lunch, we’ll see darling Mrs. Heigle over the road. She loves your visits, too.”
The sun was a shimmering orange ball melting into the horizon by the time Natalie headed out of town.
After kissing her mother goodbye, she’d gone to spend an hour beneath the graceful umbrella of that poinciana tree. Following tradition, she replaced last month’s soft toy—a small pink bear—with a new toy, a purple poodle puppy. Then she’d sat on the grass, gazed at the headstone, saying nothing.
Only wishing.
Now, as she cruised by the faded sign that read, Visit Constance Plains Again Soon, a car passed her coming in and Natalie did an unconscious double take.
Nothing unusual about the vehicle—your everyday, run-of-the-mill four-wheel drive. It was the glimpse of the driver that niggled. She wasn’t sure why until ten miles out when the fleeting snapshot she’d caught gelled with the information knocking at her brain.
But then she laughed, shook her head.
That driver had ginger hair, yes. Didn’t mean he was the reporter from the other night. Even if he, or anyone else for that matter, had wanted information on her, Internet and phones would be far quicker than an eight-hour round-trip like the one she’d complete today.
Which reminded her.
Natalie selected a CD then, settling into her seat, stifled a yawn.
She wouldn’t reach Sydney until around nine. After a couple of restless nights, she couldn’t wait for her head to hit the pillow. Even thoughts of Alexander and their uncertain future wouldn’t ward off the Sandman tonight.
Her limbs were aching weights when, hours later, she steered into her apartment block’s driveway. With a heavy arm, she swiped her keycard and the automatic gates leading to the underground car park rumbled up. Then something in the shadows caught her eye. A car, and this time the model was highly distinctive.
Sleek black Audi R8s weren’t so run-of-the-mill.
Suddenly alert, she steered her car beneath the gate and swerved into her park. By the time she collected her bag off the passenger seat, Alexander stood by her door, reaching for the handle. A moment later, his warm hand gripped her elbow to help her out.
His face was dark and voice curiously gravelled. “It’s after nine. I was beginning to worry.”
A part of her was touched by his concern, but a bigger, thoroughly ragged part was slightly peeved.
“No need,” she said, winding casually out of his hold. She’d been doing that drive for six years and she’d continue to do it for another sixty.
Then, through her exhaustion and jolt of his unexpected appearance, the obvious question dawned.
She studied him more closely. “Alex, why are you here?”
Was something wrong with Bridget…with the baby?
“It’s been a crazy day,” he said, walking with her to the lift, his eyes cast down. “I’ve needed to make some decisions. Decisions that affect you.”
“Is Bridget all right?”
“I spoke with her briefly. Mateo said he’d fit her in anytime, but it was hard pinning her down to a day.” He stabbed the lift’s call button. “She said she wishes none of this had happened. She apologised for dragging me into it.”
Her heart dropped more. Bridget Davidson sounded sweet. Someone who deserved a good man as well as a nice life for herself and her baby. Natalie almost felt she knew her.
She found her voice over the stone stuck in her throat. “I’m sure you told her that you feel as responsible as she does.”
He slid over a look. “As I’ve said before, if I’m responsible, I’ll be there for them both, no question.”
After they stepped into the lift, Alex closed his eyes and rubbed his brow while Natalie pressed her floor’s button and a warning tingling stole up over the back of her scalp.
He looked so preoccupied. So drawn. Was she jumping to conclusions or was the decision he’d made today concerning her linked to his last statement? Was he here to tell her that he’d had a change of heart? Perhaps after his discussion with Bridget today he’d decided that, if the baby was his, he’d be there for them in more than a single-parent, part-time kind of way.
It shouldn’t be a surprise. Alex staying with the mother of his child was the morally right thing to do. She couldn’t forget how Chris Nagars had run out on his responsibilities. He’d turned his back, not only on her but also on the baby she’d carried.
She turned her face toward the wall.
Then again, she was no angel. She’d had her own reasons for kidding herself and accepting Alex’s ring. Fact was, Alex should focus on Bridget and that baby now, and they both knew it.
“I spoke with your boss today.”
She straightened and concentrated on his words. Alex had spoken to Phil? “About the Quinton house?”
“In part. Given you were unavailable, I asked him to arrange for the contract to accommodate rent before handover.”
“You plan to move in straightaway?”
“Yes, I do. With you.”
Her breath caught. One minute he was announcing he would be there for Bridget. Now he’d decided to move in with the other woman?
She raked a trembling hand through her hair. “I don’t suppose you considered asking me first?”
“Not after seeing the six o’clock news.”
She studied the hard edge to his mouth, the penny dropped and a withering feeling fell through her.
“I don’t believe it,” she murmured, cringing at the thought of having their private lives highlighted on prime-time TV. “Don’t they have better things to report on?”
“Apparently not. They even found some vision of my grandfather in his heyday.” His frown deepened. “A camera crew was waiting outside this building until thirty minutes before you pulled up. I thought they might’ve gone to hunt you down…” He gave a thankful grin. “Anyway, you’re safe. But you can bet they’ll be back and they won’t be gracious.”
Retrieving a key from her bag, Natalie crossed to her apartment’s front door. His protective instincts were laudable but clearly Alex hadn’t thought this through.
“Even if I move out of here, they could still corner me at work if they want to.”
“You don’t need to go to work.”
She stopped to slant her head at him. “I beg your pardon?”
“You’re on vacation. I organised it with Phil.”
Dumbfounded, she coughed out a humourless laugh. “Phil, now, is it?”
“He
