Her Perfect Affair by Priscilla Oliveras (3)

Chapter Three

 

One. Little. Pink. Line.

Relief tsunamied through Rosa, swiping her legs out from under her. She sank onto the tile floor in her upstairs hall bathroom. Forehead resting on her bent knees, she sent up a prayer of thanks.

“Gracias a Dios,” she murmured.

The threat was gone.

Everything could go back to normal.

Her shoulders slackened on a soul-cleansing sigh. Turning her head, she peeked her eyes open, needing the confirmation of that one little—wait, two?

She frowned, then blinked rapidly to clear her vision.

Nothing changed. Two intersecting lines still formed a perfect plus sign.

Her stomach plummeted, threatening to bring up the Export Soda crackers she’d barely choked down earlier. The pregnancy test wand trembled in her hand as if laughing at her disbelief, its pink symbol ensnaring her gaze like a magic talisman.

“No puede ser verdad,” she murmured. Panic tightened her chest, stealing her breath. Dios no, no, no no. It couldn’t be true.

She gave the stick a quick, frantic shake.

A lo mejor, yeah, maybe, like a thermometer, she was supposed to force the fluid down to the bottom for it to work properly.

Only . . . her hand stilled . . . the mercury was in the thermometer, and you shook it before you stuck it in your mouth to get the reading. More importantly, you definitely didn’t pee on it.

Besides, she’d read the freaking packet insert from front to back. Three times. Could probably recite the information from memory. The most important point had been emblazoned on her brain. One line signifies negative. Two intersecting lines signify positive.

She hadn’t failed a test in her entire life! How could she possibly start now?

Tears stung her eyes. She blinked rapidly, trying to keep the tears at bay, but the idea that she and Jeremy—

Dios mío, Jeremy!

Just thinking about him sent anxiety rippling through her.

¡Esto no puede estar pasando! The denial ricocheted in her head. Unfortunately, repeating it over and over didn’t matter because this was happening!

The proof was right in front of her in the form of an obnoxious pink plus sign.

With a muffled curse, Rosa dropped her chin to her chest, resting her forehead on her knees.

It’d been nearly eight weeks since Yaz and Tomás’s wedding.

Eight weeks since she’d rushed Jeremy out of her hotel room that awkward morning after, his halting apology and stricken expression letting her know he regretted their intimacy. She’d cut him off before he could finish, ashamed that she’d practically thrown herself at him the night before. Her main thoughts had been on saving face, keeping her pride intact. Getting him out of there in case Lilí decided to show up after all.

That was the last thing she needed, her younger sister catching her in the most humiliating situation of her life. Especially after all the lectures she’d given Lilí about “proper behavior.”

Afterwards, Rosa had avoided his attempts to see her in the two weeks before he’d left for Japan.

It’d been fairly easy to use her commitments to school activities as an excuse.

Once he’d left though, being halfway across the globe hadn’t stopped Jeremy from trying to reach her. She’d screened her calls and replied to him via text with short, innocuous responses.

In reality, she’d simply wanted to avoid hearing another soul-crushing, awkward apology from him. She just couldn’t face the idea that their friendship might be irrevocably damaged because of their night together.

She’d spent the past two months praying that what she’d first considered to have been an incredible night hadn’t in actuality been an irreversible blunder on her part.

Ha! You couldn’t get more irreversible than this.

The thought of breaking the news to Jeremy, over the phone no less since he was in Japan, left her clammy with mortification.

And what about her sisters? Tía Dolores and Tío Pablo? Dios mío, what would they all say?

Not to mention her students and principal at Queen of Peace?

The slew of panicked thoughts hit her like a barrage of bullets.

Her thoughts flew back to the night of the wedding, when she’d decided to do something because it felt good. Maybe shake things up a little.

A hysterical giggle bubbled up in her throat, and Rosa clapped a hand over her mouth in dismay. The testing wand clattered to the floor. Her head spinning, she lay down in front of the bathtub, pressing her heated cheek against the cool tile.

Cálmate, cálmate.

She willed her pulse to calm, her thoughts to slow as she sucked in a deep breath.

The smell of the pine-scented cleaner she used to mop the floor filled her lungs, turning her stomach. Another wave of nausea crested as her gaze caught on the pregnancy test wand a few feet away. Mocking her.

Her eyelids fluttered closed, blocking out the offensive object.

Buying the damn kit had been a whim. She’d honestly thought she’d been battling the flu the past few weeks. If not for the random comment she’d overheard from a pregnant teacher in the break room the other day, she’d never have counted back the days.

Even then, she’d been so sure the results would be negative. For goodness sake, they had used protection. Still . . .

A baby.

She pressed a hand to her roiling stomach.

When she’d prayed for something of her own, a sense of belonging, a role in which she felt confident, this wasn’t really what she’d had in mind.

Dios no te da lo que no puedes manejar.

Mami’s favorite mantra drifted through Rosa’s jumbled thoughts. Her mom had usually been right. God didn’t give you what you couldn’t handle.

The words provided comfort, a chance for her to re-evaluate. This wasn’t the end of the world. Actually, it was the beginning of something new.

As much as Rosa hated change, it was coming at her now. Big time.

Years ago, Mami’s death had forced her to learn how to deal with the ramifications of her choices. Like then and every day since, Rosa had been determined to make things right. This time, it couldn’t be any different.

First, she needed to draft a to-do list. At the top, as scary as it might be, was figuring out how to let Jeremy and her sisters know.

Pushing herself to her feet on shaky legs, Rosa snatched up all evidence of the test, then shoved it back into the plastic drugstore bag. She’d have to dispose of it on her way to work tomorrow. Lilí was still away at school and wouldn’t be home until next week for Thanksgiving, but who knew when Yazmine might drop by the house. No need to leave proof lying around before she was ready to share her secret with her sisters.

That wouldn’t happen until she’d spoken with Jeremy. He deserved to know first.

Her cell phone vibrated on the bathroom’s granite counter, and Rosa jerked in surprise. Warily, she reached for it.

Jeremy Taylor flashed on the screen.

She froze, her finger hovering over the green icon that would answer the call.

Her insides quivered, and she said a quick prayer before tapping the screen.

Ready or not, she was much closer than she’d anticipated to checking off item number one on her to-do list.

* * *

Jeremy fiddled with the wineglasses on the breakfast bar separating his kitchen from the dining area in his condo. Two glasses for the bottle of pinot noir beside them, two different ones for the Riesling chilling in the fridge. His gaze strayed to the coffee mugs next to the fresh pot he’d brewed. Not sure what Rosa would prefer, he’d tried covering his bases.

After weeks of only communicating via brief text messages, the fact that she’d finally picked up his call was a step in the right direction.

She had turned down his dinner invitation—no surprise—but asked instead if she could stop by his new place—huge surprise.

Before calling he had reminded himself to keep things casual, go back to his previous game plan and take baby steps with her. She wasn’t one to be pushed or move too fast when it came to letting people get close. Well, except for the night of Yazmine and Tomás’s wedding.

That had been an amazing night he would never forget.

Unfortunately, it had been followed by a train wreck of a morning after he hated remembering.

He winced every time he pictured the mortification on Rosa’s face when she woke up to find him beside her. The guilt filling her expressive eyes had him fumbling to find the right words to ease her obvious remorse. Emphasis on the fumbling.

Damn, he’d never been given the heave-ho as fast. When that woman set her mind to something, like shoving him out her hotel room door, there was no stopping her.

His doorbell chimed, bringing him back to the present and signaling Rosa’s arrival. Anticipation at seeing her again after nearly two months hurried his steps into the foyer.

Out of habit, he checked the door’s peephole, knowing full well Bill Ryan and his team at the security desk wouldn’t let anyone through without prior approval, or a quick phone call requesting clearance if Jeremy hadn’t alerted them of a visitor. Rosa’s image appeared oddly misshapen through the tiny lens, but no way could he miss the telltale speck of white teeth as she worried her lower lip.

Looked like he wasn’t the only one who was nervous.

He quickly turned the bolt and swung the door open.

“Hey, you! It’s good to see you,” he greeted her, striving for a laid-back tone.

Her lips curved in a hesitant smile, but her brown eyes flashed with unease.

Jeremy’s apprehension hitched up a notch.

“Hi. Um, thanks for letting me come over.”

If the slight tremor in her voice hadn’t given away her discomfort, the fact that her fingers twisted her leather purse strap in a death grip certainly did.

Still, he soaked in the sight of her, surprised by the relief enveloping him now that she was here.

Her mid-thigh-length black winter coat hung open, revealing black, slim-fitting slacks and an emerald sweater. Her dark hair fell in loose waves to her shoulders, framing a face that, as he looked more closely, seemed a little pale. Definitely thinner. Even so, to him, she was beautiful.

Knowing her, she’d been focused on starting off her first year at Queen of Peace on the right foot and was working long hours. Not taking care of herself, like she’d been prone to do in her last semester at school.

“Of course, I’d let you come over,” he answered. “You’re welcome anytime. I’m glad you suggested meeting here. Come in.” He stepped aside so she could enter. “Here, let me.”

He reached to take her coat, his hand inadvertently catching hers. Rosa pulled back, her gaze sliding away.

Disappointment at her reticence dampened his pleasure over finally seeing her.

Apparently, despite all those months of friendship and sharing private confidences that had led him to think she might be ready to move their relationship to a deeper level, they were now back to square one. Maybe even worse, based on the way her gaze bounced around to every corner of the foyer like she couldn’t bring herself to make eye contact with him. Rosa seemed less comfortable with him today than when they’d first met.

Frustrated, but not wanting her to notice, Jeremy moved to hang Rosa’s jacket in the foyer closet.

Patience. He got paid well for his problem-solving and troubleshooting skills. Why not put them to good use now?

That awkward morning after had turned into an awkward two months later. He’d have to tiptoe carefully through this minefield if he wanted to get them to the other side together. Which he did.

“Make yourself at home.” He gestured toward the combination living-dining room. “I think I’m finally settled in. Yaz has stopped by a couple of times with Tomás and Maria. Lilí crashed here with a friend over Columbus Day weekend when I was gone, but I think this is your first time seeing the place since I moved in, right?”

He knew it was, despite his attempts to get together with her, especially before he’d left for Japan.

Over the summer, there’d been several casual invites to the sisters as a whole. Each time one or the other had a conflict.

After his night with Rosa, he’d left her a voice message, a personal invite to join him here for a drink before heading to the ballet when his dad had given Jeremy their family box seats. A few days later, he’d sent a text asking if she was open for dinner and a foreign film at one of the smaller cinemas in the city. She’d declined each invite via polite texts citing “previous plans.”

He’d spent the past six weeks in Japan, thinking about her back home. Wishing like hell she’d answer her phone so he could hear her voice.

Yesterday, as soon as he’d landed at O’Hare, she’d been the first person he called. Nearly dropping his phone in surprise when she answered.

As he reached for a coat hanger, he noticed Rosa moving down the hallway into his open living area. Now that she was finally here, he considered his condo through her eyes.

Compared to the Fernandez home with its rich colors, touches of their Puerto Rican culture, and numerous family pictures, the modern black and cream décor his mom’s interior decorator had gone with here might seem a bit cold and bland. With his move so rushed, he’d mostly gone with her recommendations. The space itself is what had appealed to him. He liked the clean lines and open feel to the rooms, but he especially loved the—

“Oh, wow!”

Rosa’s cry of surprise was right on cue. She must have discovered his balcony view of Lake Michigan. Everyone claimed it was the best selling point.

Jeremy closed the foyer closet door and headed her way, thinking he’d find Rosa at the wide glass balcony doors. Instead, she stood in front of his small but worthy book collection next to the fireplace along the far right wall.

Of course. He should have known the lake view didn’t stand a chance in Rosa’s estimation.

“May I?” she asked, pointing to the row of first-edition novels he’d amassed during his travels, starting with his first study abroad trip in college. The barely contained delight on her face relaxed his discomfort over whether or not she’d like his place. Whether or not he’d be able to convince her to visit him again.

This was the Rosa he knew. The one he missed. Sincere and smart. Charmed by the little pleasures in life.

“By all means”—he waved an arm to encompass the shelves, happy to oblige her—“enjoy.”

She grinned like a little girl standing at the gates of Disney World as they opened. He remembered her telling him over coffee one afternoon that part of the appeal of books was how they let her escape from her world for a bit when needed. Took her to places beyond her imagination.

Kind of how he’d describe their night together.

Carefully, Rosa tugged out his leather-bound copy of The Adventures of Tom Sawyer, definitely a finder’s coup for him. He watched her gently open the book, her fingers caressing the aged pages.

A memory flashed like a bolt of lightning, powerful and bright. Her fingers digging into the muscles along his back, pulling him closer, her breath warm on his neck as she cried out in passion.

“Jeremy, these are amazing.” Rosa slid the book back into its place on the shelf, then ran a hand along the spines of a few other classics. “Que maravilla.”

He may not know Spanish too well, but he figured out that word pretty easily. If you asked him, he’d say she was pretty marvelous.

He should have known that his mini library would be the trick with Rosa. Once, when they’d been talking about their favorite classic novels, he had mentioned his collection, but hadn’t thought to remind her about it once he’d gotten moved in. That might have lured her to come over sooner.

As it was, whatever reason had led her to want to stop by today, he could only be grateful for it.

“Peruse to your heart’s content,” he said. “My personal library is yours. May I pour you a glass of wine while you’re browsing?”

“Oh, uh, n-no thanks.” A panicked expression flit across her face before she glanced back at the bookshelf, her hand stopping near his copy of The Old Man and the Sea. “I shouldn’t, um, I’m driving.”

“Cup of coffee?”

She gulped, and he’d swear her face turned a slight shade of green. “I’m fine, thanks.”

“Are you sure?”

She paused, frown lines marring her brow. “Maybe a glass of water, if you don’t mind?”

Her joy from moments ago had dimmed considerably. Something, he wasn’t sure what, had drawn her back into her reserved shell.

“No problem,” he answered, striving to keep his voice light. Free of his growing concern. “I’ll be right back.”

He strode to the kitchen, feeling like, frankly, he could use a glass of pinot noir himself. Instead, he settled for water along with her.

“Do you mind if I use the bathroom?” Rosa called softly.

“Not at all. It’s the first door on the right down the hallway.”

“Thanks.”

Moments later, he heard the door close behind her. His shoulders relaxed, but the tension between them made him antsy.

Man, it felt like he and Rosa were tiptoeing around a purple-striped elephant sprawled on his designer couch. Both afraid to poke it, fearing the potential fallout.

It didn’t seem like Rosa was going to broach the topic of their night together. He probably should have known better than to think his normally reserved, if sometimes surprising librarian would do so.

That left it up to him.

They had to find a way to move forward, whether as friends or, even better, as two adults willing to explore where the chemistry between them might lead. Now that the Japan project had been put on hold and he was back home indefinitely, he hoped to spend more time with her.

She couldn’t leave without them trying to come to some sort of consensus on where they stood with each other.

God forbid their night together made it uncomfortable for him to spend time with her, or her family. Being able to get away from the hoopla and circus-like atmosphere that tended to envelop his family, knowing there was a place close by where the people—one in particular—cared more about him as a person than the wallet he carried in his back pocket . . . he didn’t want to lose that simply because he and Rosa had leapt when maybe they should have taken a mini step.

He loved his family, but their expectations weighed heavily on him. Hanging with the Fernandez sisters at their house, even just a short forty-five-minute drive away from downtown Chicago, felt like an entirely different world—in a good way.

He couldn’t lose that. Couldn’t lose the easy friendship he and Rosa shared. He refused to lose her.

Their waters in hand, Jeremy strode back to the living room, where he placed her drink on the glass coffee table. Easing down onto the black and grey patterned sofa to wait, he considered the right way to start the conversation without scaring her off.

Moments later, Rosa emerged from the bathroom. She’d pulled her hair into a loose ponytail low on her nape. Her face glistened, her skin even paler than when she’d first arrived.

Worry had him rising to his feet. “Are you feeling okay?”

She patted the back of her neck with a tissue, then wiped her brow before replying with a small nod.

“Are you sure? You don’t look so good.” He cringed. Okay, that had not come out right. “I mean, you—”

“I’m pregnant.”

Every molecule, every sensation, every brain function inside Jeremy froze.

For several moments, he lost all ability to think or react. Then his water glass slipped from his fingers, hit the tile floor, and shattered.

Rosa gasped, her brown eyes wide with shock. Seconds later, abject despair swooped over her face before she turned, racing for the front door.

“Wait!” He ran to catch up with her in the foyer, his hand snagging the crook of her arm. “Rosa, hold on a minute!”

“I—I shouldn’t have-shouldn’t have come.” She pulled out of his grasp, shaking her head back and forth so hard her hair tie slipped off, leaving her loose curls undulating around her shoulders. Tears shimmered in her eyes, but determination hardened her jaw. “I wasn’t ready. And I don’t think—I don’t belong here.”

What? Fear squeezed his chest at her words.

As night fell and the city lights twinkled on, she was the one person he imagined sharing a glass of wine with out on the balcony. It was her he thought about when he sat alone on his couch, watching one of her favorite old black-and-white classic films.

Of course she belonged here.

He dragged a hand through his hair, grasping for a way to make sense of everything, for some way to reach her. “You can’t—”

“I have to go.”

Panic mushroomed inside him. “Rosa, you cannot blurt out news like this and then take off.”

She flinched at his gruff tone.

“Just . . .” Jeremy held his hands out in supplication. “Just give me a minute to process this. Please.”

His entreaty came out on a ragged rush of jumbled emotions, but it seemed to do the trick because Rosa sagged back against the door rather than opening it.

A tense silence filled the foyer for several seconds.

“I am so sorry,” she finally whispered.

“You don’t have to apologize.”

She shook her head, misery stamping her pale face.

His chest tightened, his own uncertainty and the need to soothe her consuming him. God, what he wouldn’t give right now to wrap his arms around her and promise that everything would be okay. But he didn’t know that for sure. Worse, she probably wouldn’t even welcome his embrace.

“I had a plan,” she continued. “I did, really. I practiced what to say a million different ways on the drive over. Not a single one was like that.” She jabbed a hand toward his living room as if their disastrous scene from moments ago was still pictured there.

“Believe me, that is not how I envisioned telling you. And—and I know it’s the last . . .” Her voice shook as it trailed off. Her dark eyes glistened, her fingers nervously fiddling with the gold crucifix on her necklace. “. . . the last thing you wanted to hear. Just like, just like—”

Two tears streaked down her cheeks to drip off her quivering chin. “Just like sleeping with me was probably the last thing you thought about doing that night.”

“Hold on now. Don’t go putting words in my mouth.” He took a step closer, desperate to touch her, to show her how wrong she was about him.

She shrank back against the door and his frustration skyrocketed.

“This was a mistake. I should go,” she repeated.

Sparks of anger shot through him. “No, you shouldn’t.”

Wariness flared in her brown eyes.

He clamped his mouth shut, annoyed with his inability—again!—to find the right words to calm her. Like the morning after Yaz’s wedding. Only, this time, Rosa was intent on walking out the door herself.

He couldn’t let her. Not now. Not knowing that she was carrying his baby.

Because yeah, there was no doubt in his mind that this child was his.

His only doubt at the moment involved whether he could convince her to stay. Or how exactly to proceed from here.

Rosa was having his baby. The words filtered through his shock-fogged brain.

Suddenly, like someone jerking open the curtains and allowing the morning sunshine to fill a darkened room, Jeremy understood what this meant. What he needed to do.

“Come on, let’s go back and sit down.” Dazed but certain, he made a conscious effort to keep his voice level and calm as he held out his hand, willing her to take it. “We need to talk about this.”

Rosa stared at him uncertainly. Her gaze darted from his proffered hand to his eyes. When she started worrying her bottom lip, the pressure in his chest eased the slightest bit.

That was a good sign. At least it meant she was considering his plea. No longer ready to race out the door.

Because, no matter what, walking away was not an option for him. If Rosa gave birth to his child, whether she wanted him to or not, he’d be a part of that kid’s life. Maybe he carried Roger Wilson’s deadbeat father genes; there was nothing Jeremy could do about that. But he’d been raised by Sherman Taylor since the age of six. Adopted by Sherman at the age of seven when he had married Jeremy’s mom. The man was a great father figure and role model.

Sure, when Jeremy’s loser dad had come around trying to extort money by threatening to sell his sordid tale to the tabloids, Jeremy may have gotten a little spooked. What kid wouldn’t if you were the spitting image of a scumbag like Roger. Jeremy had heard the maid and cook gossiping about his resemblance. Still, looks could be deceiving, and blood alone did not make a father.

“I didn’t come here expecting anything from you,” Rosa said, interrupting his thoughts. Her voice trembled, but she held her head high, her shoulders proud. “I can handle this on my own.”

Her spurt of gumption in the midst of what he knew had to be a scary situation for her filled him with admiration.

As shell-shocked as he was right now, he could only imagine how Rosa, demure and devout, must be reeling.

“I’m sure you didn’t. Expect anything, I mean,” he explained when her expression crinkled with confusion. “You’re probably the least conniving person I know, Rosa. That’s part of your charm.”

She blushed, bringing a deep pink to her otherwise chalky complexion.

Now he realized the cause of her pallor, the reason why she’d refused his offer of wine and coffee earlier. She’d already begun considering the needs of their child.

Their child.

The phrase brought anxious anticipation whipping through him at tornado speed.

He was going to be a father.

Rosa was going to be a mother.

Together, they had created a bond between them that would never be broken. Not if he had anything to say about it.

Unlike Roger Wilson, Jeremy was man enough to respect the mother of his child, refusing to make her feel alone or defenseless.

Instead, he’d be the kind of father Sherman Taylor would be proud of. The kind of man who brought honor to the Taylor name by doing the right thing. And that meant . . .

“I think we should get married,” he announced.

Rosa’s head reared back, thumping against the front door behind her. Her arms went slack at her sides. Her purse dropped onto the floor, something inside hitting the tile with a clank.

That weird shade of green slowly crept into her face again before she slapped a hand over her mouth, pushed past him, and ran down the hall.

Seconds later, he heard her vomiting in the bathroom.