That Time in Venice (Love Unexpected Book 6) Read online

  “You realize you’re talking to the wrong guy, right?”

  Her face transformed before him, from angry to weary. “You want to know what’s wrong? You want to talk? Fine. This relationship isn’t working for me.”

  “Bullshit. You’ve been happy. What’s wrong?” Reed remained in the same spot and folded his arms across his chest.

  “What do you want me to say?”

  “Tell me the truth. Don’t hit me in the gut with some nonsense about our relationship not working for you. Since when? I just met your mom and the rest of your family at your cousin’s wedding. A week ago I introduced you to my family.”

  “I never asked you to introduce me to your family.”

  “So does that mean you don’t want to be a part of my life? You don’t want to be a part of Brielle’s life? Because if that’s the case, then you need to let me know right now. It’s one thing to play with my emotions, but I won’t let you play with my daughter’s.”

  Her eyes widened. “Don’t accuse me of playing games with her emotions or yours. That’s not fair.”

  “Then what the hell is going on right now?” His voice had gotten louder, more panicked. “Is this just a fucking game where you mess with my head and rip my heart out? Are you punishing me for what I did seven years ago?”

  “No!”

  “Then why? Why are you saying our relationship isn’t working for you? I love you! What am I supposed to do with that?”

  Reed froze. The shock of his words blindsided him. Her, too, apparently. Her mouth fell open. He hadn’t meant to admit his love for her in such a raw fashion, but the words were out there now. A scary and unfamiliar sensation beat his chest. He was wide open, his soul laid bare to her.

  “Should I act as if the past couple of months didn’t mean anything?” he asked in a quieter tone.

  “That’s not what I said,” she whispered, sounding defeated.

  “Help me to understand, Anika.”

  “You’re so perfect, Reed. You’re considerate and thoughtful. You’re a good father.” Her shoulders drooped. “Being with you is so hard,” she said in a low tone.

  “It doesn’t have to be. If I’m doing something wrong, tell me.”

  She stared at the wooden slats in the porch.

  “Come inside so we can talk.”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “If I come inside, I’ll change my mind about what I have to do.”

  He didn’t like the sound of that at all. “If you’re afraid you’ll change your mind, then you aren’t really sure about your decision.” When she didn’t respond, he continued. “I don’t want to lose you. You’re important to me. I love you.”

  She lifted her gaze. “How long do you think your love will last?”

  He was in the fight of his life. He was definitely losing her.

  “I don’t see my love diminishing in the least. It hasn’t in seven years. I knew in Venice that you were the woman for me, but I was too chicken to do anything about it. I was dumb and young and thought I wanted to sow my wild oats instead. Had I been smart, I would’ve taken you up on your offer to stay in touch.”

  She hugged herself and blinked away tears. “Everything you say is what I’ve wanted to hear. I want to believe you.”

  Her sadness tore up his soul. He wanted to ease the hurt and pain so evident in the depths of her eyes.

  “These aren’t only words. I’m speaking the truth. My truth. The truth of a grown, mature man who has learned what’s really important in life. It took me a while to figure things out, but I have. Whatever’s wrong, we can work through it.”

  “How can you be certain that you love me, and how can you be sure that it will last?”

  “Because I’ve never felt like this before,” Reed said, his voice earnest and hoarse. “I know that my love will last because my feelings are so deep and so wide for you that there’s literally no end in sight.” He cupped her face in one of his hands. “I know because it feels right, and has felt right since the beginning. Since Venice, when it felt like we were hidden away from the rest of the world, just the two of us for a little while, for that brief moment in time. I forgot everything and everyone, and the same forgetfulness overcomes me every time we’re together. I’ve never experienced that with anyone else, and I want to feel that way forever.”

  He bent his head and kissed her, testing her soft lips and savoring the softness of her mouth against his. He never grew tired of kissing Anika. She really was the perfect temptation, a little bit sweet but with the right amount of sexiness to keep him interested.

  “Tell me what I did to make you want to run from me.”

  “You didn’t do anything. I simply had to face reality.” Tears shimmered in her eyes.

  “What reality?”

  “That I can’t give you what you want.”

  “What do you think I want?” He laughed, but panic clotted in his chest.

  “Something important. I know that if I can’t give it to you, you’ll stop wanting me.”

  “I’ll never stop wanting you.”

  “I wish I could believe you.”

  “How bad could it be?”

  “Really bad.” She covered her face with her hands. “Oh god, I’m not ready to do this.” She breathed the words in a broken whisper.

  “Anika, talk to me. What is it?”

  She took a deep breath. “I can never have kids.” She studied his face, anxious to read his expression.

  Reed blinked. “What do you mean—”

  “I mean, I cannot have children. I’ll never get pregnant.”

  Then he did the same thing she’d seen many times before: his gaze dropped to her stomach. “Ever?”

  His doubt wrenched through her gut. “Ever.”

  “There must be something. Medicine has come a long way. There are plenty of people who think they could never have children who do, thanks to fertility treatments. There are options.”

  “There are no options for me. There’s no magic pill that can fix me.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  Anika licked her lips. “When I was eighteen, I had to have my ovaries removed. That’s what caused the small scars on my stomach. I was in a lot of pain, and after talking to multiple doctors, I made the difficult decision to have them removed.”

  Reed ran his hand through his hair. “Help me out here, because it’s been a while since I’ve had biology, but the ovaries are where the eggs are made?”

  “That’s right. Both of mine are gone, so I can’t produce any more eggs.”

  “S-so…” He frowned.

  “I can never have kids, Reed. That’s why we can’t be together.”

  His eyes widened. “Wait a minute, you’re moving too fast. Who said we can’t be together? Give me a minute to digest all of this.”

  “There’s no need.” She already knew what was coming and took off toward the car, moving on quick feet.

  “Where are you going?” She was down the steps before he caught her by the arm. “Anika.”

  “Stop it!” She jerked away and hurried forward.

  He grabbed her by the arm again and swung her around to face him. “Goddammit, we’re not done talking!”

  Anika tugged away. “Don’t pretend it doesn’t matter because I can see it in your face.”

  “I’m in shock. I’ve seen you with my daughter. I assumed…” His voice trailed off as he parsed his words, trying hard not to hurt her or make a verbal faux pas.

  “And I’ve seen you with your daughter.” Her voice came stronger. “And your little cousins. And listened to you talk about having siblings for Brielle. If you and I were together, I couldn’t give either of you that.”

  She marched toward the car again.

  “Stop moving!”

  She faced him, anger boiling up inside of her. This was so unfair. Why did he have to come back into her life? Why couldn’t he just leave her alone?

  “Why? What are you going to say?
That we’ll get through it and it doesn’t matter? For how long? How long before you regret your decision, resent me, and wish that my infertility wasn’t true? Before you long for another baby—your own blood?”

  He ran his fingers through his hair. “Yes, I said I want more kids, but you’re being very unfair and making assumptions about my thoughts and my wishes.”

  “I’m not wrong. But I don’t blame you, Reed. Believe me, I understand. You wanted to know why Emerson broke up with me, and this is why. I don’t expect you to be any different. I want you to have that little girl and little boy you so desperately want. I’m just not the woman to give them to you. I’m messed up. I’m b-broken, and there’s no miracle drug in the works for me. I won’t magically get pregnant. It can’t happen. It won’t happen. Ever.” Her voice cracked.

  “Sweetheart.”

  He stepped toward her, but she pulled back as if he were a leper.

  “Don’t.” She drew a trembling breath. “It’s better this way. Trust me. Two years from now, I don’t want you to long for more or think I’m not enough—that I wasn’t worth the sacrifice.”

  “I would never think that. You’re everything to me.”

  “Good night, Reed.”

  “Anika, wait.” His voice was hoarse, his face tortured, but she knew it would pass.

  She quickly slipped into the car and locked the door.

  “Anika, wait! Don’t drive off.”

  She started the vehicle.

  Reed pounded on the window so hard she worried he’d smash the glass. Ignoring him, she concentrated on backing out and getting as far away as possible.

  “Open the door. Open the door. We’re not done talking!” Jogging along beside the car, he yanked the handle. “Anika!”

  Next door, a light came on in the first floor of his neighbor’s house.

  Anika continued backing toward the street.

  “Open the door! Don’t drive away from me. Don’t drive away!”

  She reversed faster, and he ran after her, but she pulled out into the street. He stood at the end of the driveway, breathing heavily. He looked back at the house and then at her, his eyes begging her to stop. He couldn’t leave. Not with Brielle upstairs. She drove off, the sound of his yells muffled by the distance and rolled up windows.

  She pounded the steering wheel as tears filled her eyes. “Shit, shit, shit.”

  She wished a lot of things. She wished Judge Evers had never recommended her firm to Reed. She wished he’d never walked through their doors. She wished she hadn’t been assigned to his project.

  But more than anything, she wished she hadn’t fallen in love with him and fooled herself into having hope. Because now she had to spend the rest of her life knowing what she was missing.

  Chapter 23

  “I don’t want to talk to Grandma,” Brielle said quietly. She sat on the sofa in the den, hands clasped on her lap, body slumped into a miserable little curve.

  “Why not?”

  Reed crouched before her. He was tired. He hadn’t slept a wink last night for thinking about Anika. Then bright and early this morning, Nanette called to blast him for not letting her speak to her granddaughter.

  Brielle used to love talking to her grandmother and had even memorized the Dallas number so she could call herself. He wanted them to stay in touch, recognizing that her grandmother was a connection to not only her maternal history, but her African-American heritage.

  “I get sad when I talk to her,” Brielle murmured.

  Reed took her hands in his and rubbed his thumb along her little fingers. “I know it makes you sad, but grandma loves you. She wants to talk to you for a few minutes, and you haven’t talked to her in a very long time. She misses you. Don’t you miss her?”

  Brielle nodded, and he wasn’t sure if she was telling the truth or if she’d simply nodded to appease him.

  He couldn’t put off Nanette any longer. For a whole month Brielle had said she didn’t want to talk to her, and he’d allowed it. But her grandmother was furious and accused him of not only keeping them apart, but alienating her from her grandbaby. He’d permitted Brielle to dictate whether or not she talked to her grandmother, but that was wrong. A four-year-old child should not make that kind of decision—especially when it meant losing touch with family who loved her.

  “Tell you what, spend a few minutes on the phone. I’ll be nearby—right here in the kitchen where you can see me—and when you get off the phone, if you’re sad, we’ll talk about it. Okay?”

  She nodded again but didn’t make eye contact.

  “That’s my girl.” Reed kissed her knuckles and lifted to his feet. “Here’s the phone. You remember the number?”

  Brielle nodded and took the cordless. When she started dialing, he went into the kitchen. From there, he had a clear view to the den because of the modifications made by the design team.

  He kept busy making iced tea. Pulling the ingredients from the cabinets, he thought about Anika. What was she doing now?

  Reed measured the ingredients into a glass pitcher. As he worked, he glanced up to see how Brielle was doing.

  He’d learned to stop hovering while she talked to her grandmother. The therapist had said to give her space and let her breathe, which hadn’t been easy to do. As her sole parent, he’d been overprotective in the new role of father and mother, but he’d always obliged.

  As he stirred the iced tea, he watched his daughter, the phone up to her ear, head and shoulders still bent in a sign of…what?

  He stopped stirring and really paid attention to her body language. She’d been so excited earlier today when they’d gone to the park. There’d been a sparkle in her brown eyes. Laughter on her lips. The simple, pure joy of childhood as she ran and climbed throughout the playground with the other kids.

  But now, Brielle looked…defeated. She kept her eyes downcast and her gaze planted on some spot on her lap.

  Something wasn’t right. She seemed to have a full-on aversion to talking to her grandmother.

  With a knotted stomach, Reed eased the extension from its cradle. He listened to Nanette speaking in her grandmotherly voice.

  “…and don’t you want to come back to Dallas, to be with Grandma? Grandma misses you, and so does Pop Pop. We all miss you, but your daddy’s not going to let you come back. You’ve got to show him that you’re not happy. You’ve got to—”

  “What are you doing?”

  Reed’s voice cracked with the force of a firecracker through the line. He could hardly breathe. His gaze rested on Brielle, and she lifted her head. The look in her eyes—the sadness—tore at him. She shouldn’t know sadness or have to concern herself with pleasing anyone. Her only concern should be which stuffed animal was going to suffer through her choke hold later tonight.

  “I said, what are you doing?” he demanded in an even louder voice. Silence greeted the question. “Hang up the phone, Brielle. Right now.” Brielle just stared. “I said hang up the phone.”

  She hung up. Her lower lip trembled and her face crumbled.

  Reed muted the phone. “Go to your room, sweetheart. You’re not in trouble. Go upstairs, and I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

  Brielle ran off. He listened to her footsteps hurry down the hallway and climb the stairs.

  Reed unmuted the phone. “Care to tell me what the hell you think you’re doing? Is this what your conversations have been about all along? You’ve been turning my daughter against me?” He’d had his suspicions but hadn’t wanted to believe the worst of Nanette, quickly and guiltily casting aside his negative thoughts.

  “I haven’t been turning her against you.” The grandmotherly tone was gone, and all that remained was cool disdain.

  “Then what do you call what I just heard? You told her—”

  “I don’t know what you think you heard, but I was telling my granddaughter how much we miss her.”

  “And coaching her on how to throw tantrums and be disruptive?”

  “I was
not!”

  “Don’t deny it! Now everything makes sense. Every time she gets off the phone with you she’s completely different. Then the next day she throws a goddamn tantrum, and now I know why.”

  “Watch your language with me, young man.”

  “Save me the respect-your-elders bullshit, Nanette. You’ve been creating problems for me on purpose. Why? Because you don’t think I’m good enough to raise your granddaughter? Because you think you could do a better job?”

  “A pack of wolves could do a better job,” Nanette seethed, disgust dripping from her voice.

  He’d suspected Nanette didn’t care for him, but the disgust coming through the phone line—the utter vitriol that dripped from her voice had unmasked the true depth of her contempt.

  “Brielle is mine. My flesh and blood, and I am going to raise her here, in Atlanta. I don’t give a damn if you like it or not.”

  Nanette laughed. “Oh, I know. You don’t give a damn about anything, do you? You never have.”

  “That is not true.”

  “After my daughter died, you swooped in here on your white horse to save the day, as if you had a clue how to raise that child.”

  “You’ve had a problem with me from the beginning. I’m sorry I’m not what you wanted, but I am her father, and I have a right to raise my daughter the way I see fit. And I see fit to raise her in Atlanta, with my family.”

  “You see fit?” Nanette’s laughter came out as a derisive cackle this time. It lasted so long, Reed wondered if she’d ever stop. “You’re right. I never wanted you anywhere near my daughter. But you see, I didn’t have a choice. I thought Layla was making a mistake when she dated you. I knew it the minute I met you. I know your type. The irresponsible manwhore, only out for a good time. And I was right! You took advantage of her. You got her pregnant and then you disappeared.”

  “That’s not what happened.” He and Layla had had an understanding. They lived in different cities and were pursuing their individual career paths. A long distance relationship was perfect.

  “I was the one who had to watch my daughter crying over a man who didn’t deserve her tears.”

  Reed winced guiltily and ran rough fingers through his hair. “I cared about Layla.”