Consequences of a Hot Havana Night

Jaw tightening, his eyes flickered over to where Kitty sat on the other side of the table, her grey gaze fixed on the horizon. If only the rain could also ease the tension between them.

After the scan they had driven to his sugar cane plantation for lunch. He’d told himself that he needed to speak to his estate manager, José Luis, in person, and he’d told Kitty that he wanted to show her a part of Cuba she hadn’t seen. But the truth was that he had simply needed an excuse to drive somewhere—to have an actual, achievable destination in one area of his life.

He took a mouthful of coffee. Since leaving the clinic he’d been trying to think it through logically—but no matter that he had a picture of his as yet unborn son or daughter tucked in his jacket pocket, he still couldn’t imagine being a father in just under seven months.

Glancing up, he felt his pulse accelerate as he caught sight of his reflection in the veranda window.

You don’t need to imagine it, he told himself, remembering that tiny heart squeezing rhythmically on the screen. Just take a good look at yourself because it’s already happened. You are a father.

A father?

Even just thinking it was like being hit by a truck. It was ridiculous. He wasn’t in a relationship, he wasn’t qualified, and he certainly wasn’t ready—

His face stiffened.

Ready? Just as he hadn’t been ready to take over the business?

He felt a familiar rush of shame and regret. When his father had sat him down and told him that it was time for him to step up he hadn’t refused outright, but his stunned silence had been enough of an answer, and with a little persuasion from his mother his father had acquiesced to his plea for ‘just one more year’.

And it had been the biggest mistake of his life.

He’d been like some puppy, let off the leash for the first time, rushing up to greet each and every stranger like a long-lost friend. No wonder Celia had found it so easy to string him along. The further she’d thrown the stick, the faster he’d had run to catch it and give it back to her. Except he hadn’t given her a stick, but a ring. And not any old ring either, but his grandmother’s engagement ring.

Blotting out the memory, his hands gripped the coffee cup more tightly. It didn’t matter if he wasn’t ready. There was no question of him not stepping up this time. How could there be?

It might be a future he hadn’t imagined, but this was his child, and he had meant what he’d said to Kitty. He wanted to make this work. He wanted to marry her. And he’d thought—hoped—that the scan, that seeing their baby together, might nudge her towards changing her mind.

His eyes flickered across to where she sat beside him, silent and still. But instead she had retreated further, and it was his fault.

He knew his silence had hurt her, and he knew he shouldn’t have taken that phone call. But he’d had no words—or none eloquent or poetic enough to express the swelling tangle of his feelings on seeing his baby’s heartbeat. Not to voice the fear or the wonder, and certainly not the fiercely protective urge he’d felt deep in his guts, not just for the baby but for Kitty too.

There had been no filter, no shield to protect himself, and he’d felt horribly exposed. So when he’d felt her gaze on his face he’d ignored it, not wanting to take on the intimacy of that shared moment and all that it implied.

But that baby growing inside her was so much more than just a baby.

It was a test.

A test that so far he’d failed.

He might have succeeded in getting Kitty to live under his roof, but how was he supposed to present that to his parents? They would be confused and disappointed. Again.

No, he needed to marry Kitty—only right now she was barely talking to him.

He gritted his teeth. Actually, he had a strong suspicion that she was ignoring him, but what was he supposed to do?

He didn’t coax women or chase after them. Not since Celia. Not since he’d made a fool of himself. It had been the first and only time in his life he had felt helpless and exposed, and he didn’t want to feel like that ever again. So, even though he hated letting fear dictate his actions, he’d set up his life so he would never have to feel that way with any other woman.

So that he could always walk away.

Only he couldn’t walk away this time.

He breathed out unsteadily. He didn’t want to walk away this time. Or at least, not alone.

Pushing back his chair, he stood up. ‘Let’s go for a walk.’ She stared at him warily and, breathing slowly, he held out his hand. ‘Please, would you come for a walk with me?’

He watched her face, seeing the conflict, the uncertainty, and then finally she nodded.

They walked slowly, side by side. Behind them jagged green mountains rose up to meet the brilliant blue sky and lush vegetation crowded the path, purple and pink flowers speckling the dark leafy foliage like stars in the night sky.