The Wedding Party Collection. Кейт Хьюит
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Theos, she’d never even had a chance to know her father. He uncurled two fingers and stared at them. Her brother and her best friend. Another two fingers unfurled. Aaron Grainger had committed suicide. He stared down at the five outstretched fingers of his right hand.
Five people. The five closest to her. Did her fear of loss stop her loving T.J.?
Of course not. She loved him. Recklessly. Incandescently. Tenderly. Without restraint or fear, Rebecca had raised her dead friend’s baby. The child of the woman who had betrayed her. All Rebecca had done was give and give and give. No one gave her anything back.
She was so strong. She was even prepared to risk becoming his lover when she suspected that there was nothing down the road for her except rejection.
He was the coward. He’d never even told her how she made him feel. He’d told her that he needed time. Damon unrolled the index finger on his left hand and stared at his hands. Yes, Rebecca believed she’d lost him, too. If he wanted to be part of Rebecca’s life, part of the family Rebecca had recreated, he had to act and overcome his fear.
Damon wheeled around and hurried into his suite.
His cell phone lay on the table in the sitting room. But Rebecca was not home. Demetra told him that she’d gone to Tohunga to check up on her business and she wasn’t sure when Rebecca would be back. Damon disconnected and checked his watch. Rebecca would be at Chocolatique now. It would be better to say what needed to be said face-to-face.
The printout of his diary lay on the coffee table. The pages showed that the next month was hell. He frowned. He had to get through the next week here in L.A. But after that…
Picking up a fat gold pen, he slashed through his commitments for the last fortnight of the month. Everything would have to be rescheduled because he was taking two weeks off to invest in his future.
The next move was his.
Ten
It was Monday morning, eleven days after she had departed, that Rebecca drove back into the elegantly curved drive of the Asteriades mansion. For the last time, she promised herself.
T.J. was bubbling with excitement in the car seat behind her, his oblivious joy underscoring Rebecca’s dread.
It had taken Rebecca two whole days to compose herself after the phone call she’d received from Soula on Friday evening. She still could hardly believe what Soula had told her. Yet she’d begged Soula to let her be the one to break the news to Damon. He deserved that much. Friday night had passed in a blur of tears. As the pale dawn had broken on Saturday, she’d decided what she had to do.
Yesterday had been heartbreaking. She’d taken T.J. down to their favourite rock pool at the beach. He’d paddled, knee-deep in the water, his fear slowly receding as he’d splashed around. With her digital camera she’d taken hundreds of photos. As if that would ever be enough.
In the afternoon they’d sat in the shade of the pohutukawa tree in the front garden, and Rebecca had known that when the tree burst into flame-red flowers this Christmas she would not have the heart to sit beneath it. She would be struggling to put together the broken shards of her life.
The time had come to sell the house. She’d buy another, start afresh. Perhaps closer to Auckland. Chocolatique would have to go, too. Miranda and her sister had expressed interest in taking over the business. She’d start looking out for a new business opportunity. It would give her something to do to keep her mind off—
Soula opened the front door, interrupting her fragmented plans. Deep lines scored the older woman’s cheeks. She’d aged. Rebecca saw from her face that Soula, too, knew this was the end. Wordlessly Rebecca walked into Soula’s arms. They clutched each other and Soula’s shoulders shook.
At last Rebecca stepped away. “Is Damon here?”
“His flight landed an hour ago. He should be home any minute.” Soula’s voice broke. “Come to my suite. I’ll give you the report.”
“Will you keep T.J. entertained until I’ve spoken to Damon?”
Soula nodded, her eyes wet with unshed tears.
When Damon strode into the lounge, Rebecca was waiting for him, outwardly composed but inwardly shaking. He’d already shed his jacket and pulled his tie loose and was in the act of unbuttoning the top buttons of his silk shirt when he saw her. A range of emotions flashed across his face. Rebecca thought she saw a glimpse of wonder and then it was gone and only astonishment remained.
“I thought you were in Tohunga?”
Rebecca rose to her quaking feet. “I’ve come to return your son.”
“My son?” A frown creased his brow. “What do you mean?”
“T.J. is your son. Your mother had a DNA test done. She posted off samples of your hair and T.J.’s to some company in Australia a while ago—without my knowledge. However reprehensible her actions might’ve been, the results are pretty much conclusive. Here’s the report.” She thrust it into his hands. “He’s your son. Yours and Fliss’s.”
Her eyes were filling with tears. Dear God, she wished she’d stop blubbering. “Damon, I swear I never knew.” She stopped, swallowed, fighting to compose herself. “You’ll find T.J.’s birth certificate in the envelope, too. Just before she died Fliss signed the application and stated in the declaration that James was the father.”
Damon pulled the document out. “Tyler James. My son’s name is Tyler James. Fliss always did say she wanted to call our son Tyler.” His eyes were blank, shocked.
Remorse streamed into the empty hole in her heart. “I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine how you must feel. I feel so guilty. The day after he was born I signed a declaration as James’s kin confirming that he was James’s son. I believed it. James believed it. But I can’t forgive myself—because of me, you’ve lost out on time with your son, time you will never recover.”
He didn’t answer. He was still staring at the paper he held, the paper that listed her brother as T.J.’s father. What was he thinking? God, he must hate her. Unending questions spun through her mind. Had Fliss ever believed James to be her baby’s father? Or had she known she was already pregnant, bearing Damon’s child? Rebecca remembered the doctor saying after the birth that he would have said the baby was full-term—not premature at all. But she didn’t even want to think about it. She’d never know for certain anyway.
“I’m sure you’ll be able to get T.J.’s second name changed. And the father’s name corrected,” she babbled. “A court order will be easy enough to obtain with the DNA evidence.”
What would her baby’s name be? Not T.J. anymore. Damon would drop the James. He wouldn’t want any reminders. Maybe he’d keep Tyler.
She didn’t know what more she could do to make it right. What would ever be enough? “I’ll sign any documents you need me sign to relinquish my rights to Tyler.”
“Relinquish your rights to Tyler?” Those startling blue eyes focused on her. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about the fact that I adopted him. Maybe you’ll want to change both his names on the certificate.” Inside her heart ached with savage grief. “I’ll do whatever I can to make it right, even though I can never give you back the missing years.” With trembling fingers she wiped the fresh tears out her eyes. “All his stuff is upstairs, in the room I was using. He’s going to need you. It will be difficult at first.” Then she added in a rush, “I’d like to see him sometimes.”
“What the hell do you mean?”
She could understand Damon’s never wanting to set eyes on her again, not wanting her in T.J.’s life. But she needed that—she couldn’t let T.J. go completely. She drew a deep breath. “I’m selling my house in Tohunga—and Chocolatique. I’ll find something in Auckland, somewhere