it back into its ponytail and slip her ballet flats back on, she made her way back down the stairs. When she reached the family room, a scene of total devastation greeted her. Vincente was seated on the floor, half reclining against the sofa. His shirt was pulled out of his jeans and his hair and beard were smeared with something that looked suspiciously like dried banana. Lia was asleep with her head on his shoulder.
“She trashed the place,” he whispered. His expression was stunned. “As soon as you left the room, she just went for it.”
Every toy Lia owned was scattered across the floor. The wildflowers Beth had picked the day before were shredded into tiny pieces. The vase they had been in lay on its side and water formed a pool on the carpet around it. Cushions and throws had been dragged from the sofas and piled in a heap on the floor. It looked like a whirlwind had been through the room. And it had. Beth knew what Whirlwind Lia at full force could do. Vincente would not have stood a chance.
“I think she wore herself out.” Vincente smiled ruefully as he indicated the sleeping figure in his arms.
Although she had only just woken up, Beth felt weariness crowding in on her once more. Stooping, she lifted her slumbering daughter into her arms. “I’ll take her upstairs.”
As she carried Lia from the room, she was aware of Vincente watching her intently. Once upstairs, she settled the warm, sleeping bundle into her crib, pulling a blanket over her. There was a draft coming through the open window, which she closed before returning to the crib. Bending to kiss Lia’s soft cheek, she studied her face for a moment or two. Sleeping or waking, she could watch her forever. Right now, she supposed she should go and get the less attractive task of talking to Vincente over with.
When she reached the den, Vincente had picked up the throws and cushions and placed them back on the sofas. He paused in the act of placing Lia’s toys back in their box. “No wonder you look tired.”
“Laurie said she wouldn’t tell you where I lived.”
“She didn’t.” His expression was half wary, half apologetic. “I followed her without her knowledge.” He ran a hand over his face and, feeling the residue of the banana, grimaced. “Is there somewhere I can clean up?”
Beth directed him to the bathroom and went into the kitchen to fix coffee, shaking her head at the normality of the situation. This was Vincente. The thought was on a loop inside her head. They didn’t do polite conversation. They’d never needed words. The last time she’d seen him, she had kicked his apartment door shut and torn his shirt off. They hadn’t exchanged more than a few sentences that night. It had almost killed her to sneak out of his apartment without saying goodbye. She had left his apartment, gotten into the car that was already loaded with her luggage and driven out of Stillwater for good. The ultimate irony had come two weeks later, when she realized that the recurring stomach bug that had been bothering her was actually a four-month pregnancy.
Vincente reappeared with his shirt tucked in and the banana removed. As Beth poured the coffee, she was conscious of those melting dark eyes watching her face. “When were you planning on eating lunch?”
“Don’t do this, Vincente.” She handed him his coffee and took her own to the table, grimacing as she viewed the paperwork that she still hadn’t touched. If she pulled another all-nighter, she might just meet the deadline.
“Do what?” He came to sit opposite her.
“I know these tactics. This is where you soften me up before you go for the kill.” She took a deep breath. “I know how angry you are. Just say what you have to say.”
He didn’t speak for a moment or two and she took in the tight set of his jaw, the glitter in the dark depths of his eyes and the way his clenched fist rested on his muscled thigh. “You think angry comes close to describing what I’m feeling right now? I’m so far beyond that it’s not true. But I want to understand why you cheated me out of almost a year of Lia’s life. I’m trying to contain my feelings so we can have some sort of rational dialogue for the sake of that little girl upstairs, and because I’m concerned about you—”
“Oh, no.” Beth sprang to her feet. “I see where this is going. You think you can walk in here and pull a stunt like that?”
“What the hell are you talking about? What stunt?” Vincente looked up at her, his expression bemused.
“Get some rest, Beth. Let me do this for you, Beth. For old times’ sake?” Her voice quivered as she mimicked his concerned tone. “What will you tell the judge when you try to take my daughter away? You turned up here and found I was incapable of looking after her? Depressed? Unstable? An unfit mother?”
Vincente got to his feet, facing her across the width of the table. “Is that what you think?” His voice was harsh. “That I’ve changed so much I would do that to you?”
“I’m sorry. It’s just that losing her...it’s my worst nightmare.” He didn’t know—couldn’t know—what she’d been through. The debilitating anxiety and isolation of post-partum depression was something she still found hard to come to terms with, even now she was over the worst of it. At times like this, when she felt under pressure, some of the symptoms resurfaced. She no longer needed medication, but she did occasionally keep in touch with her counselor. Right now, she focused on regulating her breathing. It was one of the techniques she had learned for coping with stress.
“Beth, no matter what I’m feeling, I would never try to take Lia from you.”
Beth knew Vincente well enough to sense when she could trust him. He couldn’t be trusted to turn up on time to a date. She couldn’t trust him to remember birthdays and anniversaries. No matter how many times she told him, trusting him to remember that she hated anchovies on her pizza never worked. But when it came to the big things? She knew he would never lie to her. This was one of those times. There was nothing but truth in those dark eyes.
“I still want an answer to my question. Why did you leave Stillwater without telling me you were pregnant?”
She took her seat again, making an effort to relax the tension in her limbs. Following her lead, Vincente sat down, as well. How could she tell this story without telling him all of it? Vincente wasn’t a fool. He was the smartest person she knew. Not only was he the most quick-witted, well-read, articulate person to have made her acquaintance, but he was also the most perceptive. And where Beth was concerned, he was incredibly intuitive. He had always been able to tell when she was lying.
“It wasn’t like that.” She took a sip of her coffee, buying a little time. “I didn’t know I was expecting a baby when I left Stillwater.”
“Math is my job, Beth. I’ve already done the calculations. Lia is eleven months old. That means you must have been four months pregnant when you ran away—” she nodded in confirmation “—yet you didn’t know?” His voice said it all. She hadn’t been some kid who didn’t know her own body. She had been a twenty-seven-year-old attorney with a promising career.
“I had a lot on my mind.” God, those words sounded so lame. But it was true. The newspaper report had arrived two months before she left Stillwater. She hadn’t known that Lia had already been growing inside her, hadn’t noticed the missed periods and the changes in her body. Her whole focus had been on the nagging worry at the back of her mind. The worry that had ratcheted up to a whole new level a month later with the arrival of the letter and the first photograph. By the time the next one turned up in her mailbox a week before she left Stillwater, she had been half-crazy with worry. Any physical symptoms her body had been displaying had come second to the turmoil of her emotions.
Receiving anonymous threats had been bad enough. When those warnings became directed at anyone close to her, she had panicked. Because there was only one person close to her. Whether he liked it or not, Vincente had been the one who meant the most to her. Even though it had broken her heart to leave, even though missing him had been a constant ache ever since, it had seemed like the only way she could protect him.
Now he was here, and she couldn’t tell him the truth. I’ll come after