second she thought he might ask to see him again, but he didn’t. “Can I call you?” he asked.
“My number hasn’t changed.” He would know that if he had bothered to contact her in the past eighteen months.
He paused at the door, hand on the knob, and turned back to her. “I am sorry for the way things worked out between us.”
But not sorry enough to want her back in his life, she thought as he walked to his car.
She didn’t doubt it was going to be a very long night for Nathan. Maybe even a long week, depending on how long it took him to make up his mind. He was not the kind of man to act on impulse. He thought things through carefully before making a decision of any kind. He once told her that their affair was the only spontaneous thing he’d done in his adult life. It had been a thrill to know that she’d had that kind of power over someone like him. Too bad she couldn’t make him love her, too.
She watched out the front window until Nathan drove away, then she stepped outside and walked across the lawn to the unit next door, rubbing her arms against the cool air seeping through her sheer top. She knocked, and almost immediately Jenny Sorenson, her neighbor and good friend, opened the door, looking worried.
“Hey, is everything okay?” she asked, ushering Ana inside. Max was sitting on the living room floor with Portia, Jenny’s fifteen-month-old daughter. Ana hadn’t been sure how Nathan would react, so she’d felt it was wisest to keep Max out of the picture.
“Everything is fine. I’m sorry to dump Max on you like that without an explanation, but I didn’t have a lot of time.”
When Max heard her voice he squealed and crawled in her direction, but then he got distracted by the toy Portia was banging against the coffee table and changed course. Max was an independent kid, and unless he was wet, hungry or hurt, toys took precedence over Mom any day.
“You looked really upset when you dropped him off. I was worried.”
“I ran into Max’s dad today. He may or may not be back in the picture. He wanted to talk, and I felt it would be best if Max wasn’t there.” She hadn’t told Jenny the details of the situation with Nathan. In fact, up until the time Ana had Max, she and Jenny, a conservative and soft-spoken doctor’s wife, had barely said hello. Then one afternoon when Max was a few weeks old and suffering a pretty nasty case of colic, Jenny heard his screams through the open window and stopped by to offer her help. Like Ana, she’d also made the choice to raise her baby without the help of a nanny or an au pair, and she’d been a godsend. She taught Ana a few tricks she’d learned with her own colicky baby, and they had been friends ever since. Still, Ana was selective about what she did and didn’t tell her.
“How do you feel about that?” Jenny asked her.
“Conflicted. I’d love for Max to know his father, but at the same time I feel as though I’m setting him up to be let down. If he’s even half as bad as my father—”
“It’s only fair to give him a chance,” Jenny said firmly, glancing at her daughter, who was in a tug-of-war with Max over a stuffed bear. “A baby needs its father.”
Even though Portia barely ever saw hers. Brice Sorenson, a busy surgeon, was often out of the house before the baby woke, and home after she was tucked in bed. If they were lucky, they might see him for a few hours Sunday between hospital rounds and golf. Though Jenny hadn’t come right out and said it, it sounded as though even when he was home, he wasn’t really there. He was older than Jenny, and had grown children from a first marriage. He didn’t change diapers or clean up messes, and he’d never once taken a midnight feeding. The scenario struck a familiar and troubling chord for Ana. One she refused to accept for Max.
“The ball is in his court now,” Ana told Jenny. And if Nathan wanted any less than what was best for Max, she would cut him out of his son’s life without batting an eyelash.
Three
Though Nathan hated that Ana’s words made so much sense, after several days of considering his son’s well-being, he knew she was right. Either he was in or he was out of Max’s life. There was no doing it halfway. But he had to consider how claiming his son could impact his career. He was sure that if the truth came out he could kiss his chances at the CEO spot goodbye. The board would see it as a direct and flagrant conflict of interest. Since they learned that the explosion at the refinery was the result of someone tampering with the equipment, people had been quick to point the finger at Birch Energy—even though as of yet they hadn’t been able to prove any sort of connection.
But even more important, how would his being in the kid’s life influence Max? Nathan had no idea what it took to be a father—at least, not a good one. The only thing he knew for sure was that he didn’t want to be anything like his own father: accepting nothing but perfection, verbally, and sometimes physically, lashing out if anyone dared fall short of his unrealistic expectations.
Nathan was too much like his old man, too filled with suppressed anger to ignore the possibility that he would be a terrible father. Yet he couldn’t just forget that there was a child out there whom he’d brought into this world, who shared half of his genetic code. He had to at least try. And if he couldn’t be there for Max, even though Ana said they didn’t need his money, Nathan would see that Max was taken care of financially for the rest of his life.
He called Ana Wednesday afternoon and asked if he could come by to talk.
“How about eight-thirty tonight? After Max goes to bed.”
“You still won’t let me see him?”
“Not until I’ve heard what you have to say.”
Fair enough. “I’ll see you at eight-thirty then.”
“See you then.”
He hung up just as Emilio, the company CFO, knocked on his office door.
Nathan gestured him in, thinking that this visit had something to do with the new marketing budget his department had submitted Monday morning. If Western Oil was going to rebuild their reputation with the public, it was going to cost them.
Instead, Emilio said, “Sorry to interrupt,” and handed him a small white envelope. “I just wanted to drop this off.”
“What is it?”
“An invitation.”
“For …?”
“My wedding.”
Nathan laughed, thinking that either he’d misheard or it had to be a joke. “Your what?”
A grin kicked up the corner of Emilio’s mouth. “You heard me.”
Nathan knew no one more vehemently against marriage than Emilio. What the hell had happened?
Curiosity getting the best of him, he tore the envelope open and pulled out the invitation, his mouth dropping open when he recognized the bride’s name. “This wouldn’t be the Isabelle Winthrop who was indicted for financial fraud?”
“Apparently you haven’t been watching the news. All charges against her were dropped last Friday.”
That explained it. He’d worked late Friday then went
