Her Little White Lie (15 page)

“Yes,” he said, his tone hard. “I know.”

“Anyway things were going well. We were kissing, I hadn’t injured him. He started to take my dress off….” She blinked hard, trying to keep her tears from falling. She’d cried enough about it. “Then he grabbed my arm and pulled me out onto the football field, and the big lights came on, and a huge group of my
friends
in the senior class threw eggs at me. Laughed at me. They took pictures of me, half-naked like that and trying to cover myself up. They made fliers later to pass out in school.”

She bit her lip hard. “You know, I would have gotten in serious trouble, for being out there unauthorized, but I think the principal thought I’d suffered enough. My parents thought so, too. Because everyone saw it. Everyone knew. I don’t know why … I don’t know why I walked into that. As one of the girls put it, did you really think he came out here to be with
you
?” A tear slid down her cheek and she brushed it away. “I had. I had really believed it. But not after that. And they never let it go. They brought it up all the time, even after graduation, and they would just … laugh like it had been the funniest, cleverest prank of all time. And I learned to laugh, too. Because my only other option was showing how much it hurt and I wouldn’t … I didn’t want to do that.”

“But then you moved here. Away from those people surely …”

“And take a chance at being rejected again? Obviously not
on a scale that grand, but still. My entire senior class made a joke out of my half-naked body.”

Dante swore harshly. “There’s nothing wrong with your body.”

“Maybe not. No … I mean I know there isn’t but … they said there was. And in high school that’s all that matters.”

“Paige, why did you sleep with me?” he asked.

She looked up at him. “You wanted me.”

She could see the horror that passed through his eyes clearly. “Is that all? Because you thought I was the only man who would want you? Those people you went to school with were stupid. As limited as your family when it comes to seeing beauty and value,” he bit out. “I cannot imagine any man not wanting you. So I sincerely hope that this wasn’t some desperate act of someone who believed they could never have anyone else.”

She shook her head. “No. No, that wasn’t it. It was … you wanted me, yes, and I could see it. But also … I wanted you. Enough to risk the rejection. I’ve never wanted anyone enough to put myself out there again. But I wanted you that much. And that seems like a good enough reason to have sex to me.”

“And now … now that you’ve seen that I’m not a supportive, caring lover. Do you regret it?”

Yes, his abandonment of her had stung, and yet, she knew it had to do with him, not with her. She wasn’t sure why she was so certain of that, but she was. “I can’t regret it. It was a lot more about me than it was you, by the way, so maybe take some comfort in that.”

A shadow passed through his eyes, intense, dark. But before she could analyze it, it was gone.

A high-pitched wail shattered the moment. “Ah,” Paige said. “There she is. It’s a little past time for that.”

She looked at him, and his total, casual nudity, and down at her blanket-covered breasts. “This is a little different now,” she mused.

“What is?”

“Uh, the idea of being naked in front of you. When I was turned on things were a bit more hazy. Also, the room was darker. And I wasn’t irritated with you.”

“You’re irritated with me now?”

She nodded. “Yes. I’ll get over it, but for now, yes.”

He nodded. “I’m going to shower now, so, you’re safe.” He turned and strode into the bathroom and she watched his butt the whole way, until he closed the door behind him.

Oh, he was so hot. And yes, that was maybe shallow. And yes, she was angry at him, which was just an even-greater testament to that hotness. But he was like four-alarm-fire hot, and she’d had sex with him. It was hard not to feel a little bit of smug triumph over that.

Sure, he hadn’t gathered her into his embrace and held her all night long, but Dante had never promised romance. And she wasn’t going to forget that.

She slipped out of bed over to the closet, grabbing a pair of sweats and a T-shirt, dressing as quickly as possible, doing a victory hop-step down the hall to Ana’s room.

A little ray of joy broke through everything else when she saw Ana in her bed, kicking her feet, her eyes bright, her expression indignant. The memories, the confusion over Dante, for a moment, it all lessened.

“Morning, baby!” She leaned over and plucked her from her crib, kissing her soft head. “Let’s go get breakfast.”

She carried Ana downstairs and set her in her bouncy chair, letting her watch as Paige got her bottle ready. Then Paige picked her up and sat in one of the kitchen chairs to feed Ana. She smiled at the contented look on her face. Her fists were balled up by her face, her eyes round.

“Okay, take a break.” Paige pried the bottle from Ana’s lips, which earned her an indignant squeal. Then she propped her up over her shoulder and patted her back until she burped.

“Now you can have the rest.” She returned her to her feeding position.

“My housekeeper isn’t in on the weekend,” Dante said when he entered the room.

“That’s fine. I can pour a bowl of cereal. What do you usually do?”

“I can pour a bowl of cereal,” he said.

“But you didn’t even know if you had chocolate, so I assume you don’t.”

“I go out,” he said.

“Ah.”

“I take it you don’t want to?”

“You can,” she said. “I want to stay home with Ana. Spend more time on the terrace. She really liked it out there and it looks like it’s going to be a beautiful day.”

“I can pour a bowl of cereal,” he said. “I can pour two. We can eat together.”

He made it sound like he was submitting to mild torture. “You don’t have to.”

“It’s the right thing,” he said.

“Why? You think it’s what you have to do because I was a virgin?”

“Yes. Don’t protest. I’ve never slept with a virgin before. Allow me to salve my conscience.”

“Bleah,” she said. “Don’t let your conscience be wounded on account of my hymen.”

“
Dio
, Paige,” he said, pulling a bowl out of the cupboard and slamming it onto the counter. “Must you say things like that?”

“I’m a blurter. I blurt. That’s how we got into this situation in the first place.”

“I remember.”

“I thought you might. It’s one of those defining moments in one’s life. When someone lies about being engaged to you and you read about it in the news.”

“That does stay with you.”

She looked down at Ana. “You think I’m capable of taking
care of Ana, right? Or being a mother, and seeing that she grows into a functional, happy human being?”

“I’ve said as much.”

“Great. So why would you think I can’t handle this?”

“I …”

“Exactly. You have no grounds. Either I’m tough enough to raise a child and fight to keep her, or I’m too wimpy to know my own mind and can’t be trusted to make decisions about who I sleep with. But I can’t be both.”

“You could never be accused of being a wimp.”

“Didn’t think so. It would be like accusing you of being too effervescent.”

He took a box of cereal out of the pantry. “You don’t think I am?”

“No offense, but no.”

“What am I then?” he asked.

Yet again, she could sense a strange, underlying seriousness to the question. And she had to wonder if sleeping with him had formed some sort of deeper connection, or if sex just made him philosophical.

“I’m not sure,” she said. “Whatever you are, you’re good underneath all that hardness on the outside.”

“You think so?” he asked, a humorless smile curving his lips.

“I know so.”

“How?”

“Here I sit in your kitchen, with Ana. And you’re helping us. No matter how many layers of self-serving motivation you wrap it in, that’s still the heart of it.”

“I was paid back in full last night, don’t you think?” His tone hardened, his eyes turning to cool chips of coal.

“Okay, now you’ve gone from misguided gentleman to a-hole. Not sure what happened there.”

He crossed to the table and set her cereal in front of her.

She looked up at him. “I want coffee.” Caffeine just might make this morning, and him, bearable.

“I don’t make coffee.”

“Oh, for the love of …” She stood up. “Hold her, please.”

He looked stricken, his face frozen. “Hold her?”

“So I can make coffee, so we don’t have to figure out a way to mainline the grounds directly into my bloodstream.”

He took a step back, his expression closing off slowly, his black eyes going flat. “Let’s go out.”

“What?”

“All of us. It will make a nice photo-op for the press, don’t you think?”

“I … suppose so.”

“Why don’t you go and get ready,” he said.

“Okay.” She stood from her chair and held Ana close as she made her way out of the kitchen and up to her room.

And that was when she realized that it had been her request for Dante to hold Ana that had triggered his idea of going out. And that in all the time since they’d come to live at his house, Dante had never once touched Ana.

After breakfast, Dante had spent the day in his office, working, avoiding Ana and Paige to the best of his ability. But it was impossible when they seemed to be everywhere. On his deck, in the living room. Paige’s clothes were in his closet.

He stood from his desk and stalked out of the office, walking down the hall. He would go out and get some air. It was late and the lights were off in the house. Everything was quiet, blessedly so.

He walked down the stairs and to the living room, headed out toward the deck. And stopped cold. Paige was there, cradling Ana, who was wrapped in a blanket, in her arms.

He could hear her, singing softly, even through the closed doors.

It all came into focus slowly, and for a moment, he couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. Paige smoothed Ana’s hair with her hand, her expression so loving, so serene.

It choked him. Pain rose up in him, tightening its hold on him. Memories of another lullaby. Of his mother.

He loosened his tie, trying to get breath, clawing at the button on his shirt collar. He felt surrounded, crowded. Like nothing was his own anymore. Like his control was being pried from his hands.

He walked away from the scene, taking the stairs two at a time. He threw his bedroom door open, feeling his hold on his emotions, on his control, slipping from his grasp.

He turned and hit the wall with his open fist. It wasn’t enough. It didn’t take away from the explosion of feeling in his chest. He drew his arm back and punched the wall, pain biting into his skin, a dent in the plaster, a smear of blood on the paint that had been perfect and white a moment ago. He looked at his hand and dropped it back to his side, his eyes on the damage he had done.

Damage that he couldn’t simply wash away. He could have someone come and fix it, of course, but that wasn’t the point.

He stood there for a long time and simply looked. At what he had done. At the evidence of what happened when he lost his control.

Then he went into the bathroom and ran cold water over his stinging knuckles, focusing on the pain, on this consequence. Letting it overtake the suffocating emotion that had risen up inside of him. Letting it bring back his clarity of mind.

He needed space. He would spend the night in his office in the city. Anything to get away from this scene of domestic bliss. The vision of the kind of love that had been torn from him so many years ago.

Just a little space. That was all he needed. And he would be back in control.

A
NA
was finally asleep, at eleven-thirty, and Paige was avoiding Dante. Which seemed pointless in some ways, as he’d been avoiding her since breakfast yesterday.

After they’d eaten, he’d disappeared into his home office. And then last night he’d disappeared completely, leaving a quick note saying he’d had a work emergency he’d had to go in for. At ten-thirty on a Saturday night. And today, she’d hardly seen him at all.

She’d spent time on the deck with Ana and a canvas, painting bold, brash colors that had nothing to do with the scene in front of her.

The ocean was too serene and beautiful. And nothing inside of her felt serene.

And now, Dante was in his home office, and she wasn’t sure if, when she saw him again, he would be rude, or if he would get all “I have deflowered you and must make amends” again. If he would want her. Or if he would leave the house rather than face sleeping with her again.

She rolled her eyes and tiptoed down the stairs, headed for the kitchen and the rest of the chocolate ice cream.

She opened the freezer and let the cool air wash over her face. She felt confused. And lonely. She didn’t know why the loneliness was hitting so hard now. When Shyla had died, it had been hard. So very hard. But Ana needed her. Ana had
needed her from that moment and every moment since then and there had been no time to dissolve.

There was still no time to dissolve. And in the absence of total dissolution, perhaps there could be an ice-cream binge and a few tears.

“I was looking for you.”

She turned and closed the freezer, forgetting the ice cream. Dante was there, looking end-of-the-day rumpled. Which for Dante meant he’d discarded his jacket and had obviously run his hands through his hair a few too many times. Otherwise, he remained well pressed, his black tie in place, his white shirt tucked into white slacks. She had the overwhelming urge to ruffle him.

To really find the man beneath the layer of rock and stone he kept around himself. To find out who he really was.

She’d seen glimpses of it. When he spoke of his mother. When he’d expressed genuine concern for her well-being after they’d slept together. And in each of those moments, there had been so much. Tenderness, love even, when his mother had been mentioned. But also a haunting sadness and fear that tore at her insides.

The fear she saw when he looked at her and Ana. Dark, endless. She wished she could watch it for a moment, to try to understand it. But he always covered it too quickly, taking control again as soon as he could.