A Husband She Couldn't Forget Read online

  “Me, too.”

  And for now, she was going to enjoy each moment, treasure the time with her mom and her family. And revel in this reunion with him, no matter that it would probably be temporary.

  The baby—if there was a baby—would change everything. But even a baby didn’t necessarily mean they would be together forever.

  They could end up co-parents on opposite coasts.

  That didn’t sound so great. Really, would long-distance co-parenting even be fair to the baby? Let alone to Connor, who hadn’t exactly volunteered to be a surprise dad...

  Aly closed her eyes. It was all too much to cope with.

  And she didn’t have to cope with it.

  Not right now, anyway. She had weeks left. Surely in that time, it would all get clearer to her. She would figure out what she absolutely couldn’t do without. And what she was willing to give up to get what she needed most.

  Oh, and at some point, she ought to take one of those home pregnancy tests she’d bought. That would be a good idea, too...

  Chapter Ten

  Two weeks later, Aly had yet to take one of those home tests. She kept telling herself she would do it tomorrow. And when tomorrow came, she put it off another day.

  “Is your dad staying home with your mom today?” Connor asked that Sunday morning during breakfast.

  “Yeah.” Cat was doing really well at thirty-eight weeks along.

  “Do you need to go over there?”

  Aly set down her fork. “Connor. What are you getting at?”

  He poured more syrup onto his pancakes. “I want the whole day with you.”

  She sipped from her glass of orange juice and picked up her fork again. “Yes. I would love to spend the day with you. What’s the plan?”

  * * *

  It was Connor’s sexiest fantasy-come-true. She wore a red bikini and they went to Valentine Beach.

  “Just like old times,” she teased as they spread their towels back away from the water, up in the dunes. The fog had cleared, but the day was cool.

  “Just like old times...only better,” he clarified, as he rubbed sunscreen on her soft shoulders and down her back, remembering his younger self.

  That day all those years ago, he’d had to exercise superhuman concentration to keep his hands from shaking. She’d smelled like fresh coconut and oranges from the sunscreen, and her skin was pale and smooth and perfect under his palms.

  Just like now.

  He chuckled to himself and didn’t realize he’d done it out loud until the grown-up Aly asked, “What’s so funny?”

  “Just thinking you couldn’t pay me enough to be fifteen again.” He dropped a kiss on her shoulder.

  “Yeah. Thirteen and fourteen were the worst for me.”

  “Why?”

  She glanced at him over her shoulder. “Well, there was this guy I was crazy about who wouldn’t give me the time of day.”

  “That guy was an idiot.”

  “Yes, he was—pass me the sunscreen. I’ll do you.”

  “Best offer I’ve had since the last time you did me.”

  “Smart-ass,” she muttered, and crawled around behind him to rub the sunscreen onto his back.

  When she stuck the tube back in her tote, she shivered. It really wasn’t bikini weather. But they stretched out side by side anyway. He inched closer and kissed her. They ended up making out like a couple of sex-starved kids—until he tried to untie her bikini top.

  She shrieked and jumped up, laughing. “I’m freezing. And you’re trying to take off my top!”

  “Just hoping to warm you up.”

  “Dream on, mister.”

  She did have a point. It really was too cold to be running around without a shirt.

  He suggested, “We should go back to the house and put on some actual clothes.”

  “No way.” She dropped to her towel and put on her red Keds and her beach tunic. The filmy cover-up fell to midthigh and couldn’t possibly keep her any warmer than that perfect red bikini. “Pull up your big-boy pants.” Her blue eyes sparkled and her smile promised mischief. “The vast Pacific is calling your name.”

  He didn’t argue, just put on his sneakers and chased her down to the beach.

  They played in the waves along the shore for a while, splashing each other, bobbing and weaving, trying not to get drenched. In no time at all, both of them were soaked through. The water was way too cold to stay in long. She was shivering and so was he. Neither of them cared. They goofed around until their feet started to get numb in their waterlogged shoes and her lips looked a little blue.

  Then he scooped her up in a fireman’s carry and hauled her back to their towels. They rolled up the towels. He took them, she grabbed her tote and they headed for the house.

  His toes might just be frozen and he had sand in his pants. Didn’t matter. He was having the best time. It was all so simple and easy and right with her. He never wanted to let her go.

  And he didn’t have to let her go. All he had to do was move to New York City, as he’d promised to do years ago.

  Move to New York City and Aly would be his—maybe. Hell, probably. They hadn’t discussed it in so many words yet. But he definitely got the vibe that she would be open to making things permanent if he relocated to the East Coast.

  All he had to do was leave his home, his family and the family business he loved, and start over, find a whole new career. At thirty-one. In Manhattan, no less.

  When he looked at it that way, leaving home was a crap choice.

  But losing Aly again was going to be bad—worse than being a nobody starting from nothing in New York City.

  He’d spent seven years without her. Seven years with an emptiness at the core of everything he did. He wasn’t looking forward to going back to that again.

  * * *

  Aly spotted Janine Garber sitting on the top step as they approached the house.

  “I’ve been all up and down the block,” Janine said when they joined her on the porch. The lines between her eyebrows were etched deeper than usual. “No one’s seen Maurice. He’s disappeared.”

  As Connor ushered Janine inside, Aly reluctantly reported, “He wasn’t around this morning.”

  “But he likes it here at your house,” the older woman insisted. “Maybe he’s here and you just didn’t notice him. You know how he is. He could be curled up in one of the closets somewhere having a nap.”

  Connor wrapped an arm around her narrow shoulders and suggested, “It’s a definite possibility. Let’s find him.”

  Aly took the upstairs. She looked under beds and in every closet. Meanwhile, Connor and Janine checked the lower floor and the garage.

  They met up in the living area with no Maurice to show for the search.

  “He’ll turn up,” Connor assured Janine. “And I’ll bring him right to you when he does.”

  Aly offered, “How about coffee or a soda?”

  “No, really.” Janine shook her head. “I’d better go...”

  Aly’s tunic was still wet. She gave Janine a hug, anyway. The older woman held on tight. “Thanks,” she said with a brave little smile.

  “She looks so sad,” Connor said, after Janine went out the door.

  “Yeah. We should check on her whether Maurice shows up or not.”

  “She loves that damn cat, but she won’t keep him inside.”

  “Don’t blame her. You know that cat. Nobody keeps Maurice inside.”

  That evening, when she and Connor got back from dinner at the Bravo house, Aly went next door to see how Connor’s neighbor was holding up.

  Janine answered the door looking glum and distracted. “That cat drives me crazy. I miss him so much.”

  “Did you eat?” asked Aly.

  “I’m not hungry, dear.”

  Aly took h
er by the shoulders, turned her around and marched her to the kitchen. “I’m not leaving until you at least have a sandwich.”

  “I just don’t feel like making a sandwich right now.”

  “I’ll do it for you. Sit.”

  Janine didn’t argue any further. She sat at the counter and Aly puttered around until she found what she needed.

  “Here you go.” She set a ham on rye, a glass of milk and a single-serving bag of chips in front of Connor’s neighbor, who had begun to feel like her neighbor, too.

  Janine ate. As she polished off everything on her plate, she explained that her husband, Theo, had died two years before. “Theo loved that impossible cat,” she grumbled. She said she had a daughter. “Mira is about your age, dear. She’s married, lives in San Diego. I have two grandkids. I don’t see them enough...”

  Aly felt like crying suddenly—for Janine, who’d lost her husband and maybe her cat, and whose daughter lived miles and miles away. And for herself a little, too. It seemed so wrong to her now, not to have family nearby.

  No doubt about it. She was growing sentimental as she approached the ripe old age of thirty.

  Or maybe it was hormones talking, some kind of homing instinct stirred up by pregnancy.

  Really, she needed to take the damn test and find out for sure.

  After Janine finished her sandwich, she put her plate in the sink and got a bag of Pepperidge Farm chocolate chip cookies from the back of a cabinet. “These are my weakness,” she confessed with a devilish smile.

  The two of them were sitting at the counter stuffing their faces with cookies when Aly’s phone bleated from her pocket with a text from Connor. What’s going on over there?

  She showed Janine what he’d written.

  Janine chuckled. “Tell him he’d better get over here or there won’t be any cookies left.”

  Aly texted him back and Connor joined them. The three of them finished off the bag of cookies.

  They agreed that they needed to make up a flyer with a picture of Maurice to pass around the neighborhood. Janine had one of him sprawled on the kitchen floor. In it, Maurice stared straight at the camera, green eyes wide as saucers. Aly offered to put the flyer together and print plenty of copies.

  Janine had other plans. “I have a computer and a printer. I’ll do it myself first thing in the morning.”

  And she did—very early, apparently. Aly found one slipped under the front door Monday morning before she left for her mom’s house.

  “Wherever you are, come home,” she whispered to the wide-eyed picture of Maurice. “We miss you.”

  Home.

  She really had started to think of Connor’s house on Sandpiper Lane as her home.

  * * *

  At her parents’ house, Marco had already left and her dad was just waiting for Aly before heading to work. He dropped a quick kiss on her cheek and off he went.

  As usual, Ernesto had cooked breakfast, but skipped the cleanup. Aly cleared the table and loaded the dishwasher and then joined her mom in the bedroom.

  Cat sat up in bed reading a fat paperback with a love-struck couple on the cover. She glanced up with a wicked grin. “Don’t say a word. I’m at the best part.”

  Tucker got up from his bed in the corner and pranced over to Aly, his ratty old dog rope between his teeth. He dropped to his haunches and growled playfully up at her, shaking it.

  “Buddy, you’re on.” She sat cross-legged on the rug as Tuck shook the rope again and growled some more. “Bring it.” He took a step closer. She shot out a hand and grabbed one end of the rope. “Hah! Got it. Do your worst.”

  She was laughing at Tuck’s antics as he growled and struggled, wrestling her for his prize, when Cat suddenly gasped. “Baby girl,” she said, “I think there’s a problem.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Baby girl.

  Her mom hadn’t called her that in decades.

  Aly let go of her end of the rope. Growling triumphantly, Tuck ran off with it as Aly jumped to her feet and demanded in a breathless whisper, “What problem?”

  Her mom had set her book aside. She had her hand on her giant belly. Her face was pale, with two vivid spots of red high on her cheekbones. “I’m cramping, my panties are wet. And it hurts...”

  For a bizarre two or three seconds, they just stared at each other. Then a strange sort of calm descended. It seemed to settle over both of them. Aly picked up the bedside landline and auto-dialed Cat’s obstetrician, Dr. Sharma, as her mom threw the covers back. The book tumbled to the floor.

  All modesty out the window, Cat yanked up her giant T-shirt and opened her thighs. Her fancy lace-trimmed maternity panties were soaking wet. The white sheet beneath her was also wet—and tinged with pink. “I’m guessing my water broke. There’s blood, too.” She tossed her head back on the pillow and let out a long, guttural moan. “And it hurts.”

  The doctor’s receptionist finally answered the phone, but Aly stared at the pink sheet and knew it was no time to fool around. “I’ll call you right back.” She hung up and dialed 9-1-1.

  Once the ambulance was on its way, Aly called the doctor again. She shared Cat’s symptoms, adding, “And I called for an ambulance. They’ll be here any minute.”

  “Good.” Dr. Sharma said he would meet them at Memorial.

  Aly held her mom’s hand as they waited. Cat groaned in pain and practiced her breathing, while Aly kept promising that everything was going to be all right.

  Because that’s what you say when your mom’s water breaks and there’s blood on the sheets.

  The ambulance got there ten minutes later. Ten minutes after that, with her mother safely loaded in back and a paramedic to take care of her during the ride, the ambulance took off for Memorial.

  Aly made sure Tuck had food and water, then grabbed the suitcase her mom had all packed and ready. She locked up the house and climbed in her rented Mazda. Before she started the engine, she called her dad.

  She barely got out the word “hospital” before her dad said, “I’ll be there as fast as I can.” And hung up.

  Aly called Dante’s cell. When it went to voice mail, she didn’t wait for the beep, but disconnected and tried Marco instead. He picked up on the second ring. Aly explained the situation. Marco promised to call Pascal and Tony and to try Dante again.

  When she got to the hospital, her dad was already there, wearing the crisp navy-blue pants and shirt he always wore to work. He was sitting in the waiting area with his head in his hands.

  “Daddy?” She dropped down beside him and put a palm on his broad back. “What’s wrong? What’s happened?”

  He sat up straight and smoothed his silver-streaked black hair with both hands. “I don’t know anything yet. I just hope she’s okay.”

  “Is Dr. Sharma here?”

  “I don’t know. I asked at the desk. They told me to have a seat, that someone would come.” He caught Aly’s hand. “How did she seem back at the house?” He looked absolutely terrified.

  Had he been this way at every birth? She couldn’t remember; she’d been only a kid then—ten, when Marco was born. Her aunt Siobhan, who lived in San Jose, had come up to help during the last week of Cat’s pregnancy. She’d stayed on for a couple more weeks after the birth. Aunt Siobhan had handled everything. All Aly remembered of Marco’s birth was being allowed in the hospital room after the delivery to see the tiny, wrinkly baby and a smiling, exhausted Cat.

  “Alyssa.” He was glaring at her now. “I asked how your mother seemed before she left the house?”

  In the interest of her dad not having a heart attack, Aly soft-pedaled her reply. “She was having cramps and, um, some pain. Her water broke, she said. It was pretty sudden. She was fine and then she was having contractions.”

  “So she seemed okay?” Her dad went from glaring at her to staring with pleading eye
s full of hope and abject fear—her dad, who was never afraid of anything.

  “Yes,” Aly lied. “She’s okay. And the ambulance came fast. Dad, it’s all going to be fine.” It had better be. Aly sent a quick prayer heavenward for the protection of her mom and her baby brother.

  Marco appeared. He sat on their dad’s other side and Aly explained what she knew all over again. Marco said he’d reached Pascal and Tony and Dante, too. They would all be here as soon as they could.

  A few minutes later, Dr. Sharma came striding through the doors that led into the obstetrics unit. He was wearing scrubs, and a blue mask hung around his neck.

  All three of them—her dad, Marco and Aly—jumped to their feet.

  “Sit down, sit down,” said Dr. Sharma in that gentle, cultured voice of his. “I have excellent news.”

  “You do? What? Tell us now.” Aly’s dad fired off orders as he dropped back into his chair.

  “Yes, of course,” said Dr. Sharma. “You see, during the ambulance ride, the baby was showing signs of increasing distress. Your wife was in severe pain.”

  “Oh, my God,” muttered her father.

  Dr. Sharma nodded sympathetically and went on, “I saw her immediately upon her arrival. My examination revealed a high likelihood that the placental abruption had become severe. Mrs. Santangelo gave her permission for an emergency C-section.”

  Aly’s dad said a very bad word.

  “I completely understand,” said Dr. Sharma. “I’m sorry there wasn’t time to speak with you first. The good news is that the procedure went smoothly, your wife is doing well and you have a healthy baby boy.”

  “What?” barked Ernesto.

  “Your baby is born and doing well,” Dr. Sharma said patiently. “Because speed was of the essence, the surgery was performed under general anesthesia. Mrs. Santangelo is still unconscious, but she is perfectly fine, I promise you. She should be coming around very soon now.”

  All three of them—Aly, her dad and Marco—just stared.

  Then Ernesto shot to his feet again. “It’s over?” he demanded. “Already?”