Secrets Of The Heart (Book 1, The Heart Series) (11 page)

“How’s that one, Poppa?” Sydney slid onto the bench beside Nick, chewing on some gum.

“It’s a little loud, don’t you think?” Nick asked.

“I like it that way.”

Suddenly, the song died down. Bree noticed their waitress fiddling with the back panel of the jukebox, then adjusting a knob. When she finished the music came back much lower than before.

“Obviously, not everyone likes it that way, Princess. They’re trying to watch a ball game.” He held out his big hand in front of Sydney’s mouth, saying, “Here, spit it.”

She obeyed, depositing a pink wad into his palm.

“I’m surprised she gave it up,” Bree said, feeling a little left out of the easy companionship.

As he balled up the remains in a napkin, Nick answered, “It’s either that or a lecture on rotting her teeth.”

Sydney wrinkled her nose. “I hate lec-shores.”

Bree chuckled. “I do, too.”

Nick captured her gaze, holding steady. “I’ll have to remember that.”

The waitress’ arrival halted a response. With a flourish, she delivered the large pepperoni pizza, making short work of divvying up three cheese-dripping slices on their plates. She soon left with a parting shot of hollering if they needed anything.

“Oh, yum, yum.” Sydney rubbed her hands together. Before turning to Nick, she scrunched up one side of her face and winked at Bree. Sydney laid her head on Nick’s upper arm and looked up at him, all wide-eyed and innocent.

Bree covered her mouth with her hand, stifling a giggle. She had a feeling what would come next. Her darling daughter had a wonderful sense of humor.

“Poppa?’

“Yes, Princess.” Nick gave her his full attention.

“I just
love
you.”

Bree watched Nick fight for composure, biting the inside of his cheek. He leaned down close to his granddaughter, nearly touching noses, saying, “You’re still not getting a slice of my pepperoni pizza.”

At Sydney’s manufactured crestfallen look, Bree couldn’t contain her laughter for a moment longer. Nick joined her, sending delightful little thrills shooting through her veins.

Like this, carefree and easygoing, Bree could imagine almost anything for her and Nick. The love they each held for her daughter would see them through the worst.

Except your secret
, that one doubt cast long, dark shadows over her future.

“She’s finally asleep,” Bree said.

Nick watched as she padded across the living room, and then sank down onto the large ottoman only a few feet away from where he stood.

She’d changed into jeans and a white shirt. For most women the simple unisex attire would make them seem almost boyish. But for Bree, with the collar turned up, rolled up sleeves, and the tails knotted just above her cute little navel, she appeared sexier than all the high fashion models combined into one.

He glanced at her feet. One rested on its side, while the other sat atop the first with two toes split and hugging the big toe.
A sign of insecurity.

He held out a half-filled wine glass. “Here, I think we’re going to need this.”

She sent him a grateful smile, the corner of her mouth twitching. With a shaky hand, she accepted the fortification, gulping it greedily.

He took a quick swallow of his pungent ruby-red wine, praying that they’d both survive the attack of nervousness and the coming battle.

The stillness stretched to an uncomfortable waiting.

Nick took a stab at conversation. “I don’t know what to say.”

She sucked in a deep breath, and then expelled it on a wobbly laugh. “I don’t either.”

Silently, he berated himself, thinking he’d botched it once again. “Maybe, I just don’t know where to start.” He dragged a hand over his face. “Lord, how did we get so complicated?”

“We began that way, Nick.”

His heart squeezed at the catch in her voice. His preconceived judgments condemned her long before he’d ever met her, he realized now. “I’m sorry, sweetness.”

She jerked her gaze to his, allowing him to observe the change from green to the telltale blue behind the gathering moisture. Something twisted deep inside him.

Nick dropped down onto the stone hearth. The coolness of the stones penetrated his jeans, seeping into him. A trace of her haunting scent drifted to him, making him slightly dizzy.

She swallowed hard. “Things never work out the way you figure they will.”

“No, they don’t,” he said softly, sensing the shared pain at loved ones taken too soon, at shattered relationships, at opportunities lost with each other. “I thought you were just like her.”

“Her?” She frowned, clearly puzzled.

“Vinnie’s mother.”

He witnessed the shock ripple through her, causing one long shiver. An ache rushed through him, crying out to her.

Pale now, she bolted down the rest of her wine. With a shaky hand, she placed the goblet on a nearby table. Between gasps, she said, “I had no idea.”

“Nana made the connection long before I ever did. She urged me to look at you with different eyes.”

“But you couldn’t.”

“No, I
wouldn’t
.” Self-disgust crowded his middle. He pressed onward. “In the beginning, I loved Dorthea, as much as a young kid can love someone. I thought she felt the same, but she didn’t. Not really. She did what was expected of her, marry and have a family. I guess you could call it a lop-sided marriage.”

“Oh, Nick.” Pain etched her words, tugging at him. “That’s what you saw with Vinnie and me, a lop-sided marriage, too, wasn’t it?”

“Yes,” he dragged it out, grudgingly admiring her for speaking the obvious. He lifted his glass, taking another sip. The rich potent liquid flooded his taste buds, drowning out the bitterness. “At first I figured you cared little for him if you could kiss me like you did.”

“What do you mean at first?” It seemed as if she held her breath for him to answer.

“He deserted you. Oh, I know he still lived with you, but he wasn’t really there when you needed him the most.”

“No, you were,” she said gently. “I think he resented both of us for that.”

“Resented us?”

“Yes, because he saw it as a weakness in himself.”

Nick cupped his hand over his mouth, rubbing his forefinger over his lip in concentration. He dragged the past up, poking at the images until they turned around and stared him straight in the face. “He hated weakness of any kind.”

“Once, when he’d had too much to drink, he told me about his mother. A part of him loved her, ached for her even, but he despised her for being weak, for needing another man.”

Desolation consumed him. “I wished I’d known. Maybe I could have done something, helped him somehow.”

“No one could help him in the end. He was so different. He thought he was invincible.”

“The Teflon Man,” Nick recalled the nickname their fellow officers had given Vinnie. “Nothing stuck to him. Except… The bullet.”

She sucked in a shaky breath, gaining his attention. Sympathy radiated from her to him like warm tentacles, erasing the chill in his bones.

“I wish I could bring him back for you, ease your misery. You’ve lost so much, Nick.” Her voice croaked on his name, tearing him up inside.

“I’ve lost everyone I ever cared about, sweetness. My parents, Dorthea, Vinnie, Nana…” He warred with the rest he longed to tell her. His heart skipped a beat, and then he cleared his throat, pushing onward, “I thought I’d lost you and Sydney. The only way I could get you two back was to file for custody of her.”

She gave a tiny cry as she obviously sensed something in his demeanor. “But…you still think in some ways I’m like…
her.
”

“Yes.” It felt as if he’d ripped the word from his center.

She swiped at the falling droplets from the corners of her eyes. “Because I needed another man, a man other than my husband. Even if that man was you.”

“And because she was pregnant when she left me. With his baby.”

All the color drained from Bree’s face. “What are you talking about?” she whispered hoarsely.

“She did it deliberately. Call it revenge, or desperation to get away from me, but she planned it with cold calculation.”

“So, how does that make me like her?”

“I thought you got pregnant on purpose to trick Vinnie into marrying you. The same way Dorthea trapped her boyfriend into running away with her.”

Bree squeezed her hands in a white-knuckled grip in her lap. “You’ve got to believe me, Nick, I swear it was all Vinnie’s idea. He pressed for the marriage when he found out I was expecting. He had to talk me into it.” Her voice caught, and then broke.

He frowned. “I don’t know what to believe about you two anymore.”

She moaned as if in pain. “It’s my word against a dead man’s.”

“And I’m inclined to see things my son’s way.” He hated himself for it, but he refused to deny how he felt. How could he turn his back on Vinnie now? How could he betray his son by believing Bree?

“Loyalty above all else, right, Nick?” The question throbbed with emotion.

“That’s who I am.” He offered no apology, no excuses.

“You live your life by the book. We broke a cardinal rule not even an hour after we met; we kissed. That has haunted us for all these years.”

She paused for a moment, apparently trying to compose herself. “But the one thing you don’t know is Vinnie saw us.”

Naked, Nick sliced through the inky black, chilly water of the lake, leaving barely a ripple in his wake. He prayed, that with time, the numbness slowly invading his body would seep into his brain.

Chaos ricocheted in his head. One damning phrase echoed repeatedly, giving him no peace.
Vinnie knew.

Guilt, heavy and burdensome, gnawed at him.

Rack up another betrayal to my beloved son.

All these years, Nick had tried to hide his growing feelings for Bree, masking them under a huge veil of distrust and animosity. All that time Vinnie had known.

Nick mentally added this new piece of knowledge to all the other times and situations when he’d let his son down. The festering pool of churning remorse widened to allow another pail full of self-recriminations to enter, adding to his overtaxed conscience.

Tucking it away, in that deep-seated troubled spot of his soul, Nick came to face the cold, hard truth: Nothing could erase the terrible disloyalty he’d inflicted on his son.

He’d live with the disgrace for the rest of his life. All that was required of him now was to accept his punishment and try to move on to form some sort of life with Bree and Sydney.

The irony of the situation didn’t fail him. He’d gotten what he wanted at the exorbitant price of losing his son.

A rustling sound and a twig snapping on shore halted Nick’s progress. Treading water, he twisted.

He watched Bree settle on a patch of grass illuminated by the moonlight, her white shirt like a beacon in the night. A sinking sensation swamped his middle.

“What are you doing here?”

“I came to finish our conversation,” she said between chattering teeth.

At hearing her quivering response, the rampage smoldering in Nick, at himself and partly at Bree, slowly seeped out until only waves of aching pain remained, grief he’d tried to hold at bay.

It hurts so damn much
.

Kicking out, Nick propelled himself toward her. He rotated his shoulders, one smooth stroke after another. Nearing land, he stood in waist deep water.

Only a few feet separated him from his clothes, but he hesitated, wondering if he should stay in the lake for Bree’s sake or stride onto land without a stitch on.

The pine-scented breeze sent goose bumps skittering along his flesh, deciding for him.

He headed for his pile of clothing.

Bree’s gasp stopped his forward movement for a moment.

She averted her eyes, and then cleared her throat. “I remembered how you like to work off steam by swimming, so I brought you this.”

Leaning close, he snagged the large towel she offered him. He covered himself with half of it, and then began to rub himself dry. Her perfume clung to the soft fabric. A rush of yearning filled him.

He longed to hold her, but denied himself the pleasure. “Thanks.” Her discomfort puzzled him. “What’s wrong? Why can’t you look at me?”

“Contrary to what you may think, Nick, I’m not used to seeing a naked man.”

He frowned and tucked that little telling piece of information away. He sighed heavily, not caring to go into any more details of the ugly past. “What else can we say? Don’t you think we’ve hurt each other enough for one night?”

“There’s more.” It came out on a moan.

Nick stilled. Dropping the towel as if it were on fire, he grabbed for his clothes, yanking them on with barely controlled desperation.

He needed protection to ward off any flinging arrows, words or otherwise. “Go on, say your peace. Then you can go back to the cabin. I don’t know how much more I’ll be able to take.”

She sucked in a breath, and then released it in a rush. “Vinnie didn’t have to witness that kiss to know there was something between us. He knew I wanted you. He suspected you felt the same way about me.”

Waves of shock crashed down on Nick. He dragged an unsteady hand through his wet hair. “Why didn’t he tell me?”

“He didn’t tell me all of it until near the end. He said you and I were meant for each other.” She hesitated for a moment. “We were going to end the marriage, Nick.”

Darts of stunned wonder rained down on Nick, piercing his pristine image of his son, cracking the glass shell Nick had erected around Vinnie’s memory.

Bitter disappointment flooded him, leaving a vile taste in its wake. “Divorce? My son knew I wouldn’t abide by that. He knew cutting out on his responsibilities wasn’t acceptable to me.”

“I know. It goes against your hard and fast rules. Vinnie knew that, too. That’s why he never told you, never confided in you. He wasn’t up to a confrontation or a lecture.”

“Sweet Jesus, what else don’t I know?”