“What right does she have to be disappointed in me? And why the hell do I care what she thinks?” he muttered. He’d meant to have her and let her go. It had been a good plan and that’s exactly what had happened. He ought to be pleased. Instead, his brain continued to ask him just why Jenna had been so pissed about the redhead.
Was she being territorial?
Did she really care for him?
Did it matter?
Then he glanced down at the single sheet of paper he still held in his hand. The fax from the lab in San Pedro was clear and easy to read.
His DNA matched that of Jenna’s twins.
Nick Falco was a father.
He was both proud and horrified.
“I have two sons,” he said, needing to hear the words said aloud. He shook his head at the wonder of it and felt something in his chest squeeze tightly until it was almost impossible to draw a breath.
He was a father.
He had family.
Two tiny boys who weren’t even aware of his existence were only alive because of him. Pushing up from his chair, he walked to the wide bank of glass separating him from the ocean beyond and leaned one hand on the cool surface of the window. Sons. Twins. He felt that twist of suppressed emotion again and murmured, “The question is, how do I handle it? What’s the best way to manage this situation?”
Jenna had left, assuming that he’d keep his distance. Deal with her through the comforting buffer of an attorney. He scowled at the sea and felt a small but undeniable surge of anger begin to rise within him, twisting with that sense of pride and confusion until he nearly shook with the rush of emotions he wasn’t used to experiencing.
He was a man who deliberately kept himself at a distance from most people. He liked having that comfort zone that prevented anyone from getting too close. Now, though, that was going to change. It had to change.
Jenna thought she knew him. Thought he’d be content to remain a stranger to his sons. Thought he’d go on with his life, putting her and Jacob and Cooper aside. Knowing her, she thought he’d be satisfied to be nothing more than a fat wallet to his sons.
“She’s wrong,” he muttered thickly, and his hand on the glass fisted. “I may not know anything about being a father, but those boys are mine. And I’ll be damned if I let anyone keep me from them.”
Turning around, he hit a button on the intercom and ground out, “Teresa?”
“Yes, boss?”
He folded the DNA report, tucked it into the breast pocket of his shirt and said, “Call the airport. Hire a private jet. I’m going back to California.”
By the following morning, it was almost as if Jenna had never been gone. She’d stopped on the way home from the airport the night before to pick up the boys at Maxie’s house. She hadn’t been able to bear the thought of being away from them another minute. With the twins safely in their rooms and her suitcase unpacked, Jenna was almost able to convince herself that she’d never left. That the short-lived cruise hadn’t happened. That she hadn’t slept with Nick again. That she hadn’t left him with a na**d redhead in his bedroom.
The pain of that slid down deep inside, where she carefully buried it. After all, none of that had anything to do with reality. The cruise—Nick—had been a short jaunt to the other side of the fence. Now she was back where she belonged.
She’d been awake for hours already. The twins didn’t take into consideration the fact that Mom hadn’t gotten much sleep last night. They still wanted breakfast at six o’clock in the morning. Now she was sitting on the floor in the middle of her small living room, working while she watched her boys.
“I missed you guys,” she said, looking over at her sons as they each sat in a little jumper seat. The slightest motion they made had the seat moving and shaking, which delighted them and brought on bright, toothless grins.
Jake waved one fist and bounced impatiently while Cooper stared at his mother as if half-afraid to take his eyes off her again for fear she might disappear.
“Your aunt Maxie said you were good boys,” she said, talking to them as she always did. Folding the first load of laundry for the day, Jenna paused to inhale the soft, clean scent of their pajamas before stacking them one on top of the other. “So because I missed you so much and you were so good, how about we walk to the park this afternoon?”
This was what Jenna wanted out of her life, she thought. Routine. Her kids. Her small but cozy house. A world that was filled with, if not excitement, then lots of love. And if her heart hurt a little because Nick wasn’t there and would never know what it was to be a part of his sons’ lives, well, she figured she’d get over it. Eventually. Shouldn’t take more than twenty or thirty years.
The doorbell had her looking up, frowning. Then she glanced at the twins. “You weren’t expecting anyone, were you?”
Naturally, she didn’t get an answer, so she grinned, pushed herself to her feet and stepped around them as she walked the short distance to her front door. Glancing over her shoulder, she gave the living room a quick look to make sure everything was in order.
The couch was old but comfortable, the two arm chairs were flowered, with bright throw pillows tucked into their corners. The tables were small, and the rag rug on the scarred but polished wooden floors were handmade by her grandmother. Her home was just as she liked it. Cozy. Welcoming.
She was still smiling when she opened the front door to find Nick standing there. His dark hair was ruffled by the wind, his jeans were worn and faded, and the long-sleeved white shirt he wore tucked into those jeans was open at the throat. He looked way too good for her self-control. So she shifted her gaze briefly to the black SUV parked at the curb in front of her house. That explained how he’d gotten there. Now the only thing to figure out was why he was there.
Looking back up into his face, she watched as he pulled off his dark glasses, tucked an arm into the vee of his shirt and looked into her eyes. “Morning, Jenna.”
Morning? “What?”
“Good to see you, too,” he said, giving her a nod as he stepped past her into the house.
“Hey! You can’t just—” Her gaze swept over him and landed on the black duffle bag he was carrying. “What are you doing here? Why’re you here? How did you find me?”
He stopped just inside the living room, dropped his duffel bag to the floor and shoved both hands into the back pockets of his jeans. “I came to see my sons,” he said tightly. “And trust me when I say it wasn’t hard to find you.”