Love in the Vineyard (Tavonesi #7)(78)
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t want your pity. And I needed the job. This man Enrique told you about—he’s Tyler’s father. A man Tyler has never met. A man who didn’t know Tyler existed before a few weeks ago. Yet now he could take my son away from me. All the courts need to see is that I was on welfare, that I landed my son in a homeless shelter, that I lost two jobs in less than a year. That I can’t read.”
His head spun. “Aspetta. I would never have fired you. I never would. You can hire someone to do the things you can’t.”
He should’ve seen the signs. He remembered her not reading the park pamphlet and that she’d had him read the program to her that night at the ballet. He’d been an ignorant, arrogant ass, seeing only what he wanted to see.
But right then all he could focus on was the man threatening to take Tyler from her, threatening her.
“I’m more concerned about this man you’re speaking of—Tyler’s father. What’s his name?”
If he was going to help her, he needed information.
She blew out a breath. “Eddie. Edward Markiston the third, to be precise. He said he wanted to be a part of our lives. That he wants to marry me. To give Tyler a father.” She slammed her palm down on the table, startling Adrian. “But he didn’t wait. Why he’s in such a hellfire hurry all of a sudden, out of the blue, I don’t know. He’s already sent a court summons.” She drew her brows together and bit at her bottom lip. “He saw us on the big screen at the Giants game last month. Right now I hate baseball!”
And then the tears he’d expected finally flowed. He pulled her to him and though she let him hold her, she felt stiff in his arms. But as the sobs racked through her, she slowly melted against him. Adrian smoothed a hand over her hair. “Tell me about this Eddie,” he prompted in a quiet, calm voice. A voice that didn’t reveal the anger boiling in him at the prospect of her marrying the man she’d described. A man she feared. The thought of Natasha marrying the guy floored him. Hell, he didn’t want her marrying anyone except him. The realization slammed into his brain, mocking him for ignoring what his heart had known since the first days he’d spent with her. But now was no time for addressing what he wanted, what he needed.
“I was eighteen.”
She shuddered against his chest. And the story of the night she conceived Tyler spilled out of her in a torrent. Adrian didn’t need to hear the gruesome details—he felt the effects in her body with her every word. And with every revelation, his anger became harder to control.
She’d been beaten and then left pregnant by the bastardo, a man she could never go to for help. And now the same man was after Tyler.
“Eddie told me he’s changed; he’s in some sort of program for veterans. He wants to make a fresh start. Some part of me believes him. Actually, most of me believes him. But that doesn’t mean I want him anywhere near Tyler.” She rubbed at her eyes. “There’s something else going on, something he’s keeping from me, and that more than anything has me frightened.”
Though Adrian believed people could change—could overcome trauma and lead better lives—he wouldn’t believe this guy had changed until he had convincing proof. Proof that Natasha couldn’t get her hands on.
But he could.
There were advantages to having a father with a career as an undercover agent. Adrian was about to tap those advantages for better or for worse.
And though he knew Natasha could again accuse him of thinking he knew best, of manipulating lives, it was a risk he’d have to take.
Natasha pushed away from him but didn’t look him in the eye. “I’m sorry. That’s more than you probably wanted to know. And I shouldn’t have lashed out at you about my promotion. I should’ve just told you the truth. I should’ve—”
“Shhhh.” He handed her his handkerchief. “I’m the one who should be apologizing. I should’ve consulted you. What I did was wrong in every way.”
“Not in every way,” she said as she wiped the handkerchief across her cheeks. “You meant well, I know that. But on top of all that, I was mad that you assumed that I was a thief. Hurt that you didn’t talk to me before coming to such a damning conclusion.”
“I was concerned about you, not about the money. I wasn’t thinking straight. I jumped to conclusions, and I’m sorry for that. I wanted to fix whatever was wrong, to help. It’s a stubborn trait.”
“There are far worse traits to have. I try never to lie. But one day, when you have a child, you’ll understand the ends you’ll go to, even against your better judgment. But I am sorry for not telling you the truth.”
He reached for the handkerchief. She looked first at him, then at the cloth. His fingers brushed hers as he took it and dabbed it lightly against her cheek, drying the last of her tears. His mind was already spinning into action. She still needed help, help he could provide. Help she might not accept. Help that might anger her but which he would provide anyway.
“May I see these papers you received from the court?”
She nodded toward the kitchen counter. He was reluctant to let her go, but he had to read the summons, had to know what she faced. And he had to get the information the document contained.
His anger flared as he flipped through the pages. If family law in the States was anything like in Italy, unless this guy Eddie was a real reprobate, he’d be able to secure visitation rights. But he didn’t have to marry Natasha to do that.