Consequences of a Hot Havana Night

Kitty frowned. ‘You’re giving them a grandchild.’

He nodded, but there was nothing affirming in his body language. He looked taut and unconvinced.

‘Is it because I’m Englis

h, not Cuban?’

He shook his head. ‘My father will probably say that it’s fate. That at least now there was a reason for banishing them to La Yuma.’ Glancing at Kitty’s baffled expression, he gave her a small, tight smile. ‘The US.’

But it wasn’t the slang that had confused her. Clearing her throat, she said, ‘What do you mean, “banishing them”? Who banished them, and why?’

‘The who is easy, it was me.’ He stared down at her hand entwined with his. ‘The why is more complicated,’ he said finally.

His voice was offhand, but she could feel the tension pulsing through his fingers into hers. She hesitated. She didn’t know what the rules were for this kind of conversation in their kind of relationship. Or even if there were rules for their kind of relationship.

She lifted her chin, felt the pinpricks of panic starting to dissolve. So you make the rules then, she told herself.

‘No, it’s not.’ she told him. ‘You just start at the beginning and carry on till the end.’

The muscles of his arms trembled, and for half a second or so she thought he was going to pull away, but then he nodded slowly.

‘I was twenty-three. I’d just finished my studies and my father wanted me to take over the business. He’d had a lot of health problems and he’d been pretty much holding on, waiting for me to step up. Only I didn’t want to do it.’ He grimaced. ‘I was an only child, the son and heir, and I was spoilt and very much loved. I wanted to have fun and freedom, so I persuaded them to let me go to the US for a year.’

She squeezed his hand. ‘What did you do?’

‘Not much. I slept all day and partied all night.’ He hesitated. ‘That’s where I met Celia. At a party. She was older than me. Cool. Hard to pin down. Nothing like anyone I’d ever met. I chased her for weeks before she agreed to go out with me.’

His jaw tightened.

‘I thought everything would change once we were together, but it didn’t. She moved into my apartment but quite often she’d just not come home. One time I got angry and she stormed off. I lost my head. I was so scared that I’d lost her that I ran out into the street in my boxer shorts but she’d gone. And then she wouldn’t answer my calls or messages.’

He swallowed.

‘The next day I got a call from my mum and I went home. They knew immediately that something was up, so I told them I was in love with Celia and that I was going to marry her.’

Kitty nodded as though she understood, but it hurt, hearing his pain. Hurt, too, knowing that he had been so in love. ‘What happened?’

He looked down into her eyes. ‘They were appalled. They tried to talk me out of it, told me I was too young. I got angry again and stormed off.’ His face stiffened. ‘But not before I’d taken my grandmother’s engagement ring. I wanted to prove to Celia that I was serious—prove to my parents that I was an adult. When I got back to the US I found Celia and proposed to her, and she accepted. Then I rang my parents and told them I was getting married and staying in America.’

His face was like a mask.

‘Two weeks later I came home early and found her in bed with the guy who lived down the hall. At first she cried, and then she got angry and told me it was my fault for being so needy and immature. That’s when I asked her to give my grandmother’s ring back. Only she said no, so I had to call my father. He sorted it out, but they were devastated and disappointed.’

‘They were just worried about you,’ she said gently.

He shook his head. ‘I was stupid and naive. Too trusting and open. When I came back to Cuba I knew I had to change. And I did.’

She nodded and, reaching out, she touched the dark fabric of his jacket. ‘You wear your suits like armour.’ She hesitated. ‘So why did you “banish” your parents?’

He held her gaze. ‘Being back in Cuba just got harder and harder. I couldn’t be myself here.’ Looking away, he breathed out slowly. ‘You know how it is. We love life. Everyone talks and dances and flirts.’

He smiled stiffly, and she smiled back. ‘I’d noticed.’

He shifted against her. ‘Only I couldn’t be like that anymore. It worked being autocratic and formal at work, but I couldn’t be like that with my family and friends, so when my father got ill I used it as an excuse to move them to the US.’

His mouth twisted.

‘They don’t hate it, but they’re really homesick. It would kill them, knowing I’m living here with you and that they aren’t a part of it.’ He shook his head. ‘I’ve hurt them so much.’