a damn thing.
OLIVIA CHECKED on each of her babies, leaning close to them, whispering assurances, kissing silky foreheads, promising each she would find their daddy. They indiscriminately threw their little arms wide or jerked their tiny legs up against their chests and made baby faces that charmed her down to her toes.
Olivia told Faith where she was going and while her mother was busy cooing over Brianna, swiped the lone wedding picture from the oversize handbag.
She stared at it on the way down in the elevator, bypassing her own face to concentrate on Anthony’s.
The wedding had taken place in September. Anthony had been very tan, his light hair bleached lighter by months of summer sun. He looked like the sportsman he was, like a skier or a deep-sea fisherman. His white teeth glowed in contrast to his bronzed skin. With a bittersweet jab in the heart, she remembered their Key West honeymoon. He’d been attentive, charming. His smile never seemed to slip off his face. More than once she’d found herself thinking she’d married a very good actor and then reproached herself and wondered where such a thought came from.
The moment they’d returned home, she’d started throwing up. The diagnosis she was carrying multiples came next. In a daze she’d come home from the doctor’s office, the sonogram clutched in her hand. She would have to tell Anthony there were four little hearts, four little lives—she would have to tell him their future had just been rewritten, things were going to change forever and ever.
He’d seemed as shocked by the news as she was. A week later, she’d begun to adjust to her new reality and a week after that, when she told Faith and her mother, she’d started looking forward to this life-altering experience.
Anthony, however, hadn’t.
Slowly, as Anthony’s summer tan faded with the advent of winter, so had his interest in her. He’d married a woman eager for adventure and ended up with a nauseated blimp. The fancy sports car would have to go—they would need a van of some kind. The guest suite in the house he was building acquired a new designation: nursery wing.
And now it appeared it had just been too much for him.
She found Zac exactly where she’d left him, slouched into the cushions of the sofa, arm bent, head propped on hand, legs sprawled out in front. His eyes were closed, his breathing deep. He was obviously asleep.
He wasn’t tan and he didn’t smile all that much. The broken nose and the scars gave his face character, enhanced his masculinity, in fact. Why hadn’t he married again, had his one short marriage ruined him for love?
She’d known him since they were both kids. As her best friend’s older brother, he’d ignored her, tortured her, teased her, told her to get lost, even kissed her on the lips once, long, long ago. He’d comforted her on occasion, he’d chewed her out and challenged her.
She extended a hand to shake him awake and paused, reluctant to touch him, uncertain why. She felt a nervous flutter in her stomach, her pulse rang in her ears. Where was all this coming from? Had she eaten that day? Was that it? Was she hungry?
No. Not hungry.
After a few moments he spoke without opening his eyes. “Did you get it?”
“Yes.”
He held out a hand as his eyes opened. The intense blue pierced her, grounded her, chased away fanciful thoughts she had no business entertaining.
“I’m going with you,” she said.
“But the babies—”
“Are with their grandma and aunties and Faith, one adult per child. They’ll be fine for a while and this new mom could use an outing.” She stared hard at him, daring him to refuse her. Did he understand she had to go, she had to know? Anthony Capri was her husband, the father of her children. She owed it to all of them to figure out what was going on.
He said, “Sure. No problem.”
It was a cool day, making Olivia glad Faith had bought her a sweater for the press conference. It felt so good to walk on a sidewalk—she could see her own feet again!—to slide into the front seat of a car unaided. Heck, it felt good to fit in the car without pushing the seat so far back it hit the trunk. Her pregnancy had been relatively uneventful, but that still meant months of bed rest, months of being stuck indoors. She was sick of the Internet, books, television and staring out windows. She’d missed the smell of fresh air, the feel of the wind ruffling her hair as she ran, even the cool dampness of the fog swirling overhead.
She offered to drive but Zac refused, claiming his catnap had refreshed him. He seemed revitalized, his driving as sharp and crisp as ever even if he drove slower than she would have.
Olivia couldn’t keep from counting the motels and hotels they passed. Nineteen of them between the hospital and the Marina Inn. Anthony had bypassed nineteen opportunities to be closer to her.
Except apparently he hadn’t stayed at the Marina Inn after all.
“How’s it feel to be free?” Zac asked.
She looked over at his familiar profile, so glad they were friends again. “Like heaven.”
“How much longer do you have to stay at the hospital?”
“Technically, I’m already rooming with Faith at a place across the street, but in reality, I’m living more or less in the nursery. My mom and sisters are going back to Westerly tomorrow.”
“Have all the babies reached four pounds yet?”
“Not all of them. The doctors want them to stay another few days, but I don’t know. We have an excellent hospital in Westerly, as you know. My sister in California is on her way, too.”
“Sandy?”
“Yep. The doctor seemed impressed I’d have a real live nurse in residence for two weeks. I think he can be persuaded to let the babies leave a little early. I hope so. I want to go home.”
He gestured at the wedding photo Olivia held on her lap. “I thought the photo place burned down while you were on your honeymoon?”
“Right before we left. Mom took this picture herself without telling us and had it blown up. Anthony didn’t want a bunch of amateurish photographs floating around. However, you know Mom. She wanted one of her own so she snapped this without him knowing it.”
She gazed down at the photo again. Her own face wreathed in smiles, Anthony’s tall well-built shape towering over her. He was looking to the right of the camera, holding a champagne flute. Sunlight glinted off the gold and diamonds of the Super Bowl ring he always wore, claiming it was impossible to get off his finger as he’d gained weight since first putting it on.
She’d been blown away by the intensity of their whirlwind romance and had allowed herself to be swept into the exciting world he proposed. It was as though he’d known exactly what she wanted—and what her life lacked—and offered it on a silver platter. She’d convinced herself his love was real and that hers was real, too. She’d married him nine weeks after they met.
Nine weeks!
She dug in her handbag for her house keys. On the ring with the keys was a small pocket knife that also housed a pair of scissors. With a few quick stokes, she cut the photo in half, putting the half with her image and the knife back in her purse.
Zac watched her do this without saying a thing.
They pulled into the hotel parking lot. Olivia struggled a bit getting out of the low-slung car, glad when Zac lent a hand.
Using his badge to grease the way around the long line of guests waiting to check in, Zac showed the wedding photo to the staff. “Have any of you seen this man before?”
Almost everyone at the counter recognized Anthony. “That’s Mr. Gray,” a woman with beautiful slanted eyes said. “Paul Gray.”
“He’s a NASCAR