“Yes.” He offered her an indulgent smile and placed his hand over hers. “We shared something once, a very long time ago.”
Nathan’s hand felt heavy and foreign; she reclaimed hers almost immediately and gripped her coffee mug. She opened her mouth to speak, but he continued on. “You were there for me once, and I do appreciate that. But I’m afraid that I cannot allow sentimentality to hold sway in this situation. One million dollars is a lot of money, Faith, no matter what happened between us.”
It took her a moment to process his words. “You think I’m here to use our previous, uh, relationship, to persuade you to drop your motion?”
“Aren’t you?” he asked, spreading his arms open, once again the consummate lawyer. In the back of her mind, Faith pictured Shane. He’d made her a little nervous at first, but he was nothing like this. None of the Callaghans fit the standard stereotypes, come to think of it. Sean cared more about her and Matt’s safety than he did about making money. Shane wanted to be her legal counsel, pro bono. And the others – Ian, Jake, Michael, and even the big scary guy, Kane, had been very good to Matt.
“...for someone like you.” Nathan was saying. “Not that I blame you.”
Faith sat up a little straighter, her hand gripping the coffee mug so tightly her knuckles started to whiten. Certainly she hadn’t heard what she thought she had. “I beg your pardon?”
“Come now, Faith. We both know your family didn’t have a decent pot to piss in. That kind of money is enough to make anyone think twice about stretching the truth a little, eh?”
Faith stiffened. She’d never realized what a snob Nathan was before. Yes, his family had lived in a big house on the wealthier side of town, and her family hadn’t. Because her father was a minister, they lived in whatever the parish church provided them, which often didn’t amount to much. But they always had food on the table and clothes on their backs, and they thanked God for whatever other blessings they could list at any given time, some days leaner than others.
Pushing the hurtful slight aside – he didn’t even seem to realize he’d said anything offensive, she tried to remember that she was here for Matt’s sake. And somehow, she had to explain that to Nathan.
“Although,” he said, dropping his voice into what he no doubt believed was a sensual tone, “perhaps we can make some arrangement.” He reached over for her hand again as his leg found hers beneath the table. “I can set you up,” he said softly. “A nice place on the outskirts of town for you and your boy.” He lifted her fingers to his lips and pressed a kiss to them. “And we can... renew our acquaintance.”
She heard the coffee cup slam down onto the counter much harder than it should have, and reigned in her own growing revulsion before Nathan said even one more thing. “I don’t want your money, Nathan,” she said as she tugged her hand out of his grasp and wiped her knuckles on her leg. She was proud of how even and calm her voice sounded when all she really wanted to do was up-end that plate of sausage and biscuits over his receding hairline. The contents of that steaming carafe of coffee would look pretty good in his lap, too.
He blinked. “Of course you do. Why else would you be here?”
“Matthew,” she said very clearly. On cue, Matt stood slowly, then turned around and started walking toward her.
“Matt, this is Nathan Longstreet. Nathan, I want you to meet my son, Matthew O’Connell.”
Nathan looked at the young man standing beside their booth. The boy had her dark coppery hair and gray eyes, but there was little else in the way of similarity. He was big, towering over Faith, with broad shoulders. His build. His features.
Matt nodded tersely, and slid in next to his mother. The expression on his face looked like he was just barely containing himself from giving the older man a good beat down.
“Mr. Longstreet,” he said with forced politeness.
“Jesus, Faith.” Nathan, stunned, looked at Faith, then back to Matt. There was no denying the boy was his. Just by looking across the table, he knew what the results of a paternity test would be. For several moments, Faith indulged in enjoying his very obvious discomfort. She ignored the little pang of guilt at taking such a pleasure.
“What do you want?” he asked softly.
“Me? I want nothing,” Faith said quietly. “But Matt wanted to meet you.”
Nathan paled. “How old are you?” he asked, but he already knew.
“Fourteen, as of September second,” Matt replied evenly, his gray eyes analyzing Nathan’s every feature. Faith knew he was comparing it to the face he saw in the mirror each morning.