“I was never much of a gambler, because the odds are usually against you.” He shook his head, still having a hard time believing that he had put them in this position. “I must apologize to you. For losing control of myself.”
“Don’t,” she said, meeting his eyes. “Don’t you dare apologize. I wanted this. I wanted you. I’m glad you lost control, Rico, and if I am pregnant…we’ll deal with the situation if it presents itself.”
Deal with it.
He didn’t know exactly what she meant by that, but he knew very well what would happen if she was pregnant with his child. They would stay married. The divorce he’d promised her would never happen.
And that would mean he would have to find a way to live with the still-rich memories of her betrayal. His chest tightened as if iron bands were wrapped around his body, squeezing mercilessly.
How could he spend his life with a woman he couldn’t trust? Would he ask himself every day if today was the day she would bolt?
Shaking his head, he wrapped his arms around his wife and wondered if passion would be enough to save a marriage born in deception.
* * *
A few days later Teresa and Rico went into the village to shop for gifts for Melinda and her new son.
The day was warm, the wind was soft and two of the small launches used to transport guests from St. Thomas were docked at the harbor.
Tesoro village looked, Teresa thought, like a movie set. It was too perfect to be real. The street was narrow and lined on either side by brightly painted shops. From pastels to jewel tones, each building was as different as the wares it offered.
There was a bakery, and the scent of cinnamon wafted through its open door to tempt pedestrians. There were souvenir shops, a chocolatier that Teresa really wanted to visit, and every other kind of shop you could imagine, all catering to the wealthy tourists who came to the island to vacation. At the end of the winding street there was a small grocery store that mostly served the locals and there was a spectacular view of the ocean from every point on the tidy street. The shops huddled close to the freshly swept sidewalks. Windows gleamed, reflecting the bright light of the sun, and terra-cotta pots positioned outside the tidy stores held trailing bouquets of brightly colored flowers.
There was so much to see, Teresa swung her head from side to side in an attempt to miss nothing. “It’s so pretty,” she said, with a glance up at Rico, walking beside her. “Like a postcard.”
“That’s been said,” he agreed. “In fact, Sean and I hired photographers to take photos of this street at different angles and at different times of the year. Then Walter picked the ones he liked and we had postcards made to be sold in all of the shops. Proceeds go directly to the island, and the citizens here vote on how the money’s spent.”
She just stared at him for a moment, letting the surprise she felt show on her features. “In Mexico you stayed out of local politics. Said you only wanted to run your hotel. You weren’t interested in joining committees or getting involved with the other hoteliers or the tourist industry.”
He shrugged and shifted his gaze to pass over the main street, now crowded with a few of the tourists staying at his hotel. “Everything changes.”
She sighed, staring up at his profile. “Not everything,” she murmured, knowing that her feelings for him would never change. Of course, she also knew that Rico wouldn’t believe her even if she was foolish enough to admit to still loving him. So she kept that piece of information to herself.