Preston's Honor(60)

I was so overwhelmed with gratitude and appreciation for her unbelievable kindness and the love she’d shown me, though she hadn’t really known me at all before tonight, that I could barely speak. “Thank you,” I managed and by the look in her eyes, it seemed like enough.

“Now come on,” she said. “I can only imagine what those boys concocted for dinner. Let’s just hope it’s somewhere in the same arena as enchiladas.”

I laughed and followed her inside. Alejandro had just arrived and when he saw me, a knowing look came into his eyes and he smiled warmly at me and then at his wife. He took her in his arms and kissed her mouth, and I smiled at the blatant show of affection as the boys muttered sounds of disapproval.

We linked hands as Alejandro said a blessing and then dug into the food. And I would always remember my first real taste of familial love as having the flavor of slightly burned cheese enchiladas. Darkness fell over the yard outside as laughter filled the room, and even though it had started as one of the worst nights of my life, I felt a warm glow in my chest and the lightness of having shared a piece of my heart and of being embraced for it. Embraced.

Not shunned. Not ignored. Not gossiped about. Not ridiculed. Not demeaned. Not passed over.

Embraced. Welcomed.

Make a fuss, mi amor, she’d said. I wasn’t sure how to do that yet, but I would work it out. I would work it out.

After saying goodbye to everyone and thanking Rosa again, she drove me to my car and I drove home. When I arrived and shut off my engine, I heard my cell phone beeping from the glove box where I’d left it and took it out to find several texts from Preston and a few missed calls. Surprised, my heart quickening with apprehension, I scrolled through the texts. They simply asked me to call him back. There was a voice message, and I listened to it, holding my breath as his deep male voice began speaking:

“Lia <sigh> I’m sorry about tonight. <rustling and pause> We need to talk . . . about the baby and about . . . us. I hope you’ll call me tonight. If not, uh, I’ll see you tomorrow at Hudson’s party and we’ll figure on a time then. <long pause> I hope you’re okay.”

I sat back, leaning my head on the headrest and closing my eyes as pain radiated through me. We need to talk . . . about the baby and about . . . us. It was glaringly clear to me what the talk about us would entail. He was dating Hudson’s nanny. The agony of seeing them together gripped me, but I breathed through it. I’d left, and I had to accept that Preston was now seeing someone else, even if he did still have a protective streak where I was concerned.

Had he really ever been seeing me anyway? Had we ever really been a couple or had I simply moved in with him, had his baby, and then . . . Mostly, that’s how it felt. Except for that night in the rain . . . except for that . . . but only for a moment that was far too brief. Because in the end, it had been nothing more than sex. I’d recognized that then and I knew it now.

I let out a shuddery-sounding sigh. I had to rebuild my life . . . once again. It would be painful to see Preston with someone else, but I could manage it. Tracie seemed like a nice girl, and she obviously cared for our son. Hudson was most important, the one I would fight for. I could put my own feelings and needs aside—I’d have to. It was my only choice.

It was too late to call now. We hadn’t started eating dinner at Rosa and Alejandro’s until eight, and it was almost ten o’clock. Hudson would be asleep and Preston would, too, since he woke before sunrise every morning to start the day. Or at least, he had.

I’d have to talk to Preston tomorrow at Hudson’s party. I was almost grateful it was too late to call. Every ounce of emotional energy was gone, and I knew I could do nothing more than fall into my bed.





CHAPTER SEVENTEEN


Preston



It was the perfect day for an outdoor party. The temperature had dropped slightly and the air felt fresh and pleasantly cool. The farm was lush with new green leaves on all the trees, flowers blooming everywhere, their scents wafting in the air, and the rows of plants in the distance a vivid, healthy green.

The land around us had once been dry and withered, but it had recovered and was now bursting with new life. I wondered distantly if people who had once been stripped bare and cracked open could recover, too, and thought that it was at least worth hoping for. Wasn’t it?

What was the alternative? The alternative was living as my parents had lived—just existing, mostly in silence with short bouts of anger that ended in more distance. God, it’d been exactly like that with Annalia the year we’d lived together, minus the short bouts of anger because Annalia would bite her tongue rather than lash out at anyone. Maybe it would have been better if she’d gotten angry. I’d needed something to snap me out of the fog I’d existed in. That night the rain had come had done it . . . but then she’d fled. I sighed heavily, scrubbing a hand over my face. I’d been too late. When it came to Annalia I was always too damn late. Just a little too slow, too many steps behind.

In the backyard, blue balloons moved gently in the spring breeze and a few tables had been set up on the lawn for those who wished to enjoy the fresh air and comfortable warmth.

I placed one of the gifts I’d gone out that morning and picked up for Hudson on the table next to the cake that was still in its white bakery box.

“What’d you get him?” I turned around to see Tracie and smiled.