But he had started his relationship with Aimee based on lies and half-truths. He kept secrets guarded for years, and in the end, he had destroyed them. As ashamed as he is of his family, as well as his own behavior, he won’t make the same mistakes. Whatever this is with Natalya, whatever it has the chance to become, must start right. She needs to know who he is, not what she learned of him through Carlos. And she needs to know what he’s done.
He cups her face and slows their kiss. Natalya whimpers, and when he lifts his head, she blinks up at him, confused. Her lips are wet and swollen, and it takes all his willpower not to dive back in.
“What’s wrong?” Her eyes search his. Apparently she finds an answer, and her face falls. “You don’t want me.”
“No, that’s not it at all. I do want you. Can’t you feel how much I want to be with you?” The corner of his mouth lifts as he pulls her hips tighter against him.
Her eyes shift left and right, looking into each one of his. “Then why won’t you . . .” She stops as it dawns on her. Her shoulders drop, and she seems to shrink an inch or two. She lifts a shaking hand to his chest and rubs a pinch of his shirt between her fingertips. “It’s too soon for you.” She smooths her hand along his shirt.
He clutches her hand to his chest. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, and my body is raging at me for stopping, but, yes, I need more time.”
“O . . . kay,” she murmurs. Her gaze casts downward. Rejection mars the passion that had put a blush on her cheeks mere seconds ago.
He pulls her against him and cradles her head. His fingers dive into her glorious hair. “I’m not saying no, Natalya. I just need to figure things out. Just give me a little bit more time to catch up on us.”
Present Day
June 29
James slowly wakes with the previous night on his mind. He’s slept with three women in his lifetime and can only recall one. Aimee. As for Raquel, he doesn’t know too much about her, which pains him because she’s the mother of his sons. The journal entries at that time hadn’t been as detailed as those that came after Carlos learned about his original identity. What James does know is that he once loved her immensely, their mutual affection immediate and intense.
His thoughts move to that woman’s half sister. Natalya. They spent the better part of the night on the lanai, drinking beers and talking. She told him about her fears. As much as she wanted to marry Carlos and be a mother to Julian and Marcus, she’d been afraid to commit, terrified he’d see her as another burden, or an obstacle that kept him from returning home when he surfaced from the fugue. He’d divorce her for Aimee. Because that’s the woman James loves.
When Natalya asked, he told her he had seen Aimee. Just last week and not fighting for her had been one of the most difficult decisions he’s made. But it was the right one. She had moved on and was in love with and married to another man. He then shared the parts of his past he’d kept from Aimee. His family’s shame when their community and church on the mainland’s East Coast shunned them because his mother loved her biological brother and had a child. It was why his family relocated to California. They wanted to start fresh where the family’s scandal and his father’s humiliation remained hidden. He explained how it had been beaten into him and Thomas to never acknowledge Phil as a brother in public.
It was after three a.m. when Natalya fell asleep on the lounge chair. James carried her to bed, and when he turned to leave, she grasped his hand. “Please stay.”
He did, stretching out on the bed as she curled into his side. With his arm around her and her hand resting over his heart, they fell asleep. It’s where they lie now. It can’t be later than six in the morning, which leaves him wondering why he’s awake. He slowly opens his eyes in search of a clock when what feels like a foot jabs him in his side.
He grunts and his eyes shoot wide open. The room is a dusky yellow gray. His internal clock tells him it’s not even close to six, more like five thirty. Under the sheets, his hand searches for the culprit that jolted him awake and latches onto a small foot. He yanks up the sheet and peers underneath. Marc is sprawled on his back between him and Natalya, mouth wide open and face relaxed. He’s sound asleep.
The sheet flutters down and he flops his head back on the pillow. His gaze finds Natalya’s across the bed. She’s curled on her side, folded hands tucked under her face, watching him. She shyly smiles and whispers, “Good morning.”
He rolls to his side, careful not to disturb Marc. “Morning.” Worried he said too much last night or that what he said—how he treated Phil when they were kids and how he handled Aimee’s assault but still carries around her engagement ring—might have Natalya looking at him differently this morning now that she’s had time to digest their conversation, he offers her a cautious half smile. “I didn’t mean to keep you up so late.”
“That’s all right. Thank you for talking.”
“Thank you for listening.” He smiles and she smiles back. He can’t recall the last time he’s woken up with his conscience feeling clear. He realizes being up front with Natalya has a lot to do with that and he wonders if that’s how their relationship has always been, open and honest. No secrets. “Is it always like this with us?”
The tan skin between her brows folds and she blinks a few times. “No,” she whispers with a slight hesitation as though she’s chewing on her response. “Usually, when we were together, we’re frantic, as if we couldn’t get enough of each other in the time we had together. I visited a lot for weeks at a time, so it’s not like we didn’t see each other. It was more like you knew your time as Carlos would end. Despite that, it was still good between us. Like crazy good.” She plucks the edge of the pillowcase. “I love being with you in that way.”
He holds her gaze for a long moment, then grins broadly. “Thank you. But that wasn’t what I was asking.”
Her face turns crimson. “No?”
James sweeps a hand over them lying there in bed. “Is it always like this? Is there always a kid crawling into bed? I don’t remember reading about that,” he teases, lifting the sheet to show a sleeping Marc underneath. He couldn’t resist. Her reaction was adorable and her cheeks turned the prettiest shade of rose.
Natalya buries her face in the pillow and groans. “I’m so embarrassed.”
He chuckles and nudges her shoulder. “In all honesty, I suspected it used to be pretty awesome between us. Don’t forget, I kept a very detailed journal.”
“I know.” Natalya groans the word, her face still smashed in the pillow.
“I guess that’s why my wanting to talk last night took you off guard.”
“Yes.”
He can’t help goading her further. “We spent more time screwing than sleeping, didn’t we?” He also guessed she was used to spending their nights together naked under the sheets, not fully clothed, and having deep conversations that lasted for hours.
The back of her head bobs up and down. She mumbles something he can’t make out, but it sounds as if she said he wasn’t a good sleeper. That made sense, because Carlos often had nightmares and, at one point, excruciating headaches.
“Look at me.”
“Uh-uh.”