Loving You (37 page)

Outside, the night was clear and cold, and the stars hung overhead like lanterns at a party. A soft wind sighed past them. Tasha stopped and pulled the envelope from her purse. Handing it over, she said, “It's the DNA results. They came through earlier today.”

He took the envelope. “Did you look?”

“No. It's got your name and Jonas's on it. Not mine.”

Nick nodded slowly, thoughtfully, his fingers smoothing over the surface of the envelope. Here it was. The answer to the question that had started this whole thing three weeks ago. He started to open it, then stopped again. Shifting his gaze to Tasha, he said, “Before I open this, I want you to know something.”

“Nick—”

He cruised right over her interruption. “Being in Dallas when you and Jonas needed me … well, it brought home a couple of things I've been thinking about lately.”

“It doesn't matter. You came. You were here. For both of us. You're here
now
.”

“Yeah. And I'm staying here.”

“What?”

“My old high school coach has offered me his job at Chandler High.” Her eyes widened and he smiled at her surprise. “I know what you're thinking. ‘Football star' will never survive without the cameras and the fast life.”

“That's not what I was thinking,” she said. “Not even close.”

Nick started pacing, moving around her in a tight
circle. “I've made lots of money, Tasha. I've had the star treatment. I've been all over the world. Now I want to be here. I want to make a difference.” He laughed shortly. “I want to someday be an old man and have kids I coached thirty years before come back and tell me I made a difference.” He stopped and looked at her. “Am I nuts?”

“No,” she said softly.

He grinned. “That's a relief, since I already quit my job.”

“You did?”

He shrugged, remembering. “I was about to go on air when I got your call. I unhooked the mike, pitched it at the producer, and said, ‘I'm outta here.' They said, ‘If you leave, you're fired.' I said, ‘No problem, I quit.'“

“I don't know what to say,” Tasha admitted, clearly stunned.

“I believe that's a first.” He grinned again and Tasha's heart fluttered.

“Jonas is fine. You have a new job. All that's left is…” She pointed at the envelope.

“Right.” Nick's future was stretched out in front of him. He could already see him and Tasha and Jonas in the house by the lake. Jonas would go to Chandler High, just like his old man. Hell, Nick would be coaching his son at his own old high school. And there would be other kids, too. They'd have a big family, he told himself as he pried up the metal tabs and slipped out the single sheet of paper inside.

Life was good and about to get better.

Then he read the paper. “I don't believe it.” His gaze lifted to hers. “I'm not his father.”

“What?” Tasha snatched the paper from him. She
looked it over, then turned dazed eyes up to him.

“I'm not Jonas's dad.” Nick felt the shock ripple through him from his head right down to the soles of his feet. He'd been so sure. So absolutely positive. For the first time in his life, he understood the saying “you could have knocked me over with a feather.”

Not so long ago, he would have felt a surging sense of relief at this news, Nick realized. He'd have hopped into his car and gone right back to the life that now felt foreign to him.

Only a few weeks ago, he would have killed to get that interview with the Cowboys. Today, all he'd done was curse the fact that Dallas was too far away from the people he loved. From Tasha. From his
son
.

When this whole thing had started, he'd been determined to prove that Jonas was no relation to him. And now that he held the proof in his hands, all he felt was … empty.

“We'd better go in,” Tasha said, her voice barely more than a whisper. Handing him the piece of paper that defined their futures, she said, “Jonas will be waking up soon.”

“Right.” Nick followed after her. Carefully he tucked that paper back into the envelope and flattened the copper tabs back into place.

*   *   *

Jonas woke up slowly. “Tasha?”

“I'm here, sweetie.”

Blinking at the light, Jonas turned his head on the pillow and smiled at Tasha. Then he noticed the man beside her. A weak grin lit his face. “Nick, you're here, too.”

“You bet, sport.”

“Can we go home now?”

“Maybe tomorrow,” Tasha told him.

“'Kay.” He let out a jaw-cracking yawn.

“Jonas,” Nick said, his voice soft and low, “the DNA test results came back.”

Tasha sent him a look, but Nick was done waiting. Tests or no tests, this kid was his
son
. And he'd fight anybody who tried to say different.

“Yeah?” Jonas asked. His eyes were glassy. His fingers nervously plucked at the blanket covering him. “What'd it say?”

Nick leaned forward, bracing his elbows on the upper bar of the guardrail edging Jonas's bed. The overhead fluorescent light spotlighted the bed and the boy lying in it. Shadows crouched in the corners of the room.

Staring down into brown eyes so much like his own, Nick handed the envelope to Jonas and said, “This is yours and you can decide what to do with it after I tell you something.”

Jonas held the envelope tightly but kept his gaze on Nick.

Tasha moved in closer to Nick, as if to protect the boy. Well, Nick thought, that's just what he was trying to do.

“Tests don't mean a damn thing, Jonas,” Nick said, meeting the kid's gaze and holding it. “To me, it doesn't matter what those test results are. I
choose
you to be my son.”

Jonas blinked.

Tasha inhaled sharply.

Nick continued, despite the knot in his throat. “I love you, Jonas. In every way that matters at all, I am your father. I love you.” He said the words again, drilling
them home and enjoying being able to say them to the boy who meant so much to him. “That's what counts—the love—so I have my answers. The tests don't mean a thing to me. I don't even care what's inside that envelope. Now it's up to you.” He took a breath, then blew the air out and said, “You can look in the envelope and know what the tests say.
Or
you can
choose
to be my son and tear up the envelope. Up to you.”

Jonas looked from Nick, to Tasha, and back again. Seconds ticked past until finally, “I choose you, too,
Dad
.” Then quietly, slowly, the boy tore the envelope in half.

Nick grinned at him, gathered up the pieces, and tossed them into the trash. Then he reached down to ruffle the kid's hair. “Now that that's settled … you're getting a haircut as soon as you're well.”

“Aw, man.…”

“And as for you,” Nick turned toward Tasha and held out one hand, “I'm going to say this again. Here. In front of Jonas.
Our
son.”

Her breath caught.

“I
love
you, Tasha.” He flashed a grin at her. “And I
know
you love me.”

Jonas made a gagging noise—but he was smiling.

Tasha blinked and bit down on her bottom lip.

“This isn't the most romantic proposal ever made,” Nick continued, his voice dropping to a low scrape of sound, “but it's real. The most real thing I've ever done. I love you and I need you to believe that. To trust that. I can't imagine my life without you.”

“Wow,” Jonas muttered.

“I want you to marry me.” Nick stared into her eyes, willing her to see his love. Willing her to see that she
held the key to his happiness. To their future. To the world they could make together. “It's your turn to choose, Tasha. Help me raise
our
son. We'll adopt him legally together. And together, we can give him a big family. Love me, Tasha,” he added in a whisper, “and let me love you.”

Tasha's heart lifted. Actually lifted. If her rib cage hadn't been holding it in, she thought it just might have floated to the ceiling. All her life, she'd been on the outside. If Mimi hadn't found her, Tasha would never have learned the joy in loving Jonas. And if Jonas hadn't sued Nick, Tasha would never have discovered the wonder of
being
in love.

Fate had twisted and turned to bring her to this spot. This point in her life, where she could choose to cling to a past that continued to haunt her—or she could take the risk of trusting the only man she'd ever loved.

And suddenly the choice was easy. She set her hand in his and felt the solid warm strength of his fingers close over hers. “I do love you.”

“And…” he nudged, smiling.

“I choose you, Nick,” she said, stepping into his embrace. “I choose love.”

E
PILOGUE

Two months later

For the first time in maybe
ever
, Castle's Salon was closed.

Temporarily, at least.

From downstairs came the crash of hammers, the whirring buzz of saws, and the shouts of every last member of the Candellano family. Tasha smiled, shook her head, and stepped into Mimi's old bedroom, closing the door behind her and muffling the noise from below.

Nick's brilliant idea of turning the Victorian into a posh day spa was becoming a reality. Soon they would be able to offer on-site masseuses, manicure/pedicure rooms, and luxury facials. There would be hot stone therapy, aromatherapy, and mud wraps. Castle's would be the best spa in Central California—if Tasha could get Nick to stop arguing with Jo Marconi about how to design the place.

“You'd love this, Mimi,” she whispered, and picked up the framed photo of her, Jonas, and Mimi that stood on the lace-covered dresser top. Staring down into the
woman's smiling eyes, Tasha smoothed her fingertip across the cold glass and said, “I just wish you were here to see it. To know that Jonas and I are all right. That everything turned out better than I ever hoped for.”

Her gaze landed on the four-carat diamond that Nick had placed on her finger just two weeks ago. It glittered and sparkled in a stray ray of sunlight spearing through the partially opened blinds. She was married. It was still a little hard to believe, but the ring twinkled at her whenever she doubted it. Not to mention, Tasha thought with a smile, having Nick remind her a couple of times each night.

So much had changed so quickly.

Jonas and she had moved into Nick's house by the lake and Nick was already planning for spring training at the high school. Jonas was the proud owner of a completely rambunctious puppy—the last of Carla's dog Abbey's litter. Ms. Walker at Social Services had been
very
nice ever since Nick's lawyer—Carla's husband—had set Jonas's adoption in motion.

And Castle's was about to be changed forever.

The rest of the house had been picked up, packed up, and moved, either to Nick's house or into storage. But Tasha had left Mimi's former bedroom for last.

Cardboard boxes were stacked in short brown towers all around the room. The rug was rolled and propped against the far wall, and the bed had already been taken apart and carried down to the waiting truck. All that remained was the dresser and the few framed photos on top of it.

“No sense putting it off any longer.” She pulled the top drawer open and was instantly surrounded by Mimi's scent, lifting from the potpourri she'd kept in
her clothes drawer. Tears stung Tasha's eyes as she took Mimi's things out and set them aside for Goodwill. Just touching them made the older woman feel close again. And despite the happiness filling Tasha's life these days, she still carried the ache of missing Mimi.

Methodically she cleaned out the first three drawers, and when she reached the last one, she was relieved to have it almost over. Then she pulled the drawer open and found it empty—but for two sealed envelopes, one with her name scrawled across the front and the other with Jonas's. Both were in Mimi's flowery, generous handwriting.

“Oh my God,” Tasha whispered, and reached for them with suddenly shaking hands. It was as if Mimi had suddenly reached out from beyond the grave to connect with Tasha one more time.

Cradling the twin envelopes in her open palms, Tasha stood up and carried them across the room to the window. Then she raised the blinds, letting in a flow of watery January sunlight. She set Jonas's sealed letter aside and carefully broke the seal on her own envelope before pulling free the single folded sheet of lilac-colored paper.

*   *   *

Nick watched his sister and Stevie planning the future spot for the Leaf and Bean's spa concession. Paul and Jackson were tearing out the kitchen cabinets, and Mama and Hank Marconi were laughing over old times while the Marconi girls got down to the business of overhauling the Victorian. Outside, Jonas, Reese, and Tina were playing with Abbey and her puppy, Goliath.

*   *   *

“In other words,” Nick muttered, headed for the
staircase just off the living room, “I can find everyone but my wife.” Chuckling, he took the stairs two at a time. “Wife. Hell, who'd have guessed it?”

He hit the top of the stairs and called, “Tasha?”

“In here—”

Her voice barely carried over the racket from downstairs, but it didn't matter. He let his instincts lead him to her. Opening the door at the end of the long hall, he stopped on the threshold. “What's wrong?” The tears in her eyes had surprised him, but not enough to keep him from her for long. He stalked across the cluttered room to grab her upper arms. “Are you okay?”

“I'm fine,” she said, and gave him a smile despite the tears tracking down her cheeks in a silent flood of emotion.

He wiped her tears away with his fingertips. “Sure. I'm convinced.”

“You don't understand. I found…” She glanced at a piece of notepaper in her hand, then held it out to him. “Just—” She swallowed hard, took a breath, and blurted, “Read this.”