A Clandestine Corporate Affair. Michelle Celmer
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hurt me back?”
“That isn’t what I said.”
No, but he could see that he’d hit a nerve.
“This is getting us nowhere,” she said. “If you want to talk about Max, fine. But if you came here to point fingers, you might as well leave.”
He leaned forward. “You could at least have the decency, the courage, to admit you may have made a mistake.”
“I did what I thought was best for my baby. For everyone.” She paused, then added grudgingly, “But I won’t deny that I was hurt and confused and maybe not considering everyone’s feelings.”
Nathan figured that was about as close to an admission of guilt, or an apology, as he was going to get. And she was right: pointing fingers would get them nowhere. Neither would flying off the handle. The only way to discuss this was calmly and rationally. And considering her tendency to leap to the defensive, he was going to have to be the sensible one. In short, he considered how his father would handle the situation, then did the exact opposite.
He swallowed his bitterness, and a fairly large chunk of his pride, and said, “Let’s forget about placing blame, or who wronged who, and why don’t you tell me about my son.”
“First, why don’t you tell me what you plan to do now that you know about him,” Ana said. There would be no point in him learning about a son he had no intention of seeing. Although he did seem to want to handle this in a civilized manner, and she was grateful. Though she could take whatever he could dish out and then some, it was always more fun not to be verbally drawn and quartered.
“To be honest, I’m not sure what I plan to do,” he said. “I’m still trying to process this.”
“You’re worried about how it will affect your career?”
“Of course that’s a concern.”
“It shouldn’t be. He’s your son. You should love and accept him unconditionally. If you can’t do that, there’s no room in his life for you.”
“That’s a little harsh, don’t you think?”
“No, I don’t. He’s my responsibility and I know what’s best for him. And unless you’re willing to claim him as your child, and carve out a permanent place in your life for him—and that includes regular visitation that is convenient for me—you can forget seeing him at all. He needs stability, not a sometimes father who yo-yos in and out of his life on a whim.”
An uncharacteristic show of anger hardened his expression. “I imagine you’ll be expecting child support as well,” he said, jaw tense.
He just didn’t get it. He thought she was being obtuse, but this wasn’t about the money, or a need to manipulate him. This was all about Max and what he needed. “Keep your money. We don’t need it.”
“He’s my child and my financial responsibility.”
“You can’t buy your way into his life, Nathan. He’s not for sale. If you can’t be there for him emotionally, for the long haul, you’re out of the game. That’s nonnegotiable.”
She could see he wasn’t thrilled with her direct approach, or her list of demands, but that was too damned bad. Parenting was tough, and either he was in or he was out. He couldn’t do it halfway.
“I guess I have a lot to think about,” Nathan said.
“I imagine you do.” She rose from the chair, prompting him to do the same. “When you’ve made a decision, then you can see Max.”
He pulled himself to his feet, looking irritated, and maybe a little shell-shocked. The enormity of what she was asking from him was not lost on her. Being responsible for another human being, knowing she would shape Max into the adult he would one day become, was terrifying and emotionally exhausting … and the most rewarding thing she had ever done or even imagined doing.
Until Nathan understood that and accepted it, he wouldn’t get within fifty feet of Max.
“I need some time to think about this,” Nathan said.
“I understand. And I want you to know that whatever you decide is okay with me. I would love for Max to know his father, but I don’t want you to feel pressured into something you’re not ready for. I can do this on my own.”
He walked to the door and shrugged into his jacket, glancing down the hall to the bedrooms. For a second she thought he might ask to see him again, but he didn’t. “Can I call you?” he asked.
“My number hasn’t changed.” He would know that if he had bothered to contact her in the past eighteen months.
He paused at the door, hand on the knob, and turned back to her. “I am sorry for the way things worked out between us.”
But not sorry enough to want her back in his life, she thought as he walked to his car.
She didn’t doubt it was going to be a very long night for Nathan. Maybe even a long week, depending on how long it took him to make up his mind. He was not the kind of man to act on impulse. He thought things through carefully before making a decision of any kind. He once told her that their affair was the only spontaneous thing he’d done in his adult life. It had been a thrill to know that she’d had that kind of power over someone like him. Too bad she couldn’t make him love her, too.
She watched out the front window until Nathan drove away, then she stepped outside and walked across the lawn to the unit next door, rubbing her arms against the cool air seeping through her sheer top. She knocked, and almost immediately Jenny Sorenson, her neighbor and good friend, opened the door, looking worried.
“Hey, is everything okay?” she asked, ushering Ana inside. Max was sitting on the living room floor with Portia, Jenny’s fifteen-month-old daughter. Ana hadn’t been sure how Nathan would react, so she’d felt it was wisest to keep Max out of the picture.
“Everything is fine. I’m sorry to dump Max on you like that without an explanation, but I didn’t have a lot of time.”
When Max heard her voice he squealed and crawled in her direction, but then he got distracted by the toy Portia was banging against the coffee table and changed course. Max was an independent kid, and unless he was wet, hungry or hurt, toys took precedence over Mom any day.
“You looked really upset when you dropped him off. I was worried.”
“I ran into Max’s dad today. He may or may not be back in the picture. He wanted to talk, and I felt it would be best if Max wasn’t there.” She hadn’t told Jenny the details of the situation with Nathan. In fact, up until the time Ana had Max, she and Jenny, a conservative and soft-spoken doctor’s wife, had barely said hello. Then one afternoon when Max was a few weeks old and suffering a pretty nasty case of colic, Jenny heard his screams through the open window and stopped by to offer her help. Like Ana, she’d also made the choice to raise her baby without the help of a nanny or an au pair, and she’d been a godsend. She taught Ana a few tricks she’d learned with her own colicky baby, and they had been friends ever since. Still, Ana was selective about what she did and didn’t tell her.
“How do you feel about that?” Jenny asked her.
“Conflicted. I’d love for Max to know his father, but at the same time I feel as though I’m setting him up to be let down. If he’s even half as bad as my father—”
“It’s only fair to give him a chance,” Jenny said firmly, glancing at her daughter, who was in a tug-of-war with Max over a stuffed bear. “A baby needs its father.”
Even though Portia barely ever saw hers. Brice Sorenson, a busy surgeon, was often out of the house before the baby woke, and home after she was tucked in bed. If they were lucky, they might see him for a few hours Sunday between hospital rounds and golf. Though Jenny hadn’t come right out and said it, it sounded as though even when he was home, he wasn’t really there. He was older than