“Sure,” he said before giving Marco the thumbs-up sign. With the promise that he’d see him soon, he headed back downstairs.
He lingered in the kitchen, ditched his jacket and hung it over the back of one of the chairs and sat at the table, looking around. Like the rest of the house, it was a modern, spacious room, with granite countertops and top-of-the-line appliances. He’d noticed an array of family pictures on the wall in the hallway when he’d arrived and quickly deduced that this was once Gino Radici’s home. He’d always liked Gino. They’d played football together in high school and, as Nicola’s boyfriend, they all used to hang out at JoJo’s pizza parlor most afternoons. Life had been easy back when he was in high school...his parents were happy, his family was a tight unit, Liz was still alive and he’d had Nicola.
Until he blew her off.
At the time, he’d believed he was doing the right thing. Maintaining a long-distance relationship from separate colleges was never going to work. She had her ambitions, and so did he. Then, the week before graduation, when she’d brought up the idea of getting engaged he’d freaked out, suspicious that she might do something they’d regret—like deliberately get pregnant. And Kieran had no intention of being a father at eighteen. So days later, he’d ended it. Badly. He’d said he wanted to see other people. Other girls. He told her to get a life that didn’t include him. Remembering how stupidly he’d behaved only amplified his guilt by a million. She’d deserved better.
When she returned to the kitchen ten minutes later, she looked tired but relieved. “He’s settled...finally. And I managed to get Johnny back into bed and the video game out of his hands. Thank you,” she added and sighed as she moved around the countertop. “I owe you a fresh cup of coffee.”
“You don’t owe me anything.”
It was a pointed remark...one they both knew had little to do with the situation at hand. Their history circled in the air between them. Air that needed to be cleared once and for all.
“Kieran, I—”
“I never meant to hurt you, you know,” he said quietly. “I mean, I know I did...but I was too young and too self-absorbed to fully realize what I was doing. When I did have the maturity to work out that I’d been a complete jerk, we were long gone from one another’s life. But I am genuinely sorry for hurting you, Nicola.”
She was still as a statue. She didn’t look impressed or accepting of his apology. “Sure...whatever.”
“I can leave if you—”
“I promised you more coffee,” she said and turned toward the pantry. “I’ll make a fresh pot. Are you hungry?”
His stomach growled and he remembered he hadn’t eaten since lunch. “Yeah.”
A tiny smiled lifted her mouth at the edges for a moment. “Cannoli?”
He grinned. “I still have a sweet tooth.”
“I figured,” she said and moved around the kitchen, making coffee and preparing the dessert on a plate.
Kieran remained where he was, watching her at her task. “How are you enjoying working at the restaurant again?”
She shrugged lightly. “It’s okay. Managing the place isn’t exactly my dream job...but my father needs the help, and it’s kind of ingrained in my DNA to work there. I’ve been waiting tables at JoJo’s since I was ten years old. Thankfully the place is still busy and turning a profit. I have a tourist party booked for tomorrow...twenty-four hungry mouths to feed. Friday fun, I like to call it.”
“Sounds like a lot of work.”
She shrugged. “Necessary. My dad has slowed down a lot in the past year.”
“He had a stroke, didn’t he?”
“Yes,” she replied. “A few months after Gino died.”
He knew she’d loved her brother. He also knew what it was like to lose a sibling. And he felt her hurt right down to his bones. But he didn’t press the subject. “So, did you have your dream job in San Francisco?”
“I thought so at the time,” she said. “I worked for an organic food company and managed the human resources department.”
“Is that where you met your fiancé?”
Her expression narrowed, and she glanced at him. “You know about that?”
“Liam told me,” he replied. “I figured Kayla told him. Why did you break up?”
She came around the counter with the coffees and the plate of cannoli, placed them on the table and sat down. “He broke it off when he realized he was still in love with his ex-wife.”
He grimaced. “Ouch.”
“Yes,” she said and pushed the plate toward him. “It sucked. Although, probably not as much as what happened to you.”
Kieran grabbed the cannoli, took a bite and then remembered how much he’d always liked Nicola’s cooking. Even in high school, she’d had a flair in the kitchen. “I guess you want to know the whole story?”
She shrugged and sipped her coffee. “Like I said before, it’s none of my business.”
He finished the cannoli in three bites. “Okay, I won’t tell you.”
“Suit yourself.”
He lifted up the mug, took a sip and then watched her over the rim. Her eyes had darkened, and he knew the defiant lift of her chin was a facade. She had matured into an incredibly beautiful woman, and suddenly he wasn’t in any kind of hurry to finish his coffee and leave. Her eyes, the delicately arched brows, her full, pink mouth, all a riveting combination of color and lovely angles. His gaze lingered on her mouth, and he experienced a sudden tightening in his groin. He knew it was stupid, knew that thinking about Nicola as anything other than an old flame was pointless. She hadn’t forgiven him. And he didn’t want to get involved with anyone. But still, he wasn’t quite ready to get up and end the evening.
And for the first time in forever, he actually wanted to talk.
“She left me for my best friend,” he said quietly.
Her gaze met his, and she held it and tilted her head a fraction. For a second, he saw compassion in her expression, a fleeting understanding that she clearly didn’t want to feel because she obviously still hated him.
“I’m sorry.”
He shrugged. “Thanks.”
“And the other thing?”
Discomfort pierced his chest. It was always that way. Nearly two years on, and he still felt the pain of loss and betrayal as though it were yesterday. One day, he hoped the pain would lessen, that he wouldn’t wake up each morning with a hole in his heart so wide he couldn’t imagine it being filled with anything or anyone. He grappled with how much to tell her and then figured there was little point in being coy or secretive about the situation. “You mean my son?”
“Yes.”
He let out a long breath. “Christian. Who, it turns out, wasn’t my son but was actually fathered by my best friend.”
The sympathy in her expression returned. “How awful! You really don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”
“You can hear it from me,” he said and shrugged. “Or via one of the local gossip channels.”
“Okay,” she said, quieter than he expected. “You can tell me about him.”
Kieran’s chest tightened further, and the band of pressure at his temple returned. Fatigue spread through his limbs, and he sat back in the chair. “I believed he was my son for eighteen months before my now-ex-wife admitted the truth.”
Memories of that awful day bombarded his thoughts.