TheTemptationNotJustifiedAReFinal (17 page)

“What
are you doing here?” Rebekah asked.

The
cold stare of his eyes lanced through her. “Is that any way to greet a man you
haven’t seen in almost ten years?”

Of
course not. If her beating heart had anything to say about it, he would have
received a much warmer greeting. “You came here unannounced, uninvited to my
house. Something tells me this isn’t a social call.”

“I
came because I had something I needed to tell you—in person,” he said. “I
didn’t want to tell you over the phone. I’m on my way to New York and decided
to stop over in Atlanta to see you.”

“You
could’ve called first, instead of popping up unannounced. As you pointed out, it
has been almost ten years.”

His
lips thinned in irritation. “For the record, once I tracked you down, I did
call, but you don’t have voicemail, so I couldn’t leave a message. Since I
couldn’t get in touch with you, I figured it was easier to show up.”

Rebekah
could have kicked herself. She had ordered the VOIP phone service over a week
ago, but since she was a technophobe, she had delayed setting up the voicemail.

“I
have caller I.D. I never saw—”

“My
number is private. You wouldn’t
see
anything.”

Rebekah
swallowed. Since he’d seen Ricardo, she could understand his antagonism, but
she had reasons of her own to feel antagonistic toward him. “What’s so
important you had to tell me in person?”

“Are
we going to have this conversation in the middle of your foyer? Is your
southern hospitality only reserved for people you’re expecting?”

Without
waiting for a response, he brushed past her toward the kitchen, and she caught
a whiff of an unfamiliar cologne. She followed him on unsteady legs, conscious
of the fact she looked as bad as he did good. While he was dressed comfortably
in a fine linen shirt and crisply pressed dark slacks, she was self-conscious
about her unattractive gardening attire and pink cotton headscarf. She wasn’t
wearing a stitch of makeup, and she was certain she must smell sweaty after
working in the yard.

In
the kitchen, Rafael leaned against the counter, staring at her as she leaned
against the counter across the room. His arms hung loosely at his sides, but
she could sense the leashed tension in him.

“Well?”
she said to break the uneasy silence.

She
was never good at remaining quiet, and he was the complete opposite. He was the
quintessential strong, silent type.

“Is
he mine?”

She
hadn’t expected him to ask that question first, but it was inevitable. “Yes.”

Rafael’s
hands clenched into fists, and he pushed away from the counter and took two
long strides toward her. Rebekah brought her hands up in a defensive motion,
drawing in a sharp breath. His steps came to an abrupt halt.

“I
wasn’t going to hit you,” he rasped.

“You’re
not exactly known for your long fuse.” Her rapid heartbeat began to slow down.

“I
would never hit a woman, no matter how much she infuriates me.” His cold, angry
eyes stared into hers. “How could you do that?” he demanded in a rough voice.
“How could you keep him a secret from me?”

Now
came the hard part—the inadequate explanation she couldn’t even justify to
herself. “I did try to contact you, but you were always traveling. It was
impossible to get in touch with you.”

“You
didn’t try hard enough.” He found her guilty and delivered a cutting
indictment. His eyes were filled with accusation. He swiveled on his heel and
stalked over to the door. He stared out the window at the backyard, his
shoulders rigid and his neck muscles taut. “
Dios
, Rebekah, how could you
not tell me?”

The
beseeching sound of his voice tore at her conscience. There was nothing she
could say to make what she had done acceptable. She
had
tried to contact
him, but he was right. She hadn’t tried hard enough. They were separated and on
their way to divorce when she’d found out about her pregnancy.

She
had been back in Atlanta at her parents’ house, and he had already moved to
California with Marty Luger. Marty had managed Rafael’s career from the time he
discovered him at a local fight club in Las Vegas. They had moved there after
she graduated from high school, and they got married in a small chapel off the
strip.

At
first, it seemed the best decision was to remain quiet. His life on the road
had concerned her, and his career was taking off. With her youthful dreams
crushed under reality’s ruthless boot, she had felt like an extra appendage.
She was certain the last thing he wanted was to be saddled with a child, and
she certainly hadn’t wanted him to think she was using their son to make claims
on his impending fortune.

“I
was protecting him.”

“From
his own father?” Rafael grated.

“Yes!
I didn’t want him exposed to your lifestyle—the drugs, the women, the drinking,
and the brutality of that thing you call a sport.”

“It
doesn’t excuse what you did.” His eyes lowered to her belly. “You robbed me of
the chance of watching your body swell with my child and robbed me of the first
years of his life.”

His
bitter words were like lashes across her conscience. “I was nineteen. I didn’t
know what to do at the time. It was the wrong decision, I know, but I did what
I thought was best.”

“Is
that all you can come up with?”

“It’s
the truth, Rafe.”

His
gaze swept her face. “What about later? What about when you turned twenty-one?
Or twenty-two? Or even now, at twenty-eight? When exactly did you decide it was
the wrong decision? When I walked through the door just now and saw him
standing there, looking so much like me it’s a wonder he didn’t figure it out
himself?”

“Fine!”
She pushed away from the counter to face him squarely, trying to quell the
trembling in her stomach. “What I did was wrong. But let’s get one thing
straight, if you had been the husband you were supposed to be—if you hadn’t
done what you did—I wouldn’t have hesitated to tell you about Ricardo, and you
would have been by my side the entire time, instead of out in California”—she
waved her hand in a sweeping gesture—“sleeping with every woman who tossed a
smile your way.”

Sickening
thoughts of him with other women raced through her mind. How many had warmed
his bed over the years? Had they willingly done the things she wouldn’t?

His
face hardened and angry color tinged the light caramel of his cheeks. “It
didn’t take you long to bring that up. You couldn’t wait to throw it in my
face, could you?”

Rebekah
knew her comment was a low blow, but she couldn’t stop herself. Before the
flash of anger, she saw the hurt in his eyes. She pushed aside the pang of
guilt. She was right to feel angry, and she wouldn’t feel guilty about it.

“You
know what you did.” The painful burning in her throat indicated the hurt from
his betrayal hadn’t disappeared. It had only lain dormant, and seeing him again
brought it back to life—almost as fresh and new as the day he’d broken her
heart and rendered their marriage vows void and useless.

“Yes,
I know what I did,” he agreed tersely, “and now I know what you did.”

The
air was thick with the animosity that flared between them. Rebekah took a deep,
shaky breath. “Throwing accusations around isn’t going to get us anywhere.”

“No,
it isn’t,” Rafael conceded. He eyed her with a frown. “We need to decide what
we’re going to do about Ricardo.”

Her
ears perked up. “What do you mean ‘what we’re going to do about Ricardo?’”

“What
do you think I mean? He’s mine.”

“He
isn’t a possession, Rafe, like one of your fancy cars or your championship
belt. He’s a person.”

His
dark eyes flashed angrily down at her. “You think I don’t know that? But he is
my
son
, and I intend to be a part of his life from now on. First, we need to
tell him right away that I’m his father. Then, I want him to come spend time
with me in California. I have no idea what he believes, but you’ll make sure he
understands I
did not
desert him all these years.”

His
dictatorial tone rubbed Rebekah the wrong way, but she bit back her angry
retort. Under the circumstances, it would be an overreaction, but she wasn’t
far from giving him a piece of her mind.

“All
right,” she said. “I’ll have a talk with him later.”

A
muscle in his jaw tightened. “You’ll have a talk with him now, while I’m here.
You’re no longer a single parent. We’ll do this together. ”

“Do
you have to talk to me like that?” she snapped.

“Only
if you fight me on this. Is that what you intend to do?”

“No.
Of course not. I’m worried about how this will affect him. We’re about to dump
a lot on a kid who, for eight years, has never had a father. Now, all of a
sudden, here you are, bigger than life. I don’t even know how he knows who you
are. You retired almost two years ago, and I certainly never allowed him to
watch wrestling.”

It
was possible Ricardo had seen the replayed matches on television without her
permission. It could even be from the occasional commercials Rafael shot. Since
retiring from wrestling, he endorsed a variety of products. In addition, he’d
licensed his name on a chain of gyms on the west coast.

“He’s
a boy,” Rafael said. “When I was his age, I was curious about fighting. He
could have found out about me—my persona—from one of his friends at school.
It’s natural for boys to be into that kind of thing.”

Rebekah
knew he was right, but she had no interest in fighting and tried to limit her
young son’s exposure to violence. The idea of co-parenting with Rafael was
daunting, and she had no idea what kind of parent he would be. He deserved the
opportunity to play that role, but she’d had Ricardo to herself for eight
years. She would have to relinquish any hard feelings she harbored toward
Rafael and allow him to participate in all aspects of his son’s life. Her only
fear was that their parenting styles would be so different he would undo
everything she’d taught their son.

“About
California,” she began, “what did you have in mind?”

“He
could come spend the summer with me in L.A.”

“I
don’t know, Rafe. The entire summer is a bit much. Let’s take it one step at a
time, okay? We’ll see how he handles finding out you’re his father, and then
we’ll go from there.”

“Rebekah,
I’m asking for one summer.” The underlying accusation being she had robbed him
of eight years.

A
tug of war for Ricardo’s time had already begun. He didn’t even consider they
may already have plans. “I understand, but I was thinking about taking him to
St. Kitts to see relatives this summer. I think it would be better if we put
off this conversation until later.”

St.
Kitts was a small island nation in the Caribbean where her mother was from. As
children, she, Samirah, and their older brother, Adam, spent their summers
there. As the years passed, they visited less frequently, but she wanted her
son to be aware of his Caribbean roots. The last time he visited was at the age
of five, and he hardly remembered his time there.

“All
right,” Rafael agreed. Rebekah eyed him suspiciously. That was almost too easy.
“Are you ready?”

Nodding,
Rebekah resigned herself to what was to take place. There was no point in a
delay. That didn’t keep the bundle of knots in her stomach from reappearing,
and she wondered how she would make it through the difficult explanation
without looking like a villain.

As
they neared the staircase, she turned to Rafael. “Wasn’t there something you
said you needed to tell me?” she asked.

Rafael
looked intently at her, as if trying to gauge how to say what he was holding.
“As a matter of fact, there is.”

“Well,
what is it?”

“I
came here to tell you when we signed the divorce papers nine years ago, there
was a problem at the courthouse. Our papers were never filed. Legally, you’re
still my wife.”

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