CHAPTER Eleven
Over the next week and a half Victoria avoided Connor.
The tightening tension gave her a sense of sitting on the lip of a volcano about to erupt.
Outwardly Connor was civil, and he still read to Dylan every night while she fed the baby his final bottle of the day. But they’d barely spoken since that fateful Sunday morning.
When she met his eyes she could glimpse the gathering turbulence in the darkening storm of gray. There was a confrontation coming and, like the coward she was, she avoided him by using the best excuse she had—work.
As soon as Dylan had eaten breakfast she kissed him goodbye and left him in Anne’s capable hands. She came home after a work day and desperately avoided Connor in the evenings—with the exception of Dylan’s bedtime. Afterward she retreated to her room—and her laptop.
The crumbling of their truce did little to ease the tension that was building day by day between them.
It all came to a head when Victoria arrived home late one night to find Dylan already asleep—and a glowering Connor waiting for her in the living room, every light blazing.
She came to a halt and set her laptop bag down on one of the leather couches.
Standing there, his legs apart, in a beautifully tailored black business suit and pale-blue shirt sans tie, with his shoes still an impossibly glossy black at the end of a day, he looked formidable. Unreachable. It was impossible to tell whether he felt anything for her at all. Except the anger and annoyance that the harsh overhead lighting revealed so clearly.
“Dylan needs a mother.”
Startled by his words, she continued to stare at him.
What did he mean? Anxiety—never far away where Dylan was concerned—pooled in her stomach. Dylan already had a mother.
But she’d never told him.…
Had she been too reticent? Was the omission intended to protect Suzy’s memory going to cost her dearly?
“Nothing to say?”
The glare he directed at her held anger and frustration and something that was dark and dangerous.
“I had to stay later than—”
“I have a business. I work long hours—but I still have time for Dylan. This is the third time you’re late this week—and it’s only Wednesday. And last week you were late almost every night, too.”
He’d been counting. But instead of making her feel like she was winning this battle of wills between them, a wretched anguish speared her. He didn’t think her fit to be a mother.
Her shoulders sagged. Served her right, she supposed. Tonight had been a genuine emergency—the rest of the time she’d been avoiding Connor. She’d been stopping for dinner on the way home so that she didn’t have to eat with him and endure the awful estrangement between them, arriving home in time for Dylan’s bath and bedtime story. She’d desperately missed out on the extra time with Dylan. But what choice did she have?
Right now she couldn’t bear to be anywhere near Connor.
It simply hurt too much.
She was trapped between her need to be with Dylan and her desperation to avoid Connor—and protect her breaking heart.
The memory of their night together … of what they might have had … was eating her alive.
Connor was speaking again, the words sharp and cold as hailstones. She pulled herself out of her misery.
“Victoria, if you can’t be available for Dylan, if you can’t be relied on to be here for the child, then its better you move out.”
“What?”
Shock caused the blood to drain from her face. She collapsed onto the nearest of the two long, black leather couches, suddenly chilled and weak. “What are you talking about?”
“I think you know.”
Divorce. He was talking about divorce. “But you promised.”
“What?”
“That you wouldn’t end it between us.” Victoria placed her fingers against her temples, hunching over where she sat as she struggled to gather her thoughts.
She heard his footfalls across the carpet as he moved closer. Those perfectly shiny shoes came into her line of vision. “Things have changed, Victoria.”
Dana and Paul had gotten married.
Connor had realized that this fake marriage was never going to be enough for him.
And now he wanted out.
She spoke at his shoes. “You can’t do thi—”
“You’ve hardly been home for Dylan over the past ten days.” The words were as harsh as a whip. “You spent last Sunday and most of this past weekend at work.”
To avoid him. Because she’d been unable to bear the tension, the antagonism between them. She looked up, her gaze unconsciously pleading with him. “I’ll make sure—”
He shook his head. “I’m sorry, Victoria. I have to end this. For Dylan’s sake.”
His words cut deep into her heart.
If she’d thought the pain unbearable before, she now bled pure grief. This was what she’d feared all along. Marriage to Connor was supposed to have roadblocked this outcome.
The first burst of angry determination fired up. No. She wasn’t going to let Connor shove her out of Dylan’s life because he hadn’t gotten the woman he’d really wanted.
She put out of her mind those glorious hours when they’d managed to live together only too well … that magical wedding night that had changed everything between them … that had made it impossible for her to live under the same roof when she knew Connor still loved Dana.
It was unbearable that Dana’s wedding had triggered that night of ecstatic passion and incredible emotion. It was worse that he was going to end their arrangement because of a woman who didn’t deserve him.
She swallowed the thick ache that misery had lodged in her throat.
“This is all about Dana.”
Her voice came out all wrong. Instead of sounding cool and composed, it was an accusatory croak.
“Dana?” He did a wonderful job of looking totally blank.
“Yes, Dana.” So he was going to make her spell it out. “Dana, who used to work with you, who used to share your bed—”
“I know who Dana is,” he cut in impatiently, putting his hands on his hips and managing to look even more intimidating than ever. “But I fail to see what she has to do with this discussion.”
“Everything!” Couldn’t he see it? It was so obvious. “She got married last week.”
“Yes, I know Dana got married. So what?”
Somehow Victoria didn’t think he’d appreciate her telling him he was still hung up on his ex. Especially if he was desperately denying that truth to himself.
Denial was a terrible thing. Ask her, she knew all about that. She’d been telling herself for two years that she disliked Connor, despised him, that he was the most arrogant jerk she’d ever met. When the truth was so much more shameful. She wanted him, she craved him, she’d been wanting to crawl into his bed and do exactly what they had the night of Dana’s wedding.
And she’d reveled in every minute of it.
But she wasn’t telling him her sordid little secret. “You only married me to get back at Dana.”
“That’s utter rubbish.” His eyes had started to blaze with unfamiliar emotion.
She drew a shaky breath. “It’s not rubbish—”
“It’s crap.” He glared down at her. “We got married because of Dylan. You’re making it sound like I’m still hung up on Dana—I’m not.”
Maybe she was over-reacting.
According to the newspaper article, he had known Dana and Paul were getting married. No argument there. Victoria tried desperately to regroup her thoughts.
His eyes snapped with fury, and it took all Victoria’s determination to carry on with him towering above her like a dark lord full of fury and wrath. But she had to—if she wanted any chance at keeping Dylan.
“But knowing that they were getting married is different from living with the reality of Dana wedded to Paul.” If his love for Dana was anything like the unfurling love she’d discovered for him, that would have been terribly painful. “It took her out of your life permanently. I can understand—”
He edged closer, knee to knee with her now.
“You understand nothing!”
“I can understand,” Victoria continued as though he’d never interrupted so rudely, “that you wanted to get back at her. And what better way than by going through with our wedding?”
To Victoria’s dismay, he didn’t deny it.
After a long moment, she said, “Clearly you’ve since decided that our marriage isn’t what you want.” Because Connor loved Dana.
When he finally spoke again his voice was icier than she’d ever heard it. “Spare me the psychobabble. The issue here is not Dana, it’s your commitment to Dylan.”
Her commitment to Dylan was not in question; he was her child, for heaven’s sake. And it was time Connor learned that.
“You don’t want to be married to me because I’m not Dana. I can understand that. But you need to understand that I’m not giving Dylan up. He’s—”
“I’m not going to give you a choice, Victoria.”
“You have to,” she said with grim satisfaction. “I’m coguardian, joint custodian, and I’m—”
“And I am Dylan’s biological father!”
Horror struck, she leaped to her feet. They stood face-to-face, both breathing raggedly.
“You’re Dylan’s father?”
He nodded.
“You can’t be! Michael is his father.”
She wanted to howl. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Dylan couldn’t be Connor’s baby.
Not with everything the way it was between them. The way it had always been, right from that very first meeting when she’d wanted him after one look and he couldn’t even remember her darn name. They could not possibly have created together the perfect being that was Dylan.
It was too cruel to be true.
“I’m his biological father. It’s my seed that gave him life. And I will do whatever I can to protect him. He’s my son.”
Just the sound of that possessive claim knocked the bottom out of her world.
Victoria put her fingers to her throbbing temples.
She wasn’t giving up her baby. Connor was going to have a fight on his hands like he’d never seen before. The fight for his company against Dana and Paul would be nothing compared to the war she would wage.
She flung her head back, and their gazes locked. “Even if that means throwing out his mother? Yes, I donated the egg that Suzy carried in her body. That makes him part of me. What do you think Dylan will think when he learns about that when he’s older?”
Connor’s eyes had turned to slits of dark ice. “I don’t believe you.”
“Why should I lie? It wouldn’t get me anywhere.” She stood toe-to-toe with him. If she let him win this battle it would be over. She had to convince him. “I can produce the donor agreement to prove that I’m his mother. And you’re not kicking me out of my son’s life because you’ve realized you can’t get over your worthless lover.”
Under her shock and the growing anger there was hurt that he thought her so unworthy of motherhood. But she was dammed if she would let him see how much she cared.
“I’m not in love with Dana,” he said into the hush that had fallen.
She studied him, looking for signs of subterfuge. “You don’t need to pretend with me.”
He grimaced. “I’m not pretending. I got over her a while ago. And it’s been surprising to learn how many people think I’ve had a lucky escape.”
A feeling of immense relief fell over her. If he wasn’t in love with Dana, and if they were both Dylan’s parents, then there was no reason for him to push her away.
Except that he felt she hadn’t been a very good mother.…
Victoria sank back onto the couch and dropped her head in her hands. “Dylan is more important to me than anything in the world.” Half-fearful of what expression she’d find, she parted her fingers and gazed up at Connor through the gaps.
The cushion lowered as he dropped down beside her. “But what about your job? That’s always been your number-one priority.” His face was stern, but at least he was listening.
“I love my work, Connor.”
How could she explain to him that her work was her security blanket? The thing in life that made her feel worthwhile. He’d think her a total nut.
So instead, she said, “Don’t push me out of Dylan’s life. He’s all I have left of Suzy and he’s the only child I’ll ever have.”
“You should have told me sooner.”
“I considered it. But I promised Suzy that I wouldn’t tell anyone. I finally convinced myself that you should know. But I couldn’t find a way to tell you. What stopped you telling me?”
He shook his head. “At first there was just so much to cope with, I honestly never considered it. Then once you moved in I thought that you were already so stressed that I might take Dylan away from you, that if you knew he was my son you would become even more anxious. I wanted you to settle down a bit before I told you.”
“I suppose that’s why you’re kicking me out now,” she said sarcastically.
Connor’s expression changed. “Tory—”
Her mobile rang.
“Leave it,” he ordered as she dropped onto her knees and rummaged in the side pocket of her laptop bag.
Prickling at the return of his high-handed tone, she said, “I can’t. It might be important.”
“Work, you mean.”
She forced herself to ignore the icily sarcastic jibe and squinted at the face of her cell phone. The number was unfamiliar. And so was the voice that introduced itself as Juliet after she’d said hello.
Listening in absolute silence and in growing guilt to what Juliet had to say, Victoria heard the silent screaming in her head. Please not this.
She terminated the call and raised her gaze to Connor’s bleak visage.
“My father has had a heart attack.”
Connor insisted on accompanying Victoria to the hospital after waking Moni to look after Dylan. It didn’t take him long to bundle a rigid Victoria into the Maserati and head for the hospital.
“I haven’t seen my father for three years—and I haven’t spoken to him in months.”
Connor shot a look to Victoria where she sat curled in the passenger seat, her hair tousled and wild against the leather seat back, her eyes dull and staring.
“The conversation ended badly the last time he called.”
Her voice was flat and lifeless—nothing like the decisive Victoria he knew. Guilt etched deeply into her pale, drawn features. Empathy for her overwhelmed him. And he wished he could absorb the pain she must be feeling. Coming on top of the crushing shock of Suzy’s death, the news of her father’s heart attack must be a heavy blow.
He nosed the car into the hospital’s underground car park and came around to help her out before putting a hand under her elbow and escorting her into the elevator.
Frank Sutton was still undergoing an emergency angioplasty to open the blocked coronary artery, they were advised by an efficient nurse who sent them to the visitor’s waiting room.
As they came through the double doors a woman with a round face and laugh lines leaped to her feet and directed a shaky, uncertain smile at them. “Victoria?”
Victoria moved forward. “Juliet?” At the older woman’s nod she said, “Thank you for calling me.”
“I tried your home number first, but a disconnect message gave me your cell number.” There was a hint of curiosity as Juliet’s gaze flickered from Victoria to Connor.
“This is Connor North.” Victoria linked her hand through his elbow as she introduced him. Drawing a deep, audible breath, she added in a rush, “My husband.”
She hadn’t found that easy to admit, Connor realized with grim humor.
“Oh, Frank didn’t mention …” Juliet’s voice trailed away.
“My father doesn’t know yet,” Victoria said brusquely. “Do you have any idea when I’ll be able to see him?”
“The nurses said it would be a while.” After an uncomfortable pause Juliet said, “Frank’s been talking about you a lot over the past few weeks.”
Tears welled up in Juliet’s eyes, and Connor read the discomfort in Victoria’s expression. She had no idea of Juliet’s role in her father’s life, he realized suddenly.
Stepping forward, he said, “There’s a coffee dispenser in the corner. What would you each like?”
Both women turned to him with expressions of identical relief. Thank God for coffee. It fixed everything.
“I’ll come over and make my own.” He should’ve known that Victoria would be her usual, independent self—even in a time of crisis.
“I’ll come, too. Oh, good, there’s hot chocolate.” Juliet rubbed her hands up and down her arms as though her skin was already too tight. “I don’t think I could face caffeine right now.”
So he was wrong—and coffee wasn’t always the answer. Especially where human relationships were involved. Connor could only hope that the outcome this time would be happier than it had been for Michael and Suzy. For Victoria’s sake, he offered up a desperate prayer for her father to make it safely through without any further complications.
It was three hours before they were allowed to see Frank Sutton. Although the angioplasty had been a success, Victoria was shocked at how much her father had aged since she’d last seen him.
“You came, Victoria!” His eyes lit up as she halted beside his hospital cot.
“Yes, I came,” she said lamely. “Juliet called me.”
“Ah, Juliet. She’s my guardian angel.”
“How did you meet her?”
“I started going to church,” he replied. “She was one of the first to welcome me.” He must’ve seen her shock because he added, “Hard to believe, I know.”
His skin held a yellow cast marred with liver spots that she’d never noticed. He looked old and tired. A broken man. Nothing like the feckless, handsome man who’d ruined her mother’s life and made her childhood a battlefield. A sliver of pity pierced her heart.
Whatever he’d done, however enraged and disappointed she’d been with him in the past for failing her, he didn’t deserve this.
His hand inched out and closed over hers, the tightening fingers telling her without words of his fear and desperation.
“Frank, this is Victoria’s husband, Connor North,” Juliet said from the foot of the bed.
Frank lifted his head with a struggle. “You’re married?”
And she’d never told him.
It hung between them, yet another recrimination.
Victoria nodded miserably. Connor had been right. She should have invited her father to the wedding, despite their differences.
“Remember my friend Suzy?”
“Of course I remember Suzy. I was sometimes home through the years.” His mouth twisted. “Even though you and your mother probably wouldn’t believe that, not that I blame either of you,” he added as she clenched her fingers under his grip.
“Suzy died in a car accident. Her husband was killed, too.” How to explain it? “They had a baby—”
“Oh, poor mite,” exclaimed Juliet.
“His name is Dylan … Connor and I were appointed his guardians—”
“And you fell in love.” Juliet wore a dreamy expression, and Victoria didn’t have the heart to disillusion her.
She searched for something to say that wouldn’t make their marriage sound like a cold, convenient arrangement.
Juliet took Frank’s other hand. “Your father has been wanting to call you. He’s got something to ask you.” A smile lit up her cheerful round face, and Victoria found herself warming more and more to the other woman. She had a brisk lightheartedness that was contagious.
“Juliet wants us to get married.” Her father’s eyes were oddly anxious as he waited for her response.
What did he expect her to do? Refuse permission? She would never do that. Even though she believed Juliet ought to be warned what she was getting herself into.
But it wasn’t apprehension that lurked in his eyes. It was something infinitely more basic.…
Her father wanted her approval.
Deep within her something gave. He’d never sought her approval before.
“That’s wonderful,” she said. “When will the wedding be?”
The lines around his eyes eased fractionally. “I’ve still got to propose. Maybe Juliet won’t have me.”
“It’s been difficult enough to get you to this point, so I’m hardly likely to bolt now.” Despite her tart tone, Juliet’s eyes overflowed with emotion, tears not far away. “You silly, stubborn man. You had to almost die before you saw sense. Now you’d better hurry up and ask.”
“Worried I might croak?”
“Don’t joke about dying.” Juliet gave a visible shiver then leaned across the bed and brushed her lips across his furrowed brow. “There’s nothing remotely funny about it.”
“You could do so much better, my dear,” Frank whispered and Victoria’s own eyes grew dewy.
“Don’t sell yourself short, honey.” Juliet straightened. “Now hurry up, before the nurse comes back and chases us all out. I’ve got witnesses now, so you won’t be able to back out later.”
Victoria exchanged looks with Connor—his eyes were gleaming with humor.
“Juliet, my dear, I’ve wasted a lot of time because I was afraid I’d let you down. I’m certainly no Romeo, but you will bring light to my life if you marry me.”
A funny sensation shot through Victoria.
Juliet loved her father. The emotion in her glowing eyes was unmistakable as she gazed at Frank. But Victoria’s stomach hollowed out at the certainty that Juliet was heading for heartbreak.
Her father wasn’t capable of living up to anyone’s love. He’d even admitted that he hadn’t wanted to propose because he knew he would let Juliet down.
Yet before she could protest she heard Juliet reply, “Of course I’ll marry you, Frank. Tomorrow if you wish. You only ever had to ask.”