The Italian's Doorstep Surprise
“Obviously that’s not true,” he said quietly.
She looked sad. “It’s not enough.”
What she meant was that Nico wasn’t enough. And how could he argue with that? He had secrets he would never share. Not with anyone. Especially not her.
Because he suddenly realized he cared about her opinion. The thought shocked him. For the first time since Christmas, he wanted to make an effort. He wanted someone to think better of him.
Looking up, she threw him a tentative smile. “I’m curious. Why do you believe me now about the baby? What changed your mind enough to make you suddenly propose to me?” She shook her head. “I thought you were just trying to placate Granddad. But you actually meant it.”
“Yes.”
“Without so much as a DNA test?”
How could he explain what he himself did not really understand? Had he decided to believe her out of pure instinct, based on his perception of her honor and honesty? Or was it because, after months of working sixteen-hour days on projects he could not remember and barely cared about, he grasped at one final chance to prove to his dead father, and himself, that he was a better man than Arnaldo ever was?
And what do you know about being a father? a voice said mockingly inside him. He squelched it coldly. He’d show up, for a start. That would be more than Arnaldo had ever done. “I suppose I could ask for a paternity test...”
“After the baby is born, I guess.” She seemed doubtful. “But I’m not going to risk my baby’s health on an intrusive test just to convince you.”
“After,” he agreed. He wasn’t worried about it. He already knew this baby was his, in the same way he knew when an undeveloped plot of land would pay off. In the same way he’d known since he was twelve years old that someday he’d be somebody, that he’d put his boot against the throat of the world to prove his worth.
Honora tilted her head. In an uncertain voice, she said, “You really want to be a father?”
“How much clearer can I make it?”
“You’ve never shown the slightest interest in children.”
“I’ve never had one.”
“Or commitment. Except for Lana Lee. And even with her, you were only together a few months...”
He gave a crooked half smile. “You were paying attention?”
Her cheeks burned. She set down her empty mug on the end table. “You always changed the color of roses you wished grown in the greenhouse based on the woman you were giving them to.”
She must have helped her grandfather with the gardening more than he’d realized. It was strange to realize that Honora knew him so well, when he knew so little about her. Strange and disconcerting.
Her tender pink lips twisted. “Are you still in love with Lana?”
Nico wondered what it had cost her pride to ask. With anyone else, he might have refused to answer. But he didn’t want to do that. Not when the stakes were so high. And anyway, in this case honesty cost him nothing. “No.”
“You can tell me the truth. You must have been heartbroken on Christmas Day, otherwise you wouldn’t have been drinking so much.”
“I told you, it wasn’t my drinking that was the problem. At least—” he flinched a little “—not the only problem.”
“Right. You also said you hadn’t slept in days and took pills for a horrible headache.” She tilted her head. “Sure sounds like a broken heart to me.”
“The headache was a concussion from picking a fight with a world heavyweight champ at my gym.”
Her pretty face was tranquil. “And that level of pure stupidity could only come from a broken heart.”
He shook his head with a snort. “I told you, I don’t do love. So my heart can never be broken, as you so romantically describe.” He took a deep breath, then said, “I’d just found out my father died.”
It was the first time he’d said those words to anyone.
Honora’s eyes went wide. “Oh, no! I’m so sorry.” Reaching out, she put her hand on his, seeking to
offer comfort. “I didn’t know...”