Three
Though Nathan hated that Ana’s words made so much sense, after several days of considering his son’s well-being, he knew she was right. Either he was in or he was out of Max’s life. There was no doing it halfway. But he had to consider how claiming his son could impact his career. He was sure that if the truth came out he could kiss his chances at the CEO spot goodbye. The board would see it as a direct and flagrant conflict of interest. Since they learned that the explosion at the refinery was the result of someone tampering with the equipment, people had been quick to point the finger at Birch Energy—even though as of yet they hadn’t been able to prove any sort of connection.
But even more important, how would his being in the kid’s life influence Max? Nathan had no idea what it took to be a father—at least, not a good one. The only thing he knew for sure was that he didn’t want to be anything like his own father: accepting nothing but perfection, verbally, and sometimes physically, lashing out if anyone dared fall short of his unrealistic expectations.
Nathan was too much like his old man, too filled with suppressed anger to ignore the possibility that he would be a terrible father. Yet he couldn’t just forget that there was a child out there whom he’d brought into this world, who shared half of his genetic code. He had to at least try. And if he couldn’t be there for Max, even though Ana said they didn’t need his money, Nathan would see that Max was taken care of financially for the rest of his life.
He called Ana Wednesday afternoon and asked if he could come by to talk.
“How about eight-thirty tonight? After Max goes to bed.”
“You still won’t let me see him?”
“Not until I’ve heard what you have to say.”
Fair enough. “I’ll see you at eight-thirty then.”
“See you then.”
He hung up just as Emilio, the company CFO, knocked on his office door.
Nathan gestured him in, thinking that this visit had something to do with the new marketing budget his department had submitted Monday morning. If Western Oil was going to rebuild their reputation with the public, it was going to cost them.
Instead, Emilio said, “Sorry to interrupt,” and handed him a small white envelope. “I just wanted to drop this off.”
“What is it?”
“An invitation.”
“For …?”
“My wedding.”
Nathan laughed, thinking that either he’d misheard or it had to be a joke. “Your what?”
A grin kicked up the corner of Emilio’s mouth. “You heard me.”
Nathan knew no one more vehemently against marriage than Emilio. What the hell had happened?
Curiosity getting the best of him, he tore the envelope open and pulled out the invitation, his mouth dropping open when he recognized the bride’s name. “This wouldn’t be the Isabelle Winthrop who was indicted for financial fraud?”
“Apparently you haven’t been watching the news. All charges against her were dropped last Friday.”
That explained it. He’d worked late Friday then went to the party Saturday, and since then pretty much all he’d thought about was Ana and his son. He couldn’t recall turning on the television or even picking up a newspaper. “And now you’re marrying her?”
“Yep.”
Nathan shook his head. “Didn’t her husband die just a few months ago?”
“It’s a long story,” Emilio said.
I’ll bet it is, he thought. One he was surprised he hadn’t heard about before now. But like himself, Emilio was a very private person. And Nathan couldn’t be happier that he’d found someone he wanted to be with for the rest of his life. “One I can’t wait to hear,” he said.
Emilio grinned. “By the way, I looked over your proposal. I’d like to set up a meeting with Adam to go over the numbers. Probably early next week.”
“Have your secretary call my secretary.”
Nathan spent the rest of the afternoon in meetings, during the last of which they ordered in dinner, which saved him the trouble of having to go out or pick up carryout to eat at home before he changed out of his suit and left for Ana’s place. He arrived at eight-thirty on the nose. Sometime since Saturday she had decorated the front of her condo for the coming holiday. Lighted balsam and fir swags framed the door and windows, and she’d hung a wreath decorated with Christmas bulbs and fresh holly on the front door. Nathan hadn’t hung a single decoration in his high-rise apartment downtown. He didn’t even own any. Why decorate for the holidays when he was never there? If he decorated anywhere, logically it should be his office, since that was where he spent the majority of his time.
Before he could knock on the door it swung open.
“Right on time,” Ana said. She was dressed in hot pink sweatpants and a matching hoodie over a faded T-shirt stained with something orange that may or may not have been mashed-up carrots. Her fiery red hair was pulled haphazardly back with a clip, and she didn’t have any makeup on. Yet she still managed to look sexy as hell.
Motherhood looked damned good on her.
She stepped aside to let him in. “Excuse the mess, but I just got Max settled, and I haven’t had time to straighten up yet.”
She wasn’t kidding. It looked as if a bomb had gone off in the living room. He had no idea one kid could play with so many toys.
“It looks like there were a dozen kids here,” he said, shrugging out of his jacket and hanging it on the coat tree.
“Five, actually. It’s playdate day, and it was my week to host.”
“Playdate?”
“You know, a bunch of parents get together with their kids and let them play together. Although me and my next-door neighbor, Jenny, are the only actual parents. Two others are nannies, and one is a French au pair. Jenny and I are both pretty sure the au pair is sleeping with the baby’s father. And one of the nannies told us that the couple she works for is on the verge of divorce, and he sleeps in the spare bedroom now.”
He had no idea playdates could be so scandalous.
“Isn’t Max a little young to be playing with other kids?” he asked.
“It’s never too early to start socializing children.”
Proving that he knew absolutely nothing about parenting. “You don’t have a nanny?”
“I love being with Max, and I’m in a position where I don’t have to work now. I like being a stay-at-home mom. Not that it’s been easy, but well worth it.”
His mother had been too busy with her charities and her various groups to take much time for her sons.
Ana gestured into the living room. “Come on in and have a seat. Would you like something to drink?”
He could probably use one. Or five. But no amount of alcohol was going to make this easier. “No thanks.”
She waited until he sat on the couch, then took a seat on the edge of the chair. “So, you’ve made a decision?”
“I have.” He propped his elbows on his knees, rubbing his palms together. Ana watched him expectantly. He wasn’t sure how she was going to like this. She was probably expecting a definitive answer, but he wasn’t ready to give her that. Not yet. “I’d like to have a trial period.”
Her