Another Woman's Son (Harlequin Romance) (17 page)

“Will you stay tonight?”

“Let me pack a bag.” Upstairs, she packed her gift for Tony as well as work clothes and a nightgown she didn’t intend to wear.

Ben had already started the car when she came back down. “I didn’t want you to be cold,” he said against her mouth.

“No more seduction.” She slid her hand through his hair. This man belonged to her. “I’m dying to see Tony.”

Reluctantly she moved away from him and they
locked up. At Ben’s house, the sitter called a hello from the kitchen. Isabel waited while he paid her. Then they found Tony in the living room, holding the fireplace poker and broom.

Ben rushed to take them from his son’s hand. “Hey, Tony, no drumming with those.”

“Dad.” It was more “come on” than greeting.

“No,” Ben said again.

“I missed seeing you together.”

Tony finally saw her. “My Iz-bell!”

She clutched him in a hug that felt desperate. She’d almost lost him and his father. Her family. She kissed his forehead with a loud smack.

“Look what I have.” She opened her bag and pulled out a SpongeBob coloring book and crayons. “Just for you, buddy.”

Clapping, Tony dropped his brand-new box of crayons and then bent to grab them. Isabel opened the box. Ben opened the coloring book. Over Tony’s head, they shared a look of love that felt right—it felt steadfast. “Jellyfishing, Tony?” he asked.

Tony seemed to be explaining how it was done. Isabel moved to an ottoman beside Ben. While he listened to Tony, she kissed the top of her lover’s head and pushed her hand down his broad chest.

“Iz-bell, color.” Tony offered her a blue crayon.

She took it and then slid to the floor at Ben’s feet. “I wonder if he’s jealous?”

“He’ll get used to us, too.”

“Are you hungry?” Isabel colored where Tony pointed, a big shell on the edge of the page.

“I’ll make something for us.” He lifted her hair off her nape. “Do you really think you can feel at home in this house?”

“We’re about to find out.” She turned his hand and kissed his palm, loving the way his eyelids immediately drooped. “We start a new life tonight. Here.”

Six months later

S
TOPPING IN FRONT
of the small blue Cape Cod, Ben parked at Amelia and George’s curb. Isabel resisted a now-familiar tension.

Even after six months of seeing her and Ben together, her parents still tried to look through them. The court case had left wounds. On top of that, they didn’t seem to understand Ben was her true love.

“It’s all right.” His hand on her thigh had grown oh-so-sweetly familiar. “Tony will win them over eventually because we’ve made him happy.”

He looked content, drooling in his sleep.

“I don’t know how you stand this, Ben.”

“I love you and Tony, and I still care about George and Amelia. They’re important to my family.”

Isabel leaned across the console, taking strength in his nearness. His life and hers were linked in ways that continued to surprise her. She thought of him first when something happened at work. She thought
of him when something odd happened on the metro. She just naturally thought of Ben first.

“Gamma?”

“You’re awake,” Isabel said.

“Gamma’s house?”

“Gamma and Gampa,” Ben said.

“And Norman?” Tony had fallen for Amelia and George’s rowdy border collie. Amelia always welcomed his unending enthusiasm for helping her walk Norman.

“I’ll come get our stuff later,” Ben said.

“Okay.” At first, they’d stayed at a hotel during visits, but a couple of months ago, Amelia had suggested they belonged at home, in Isabel’s childhood room. Amelia wanted to see more of her grandson on their weekends in Pennsylvania.

“There’s your mom.”

Isabel shaded her eyes. October’s sun made the snows of January seem like long-ago dreams. Her mom’s plants seemed to riot in a last gasp of color and intoxicating smells over the wooden rails. Amelia waved.

“She’s smiling,” Isabel said.

Ben took Tony’s hand and led him around the car. “Let’s go see what that’s about.”

“Less go, Gamma!” Tony bolted up the walkway and Amelia caught him, falling against the door.

“You’ve grown, buddy.” Everyone called him by Ben’s pet name now. “Isabel, what are you feeding this boy?”

“Iz-bell cooks good chicken.”

“And when did we master sentences?” Amelia beamed at Isabel, raising her cheek for a kiss. “He’s like a weed.”

“A busy weed.” Ben smoothed Tony’s hair. “How are you and George?”

“George is out back, fighting with the barbecue. Why that man won’t switch from charcoal to gas…” Amelia led them into the living room, a dark-floored expanse of cool shade that featured plush plaid sofas and a condensation-laden pitcher of freshly squeezed lemonade. “Thirsty?”

“You bet.” Isabel poured some into a toddler’s cup Amelia had set out for Tony. She put the lid on and handed it to him and then poured three more glasses. “I’ll wait for Dad to come in before I pour his.”

“Here I am.” Her father looked like his old self, smiling. He kissed Isabel’s temple, something he did these days only when she left.

“Hey, Dad.” Isabel shared a curious glance with Ben. Something had changed here. They usually saw her father after he’d run out of all the tasks he could set himself in the yard.

“Cookies, Tony?” her mom asked, holding up a plate.

“Cookies.” He sang the word.

“What’s up?” Isabel no longer avoided any uncomfortable conversation. “You two act as if you like us again.”

“Give us a chance,” her mom said. She mustered a smile that ended on a note of honesty. “Your father and I haven’t behaved particularly well.”

“We honestly thought you stuck together to keep Tony,” her dad said. Her mom nearly excised him from the room with a sharp look. He jumped. “I’m not telling any lies, ever again.”

“Sometimes tact is a choice, too.” Isabel’s mom reached beneath the table and came up with a bottle of champagne. “This is for you two.”

“Why?” Ben dropped his hands on Isabel’s shoulders. She sort of liked being protected when Ben was behind her.

“We know you want to get married,” her mother said.

“But we figure you’ve been holding off because of us.” Her dad flourished a hand at his living room. “What do you think of the fireplace as an altar?”

“Mom, Dad.” Isabel blushed so hard she expected to see flames. “You can’t—”

“We’ll take it,” Ben said, cutting in.

Isabel turned to him just in time to see Tony tap his dad’s leg with a cookie.

“Want one?” he asked.

“No thanks, buddy.” Ben patted his son’s cheek, but he held Isabel with an intense look of love. “I’d like a wife.”

The only sound in the room was Tony, chewing. He crunched an almond. “Mmm, Gamma,” he said,
as Isabel stared at Ben, fighting last-minute fear that her father’s guess about their relationship was right. “Want more cookie?” Tony asked.

“I have some in the kitchen.” Gamma took Tony’s hand and then came back for Isabel’s father when he didn’t move. “Help me find cookies, George.”

“I want to hear,” he said.

“Me, too,” said Ben.

“Dad, can we have a second?”

“I told you, George.”

Even after they were gone, Isabel didn’t know how to answer Ben’s proposal. “Did you ask because—”

“Yes or no,” he said. “I promise I’ll never ask you to prove anything again, but I need to know if you’ll marry me. We can talk about reasons later.”

“Would you love me if we didn’t have Tony?” she asked.

“You’re cheating.” He helped her up and traced the curve of her cheek with his fingers. After six months, he still looked at her as if he didn’t believe she was his. She kissed his palm again and wished they could go to the little room under the eaves upstairs. It was easier to commit with her body than with words.

“I love you, Isabel, because you’re as much a part of me as my arm or leg—or even Tony. We’re indispensable to each other, the three of us, bound for life. I’ll wait as long as it takes for you to believe in mar
riage again, but I need to know today if you will marry me. Sometime.”

Isabel closed her eyes and saw Will that day she’d left—his relief that she was going. She could let him ruin her life, or she could choose to trust Ben. If he was willing to wait, she was willing to cut the wait short.

“Maybe the law requires a ceremony, but you and I have been man and wife for a while.”

“What about those promises you needed before?” He nibbled the corner of her lips. “I’m dying to make them.”

“You—sharing Tony with me—coming home to me each day with milk or a newspaper, or some other small thing we need. You—turning to me at night in that brand-new bed we bought—those are promises I believe in.”

“Those aren’t promises. You’re talking about everyday life.”

She wrapped her arms around him, knowing he was hers and she was his, and all was right. “Life in a house and a family filled with love.”