“Okay.” Julianne wasn’t successful in hiding the reluctance in her voice. But to her credit, she brooked no argument. “As soon as Dr. Ling says Owen can be released, we’ll go to your home.”
Will could only imagine what a homecoming it would be. The locals didn’t have a problem sucking up to him now that he was a famous, rich football player. But he could already hear the whispers once he arrived with his bastard son and his baby mama in tow. They’d say he’d turned out just as they expected, except, perhaps, wealthier. He suppressed a shudder just thinking about his childhood spent longing for a normal family dynamic of two parents who were married to each other.
Hell, he wondered, does that dynamic even exist anymore?
Long ago, he’d made a promise to himself that any child of his would have that one thing he wanted most of all: legitimacy. Despite his best efforts, he’d failed his son. Not that it was too late. He rubbed a hand over his forehead, trying to scrub that ridiculous thought from his mind as he glanced over at the woman who’d borne him a son. Julianne was babbling on about all the things they’d need for the baby, her previous trepidation suddenly diminished by thoughts of shopping. In that respect, she was just like any other woman. He held a hand up to quiet her. “Just give me a list. I’ll have it taken care of before we get there.”
Her eyes narrowed and she bit her lip to stop herself from complaining. “Fine,” she said. “I assume we’ll work out a long-term agreement when we get there?”
“You already agreed to do whatever I want.” He leaned the chair back on its back legs and tried to remind himself not to flirt with her. She was the enemy. Instead, he forced his best William the Conqueror stare on his face. It worked to intimidate rookies all the time.
A flush spread over her cheeks. “Only with regard to Owen.”
“Since Owen is the only one I care about, we shouldn’t have a problem.” Something flashed in her eyes before she reined it in. It was killing her that he had the upper hand, but she didn’t dare challenge him.
Suddenly her face lit up as she sprang from her chair. “Nicky!” she cried. Will felt his jewels shrivel up at the sound. The last time she’d cried out that name, he’d been buried deep inside her on a hotel room bed.
Six
Julianne breathed in the familiar scent of Nicholas DiMarco as she hugged him tightly. “I knew you’d come,” she whispered against his neck. His hands gently patted her back. Nice hands. Normal hands. Nothing like the oversized mitts Will was always holding up in front of her face.
Nicky gently gripped her shoulders and took a step back. “Of course I came, Jules. I had to make sure my best girl and her baby were okay. Carly shared the wonderful news that Owen is getting better by the hour. All of our prayers have been answered.”
She looked over Nicky’s shoulder at Carly, who was giving Will another of those empathetic shrugs. The gesture annoyed her. Carly never understood Julianne’s relationship with Nicky. Her best friend couldn’t seem to grasp that Nicky was more than a childhood crush—in spite of any lasting sexual fantasies. Sure, Julianne had spent much of her life dreaming about Nicky as her soul mate, but she was well aware that his devotion lay elsewhere. That’s what made him so safe.
Brushing her hands over his shoulders, Julianne adjusted the clerical collar on his starched black shirt. “Oh, Nicky, it’s so wonderful! My baby is going to be okay!”
Will cleared his throat loudly behind her. Wincing, she grabbed Nicky’s hand and turned to face him. The inscrutable behemoth linebacker from yesterday was back, looking none too happy that she’d referred to Owen as her baby. “Nicky, this is Will Connelly . . . Owen’s father.” The humiliation of the situation seemed to be choking her, and she struggled with the introduction she’d never envisioned making. “Will, this is Nicky. Father Nicholas DiMarco, Vatican Emissary to the Holy See.”
Nicky dropped her hand to reach for Will’s. She held her breath as Will’s hand seemed to swallow the priest’s more gentle one, nearly crushing it in his grip. “We’re all so glad you’re finally in the picture, Will.”
Julianne tried not to cringe. Years of diplomatic training and that was what came out of Nicky’s mouth? She could feel Will’s stare piercing through her, but she didn’t dare look at him. Fear and shame that Will might say something about that night kept her eyes focused on the fountain in the center of the courtyard. Anywhere but on either man’s face. “I would’ve liked to have been part of the picture much sooner, Father, but your best girl seemed to have other ideas.” The tone of his voice indicated that whatever accord they’d reached a few minutes ago might be slipping away, and Julianne felt helpless to stop it. He had every right to be angry and, once again, guilt churned through her stomach.