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Rafe stayed at the lab after all his colleagues left for the day, intent on finishing one more analysis before heading home to Natalie. The physicians and patients he worked with still deserved his total focus, even if he no longer needed his career to fill his lonely, solitary existence.
Because he wasn't lonely anymore. Was only beginning to realize how lonely he had been.
He dreaded the day she would leave with growing despair.
It was his turn to cook, so he picked up butter chicken with naan at an Indian restaurant she had introduced him to. He hadn't realized how regimented and structured he'd been until she'd blazed into his life. That was yet another lock she'd opened in his world.
He carried the food into the house, the scents of curry and jasmine rice reminding him he hadn't eaten lunch that day. Placing the containers in the oven but not turning it on, he folded the paper bag they'd come in with precise motions and tucked it into the appropriate drawer.
It was all busy work to keep him from racing up the stairs to see Natalie, an impulse he'd thought would weaken with familiarity, but only continued to grow.
His steps measured but his heart beating faster in anticipation, he found her exactly where he knew she'd be—the archive room.
Instead of working at her laptop or digging through a file box, though, she was standing by the window, her face in profile as she looked outside. His lab was in the basement of the hospital, so he'd missed what his weather app declared had been a beautiful day. It was still very pleasant out. Maybe they'd have time for a walk in the evening dusk after dinner.
She turned away from the view. Her low-voltage smile was kilowatts away from her usual effusive greeting. A trickle of unease slithered into his contentment. “Hello. Something going on outside?”
She shook her head. “No.”
Her quiet denial did nothing to ease his growing dread. Maybe if he ignored it... “I went to Dana Mandi. Dinner is keeping warm in the oven. Want a glass of wine first?”
She regarded him steadily and sweat sprang out on his palms. This was it. She was leaving him. He searched his mind for what he'd done to cause it now, today. He could think of only one thing.
Her next words confirmed his guess.
“I found out what you've been hiding.” Natalie approached, stepping warily as if expecting him to burst into violence, and stopped next to the hard wooden chair he’d brought up weeks ago. “I know what your mother did.”
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COLOUR DRAINED FROM Rafe's face, his harsh features stark and cold under his pale skin. He straightened his already straight spine and his hands clenched and unclenched at his sides, but he made no sound. His gaze was fierce and unapologetic...and wounded.
Why should he be feeling hurt? She was the one who had been lied to.
Natalie gripped the smooth, arched wood on the back of Rafe's chair with both hands, taking solace in its support, and asked the question burning in her mind. “How long have you known?” Maybe he'd only discovered the scandal recently and it hadn't been the reason behind his initial rejection of the biography project. At least then he wouldn't have been lying to her from the very beginning.
His nostrils flared and his lips moved stiffly as he answered. “Otto mentioned his idea for a biography at Christmas. I’d already been going through Mother’s archives and agreed it was an excellent idea. I started paying closer attention to what I was reading, made it a goal to go through them more quickly. I figured it out in mid-January.”
The fragile hope she cupped like an eggshell in her palm crumbled into powder. “That's why you didn't want me to look at any boxes until you'd gone through them.”
“Yes.”
“Did you know before you started digging? Were you looking for anything in particular?”
“No.” The denial was sharp and pointed, but a dusting of bewilderment revealed deeper feelings.
Of course he hadn't thought there was anything to find. Though she suspected his relationship with his mother hadn't been a simple one, learning she'd been involved in graft and redirection of government funds had to have been a shock.
Sympathy nibbled at the edges of her hurt. It still didn't excuse his actions toward her, however. She focused on the issue at hand. “Once you agreed to the biography, why didn't you tell me?”
“I couldn't.”
“Liar.” Shyla was a champion at pushing Natalie's buttons, and Rafe was coming a close second. “You certainly could have. You chose not to and hoped I was too stupid to figure it out.”
“It wasn't like that.” His gaze flicked away from hers to the computer, the boxes, the window. It was the first sign of remorse she'd seen.
“What was it like, then?” She tamped down a rising fury. She rarely lost her temper, but when she did, it was ugly. “You were just going to let me go merrily on my way, attach my name, my reputation, to a biography you knew would be missing vital information? And then, when the scandal came out, because scandals always do, even if it took decades, I'd look like a sap, a stooge paid to sweep it under the rug?”
He shifted his weight from his heels to the balls of his feet and back again. “If you couldn't find it, no one could. You're too smart, too instinctively intelligent, to miss the signs. That's why I had to hide things from you.”
She hated the warm tug in her belly at his compliments. He couldn't distract her from her righteous anger with placating words. “This is my career you are talking about. How could you?”
“It's not your career, though. Not really. You're a librarian, not an investigative journalist.”
She stared, stunned at this cavalier opinion of her profession. “And that makes it okay to work against me, to prevent me from doing the best job I can? I thought you cared for me more than that.”
“I didn't know you. Not when I made the decision.” He scrubbed his hands through his hair, took two steps toward the closet and then spun back to face her. For the first time, she heard frustration in his sober tones. Colour had returned to his complexion and red highlighted his sharp cheekbones. “I was protecting my mother's legacy. And Otto's future. You know he wants to run for office. What chance do you think he'd have if it was discovered his mother took bribes to award billion-dollar contracts and siphoned money out of those same contracts to support her political campaigns?”
“Otto will be judged on his own merits, not on something that happened when he was in elementary school.”
He scoffed. “You're not that naive. Even I know that's not true.”
The fact he was right made her even angrier. She swallowed down a hot ball and blinked back tears. She would not cry in front of him, no matter how mad he made her. She went on the attack. “Scandals flare up all the time and are doused just as quickly. Don't hide behind that excuse. You should have been honest with me. Then we could have dealt with this together.”
“Dealt how? You want to put this in the book, don't you? You've basically said you have to. That will make problems, not solve them.”
“Maybe it's not what we think it is. The graft and misappropriation of funds is only a conjecture, one I'm making based on your secretiveness and a couple of letters I've read. Unless you have something concrete, something that lays out her crimes point by point, we could be wrong. Now I've lost weeks of research time that could have been spent finding evidence to clear your mother.”
“I'm not wrong.” He shook his head, the lock of hair falling on his forehead, his tone defeated. “But even if I am, perception is reality. People only hear what they want to hear. If you so much as hint at this in the biography, whether it’s true or not, the media will latch onto it. Maybe even do their own investigations. I can't risk that happening.”
“You should have told me. Maybe not on day one, but after...” She waved her hands in a gesture meant to encompass their recent intimacy.
“I know. But I didn't. I didn't want to.” The last words burst out of him like the confession of a man with a noose around his neck. He sank onto the table, resting his palms on the surface and slumping forward despondently. “I expect you'll be leaving now. But you might as well have dinner first. I'll stay out of your way until you're gone.”
She stared at him, puzzlement skipping to the top of her long list of tangled emotions. “Leave? Stay out of my way?”
He still didn't meet her eyes, an extremely worrisome state of affairs. He was nothing if not direct, in both actions and words. “You won't want to stay with me, now you know I lied. If none of your friends can take you in, I'll pay for a hotel room until your apartment is ready. It's the least I can do.”
––––––––
RAFE KEPT HIS EYES on the floor. It had been agony, meeting Natalie's hurt and angry gaze as she confronted him. But it would kill him to watch her walk away.
Two grey-slippered feet came into view. From this angle, he could only see to her knees, clad in blue jeans.
“Are you kicking me out?”
Her tone was curious, maybe even confused. He risked a glance higher and caught a glimpse of her peering at him with her head tilted to one side. He focused on her toes once more. “Of course not. But I assume you won't be comfortable here anymore.” He pushed out the rest like squeezing a sliver from an infected finger. “With me.”
She stepped forward, one foot on either side of his own, much larger feet. Small fuzzy slipper, large black-socked foot, large black-socked foot, small fuzzy slipper. Soft fingers bracketed his neck, thumbs pressed on the underside of his jaw, encouraging his head to rise. Her sweet summery scent enveloped him and though he lifted his chin, he closed his eyes, not wanting to see the painful truth in her face.
He knew he'd screwed up, that he was the cause of this chasm between them. Yet, he had the horrifying feeling she felt sorry for him.
“Rafe.” Her compassionate tone did nothing to ease his embarrassment. Soft cool palms swept down his throat, landed on his shoulders, and pushed gently. “Look at me, you big baby.”
That made his eyelids pop open. With his hips resting on the table, they were nose to nose. “Baby?”
She nodded, a gleam of amusement in her warm brown eyes. “If you're not kicking me out, why do you expect me to leave?”
If anyone was confused, it was him. She had to be furious. Why hadn't she stormed out by now? “You must hate me for what I did. I withheld important information, even outright lied to you.”
She jerked her chin in a go-on gesture when he paused. What else did she want him to say? It seemed pretty clear to him. He'd made a mistake, and his punishment was losing Natalie. He thought back over the conversation, wondering how he could explain things so she would understand. She would still leave, but at least she'd have the whole truth.
It was then he realized he'd made yet another glaring error.
“I haven't apologized yet.” He had been keeping his palms pressed firmly on the table to prevent himself from touching her. Now he lifted her hands off his shoulders and swept his mouth across her knuckles in a barely there caress. “I'm sorry. I’m so sorry I didn't trust you from the start. Sorry I didn't tell you my fears once I did trust you. Can you forgive me?”
Her expression was half-exasperated, half-tender. “Of course I forgive you. You hurt my feelings and I'm still angry with you. Furious, in fact. But that doesn't mean I’ll leave you. It just means we had our first fight.”
Her kiss was sweet absolution and cool blessing. The snowball of fear lodged in his ribs melted at the edges. Maybe he hadn't ruined everything after all.