Her Little Secret, His Hidden Heir(10)

But even though he’d heard Vanessa’s complaints, he knew now that he hadn’t listened. He’d shrugged off her unhappiness, thinking perhaps she was turning into a bit of a bored trophy wife. He’d let himself be consumed by work and told himself it was just a phase—that she’d get over it. He even thought he remembered suggesting she find a hobby to keep her busy in hopes that it would distract her and keep her off his back.

No wonder she’d left him, he mentally scoffed now. He’d have left him after being dismissed like that.

By her own husband. The man who was suppose to love, honor and cherish her more than anyone else on the planet. Boy, he’d really messed up on that one, hadn’t he?

As always, hindsight was twenty-twenty…and made him want to kick his own ass.

Which meant that if Vanessa had met another man, Marc couldn’t really blame her for leaving him in hopes of moving into a situation that made her happier than the one she’d been in with him.

The thought of another man touching her, being with her—especially with his baby growing inside her belly—made his vision go red around the edges and his mind fill with images of tearing the aforementioned male who’d dared to touch his woman limb from limb. But he couldn’t blame her, not when so much of what had gone wrong between them was his own fault.

“Is it?” he asked again, suddenly needing to know. Though he wasn’t sure what difference it would make now.

“No,” she answered quietly. “There was no one else. Not for me, anyway.”

He raised a brow. “What does that mean? That you think I was being unfaithful?”

“I don’t know, Marc. Were you? It would certainly explain all those extra hours you were supposedly spending at work.”

“I had just taken over the company, Vanessa. A lot of things required my attention, practically around the clock.”

“And I wasn’t one of them, apparently,” she muttered, bitterness clear in her tone.

Marc rubbed a spot between his eyes where a headache was brewing. He’d heard that level of frustration and discontent in her voice before, so many times. The same as he’d heard her complain that he wasn’t spending enough time with her.

But what choice did he have? And why couldn’t she have cut him some slack? The twenty-four-hour workdays hadn’t lasted forever. Nowadays, if he was at the office past five, it was usually because he didn’t want to go home. Why bother, when there was nothing much there for him to enjoy other than a soft bed and a giant plasma television?

“This again?” he ground out. “Do we really have to get into this again?”

“No,” she replied quickly. “That’s the nice thing about being divorced—we really don’t.”

“So that’s why you didn’t tell me you were pregnant?” he demanded. “Because I wasn’t paying enough attention to you before the divorce?”

A furrow appeared in her brow. At her breast, the baby continued to suckle, though he could only hear the sounds, not see the child’s mouth actually at work.

“Don’t be obtuse,” she snapped. “I wouldn’t keep something like that from you just because I was pouting or angry with you. If you’ll recall, we didn’t exactly part on the best terms, and you were the one who refused to speak to me. That sort of thing makes it difficult to have a personal heart-to-heart.”

“You should have tried harder.”

Blue eyes flashing, she said, “I could say the same about you.”

Marc sighed, rocking back on his heels. It was nice to know that even after a year apart, they could jump right back to where they’d left off.

No growth or progress whatsoever, and to make matters worse, there was a whole new wrench thrown into the works. One with his blood running through its veins. One that he should have been told about from the very beginning.

But arguing with her about it or getting red in the face with fury over having his child kept from him for so long wasn’t going to get him anywhere. Not with Vanessa. She would simply argue right back at him and they would end up exactly where they were—in a stalemate.

Striving instead for calm and diplomacy, he said, “I guess that’s something we’re going to have to agree to disagree about.” For now. “But I deserve a few answers, don’t you think?”

He could see her mulling that over, trying to decide how much pride or privacy it would cost her to share the details of the last year of her life…and fess up to something he suspected even she knew had been wrong—namely keeping his child from him.

“Fine,” she relented after a moment, though she sounded none too pleased with the prospect.

While he weighed his options and tried to decide where to start, she shifted the baby in her arms and quickly rearranged her clothing beneath the veil of the knitted throw to make sure she was completely covered.

The child, Marc noticed, was sound asleep. Eyes closed, tiny pink mouth slack with sleep. And suddenly he knew exactly what he needed to know most of all.

“Is it a boy or a girl?” he asked, his throat clogging with emotion, making the words come out scratchy and thick.

“A boy. His name is Danny.”

Danny. Daniel.

His son.

His chest grew tight, cutting off the oxygen to his lungs, and he was glad when Vanessa rose from the sofa, then turned to toss the afghan over the back so she wouldn’t see the sudden dampness filling his eyes.