“I told you that fancy-pants Fortune would break your heart. Women like us aren’t poised and polished enough for a man like that.”
Francesca swallowed back a bitter laugh as her mother put a glass of sweet tea on the table in front of her. As sure as Lola May had sounded when she’d comforted Francesca last night, Paige was just as certain in her conviction.
“I didn’t come here to talk about Keaton,” Francesca said.
Her mother crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back against the kitchen counter. “It’s obvious you’re hurtin’. Your face is so red and blotchy it looks like you’ve been boo-hooing into your pillow all night long.”
That wasn’t exactly true, since sleep had eluded Francesca for most of the night. She’d wound up on the couch in her apartment watching made-for-TV movies with Ciara at her side.
She ignored her mother’s subtle jab and asked, “Why did you talk to Lou about Keaton and me?”
Paige’s thin brows rose until they looked like they might become one with her hairline. “You have a history with Louis. He cares about you.”
“Lou cares about himself,” Francesca shot back, “and he always has.”
“He’s made mistakes, but he’s truly sorry, Frannie. My instinct tells me he’s changed.”
Another laugh surged up in Francesca’s throat. When it came to men, her mother had the instincts of a Kamikaze pilot hell-bent on his mission.
“Mom, I’m done with Lou.”
“He understands who you are,” her mother insisted. “And his band is really taking off, so he’s going to need someone at his side to support him.”
“Don’t you mean wait on him hand and foot?”
Her mother sighed. “Frannie, sometimes love means making sacrifices.”
“Not when what’s being sacrificed is my self-respect.”
“Do you think that Fortune is a better bet? With his highfalutin’ accent and false promises?”
Francesca took a drink of tea then stood. “Keaton never promised me anything,” she whispered, even though it felt like he had made a thousand promises to her heart. “But if he doesn’t want me for who I am, he isn’t a better bet. Maybe I have to believe I’m enough before I can expect anyone else to believe it.” She moved forward and took her mom’s hands. “We’re both enough, Mom. Just the way we are.”
Paige’s eyes softened for a moment and Francesca could see the pain of a lifetime of disappointment in them. She didn’t want that for herself. She wanted to live.
“Just the way we are,” her mother whispered. “When did you get so wise, Frannie-girl?”
“I’m not wise yet,” Francesca answered. “But I’m working on it.”
* * *
“I do not belong here.”
The following week, Keaton sat in the waiting area on the maternity floor of an Austin hospital where somewhere behind a set of swinging doors Ben’s wife, Ella, was giving birth.
“Of course you do,” his half sister Olivia told him sweetly as she paced back and forth. “If you weren’t here, Sophie would be squeezing my fingers into oblivion and I value my bones too much for that sort of torture.”
His youngest half sister, Sophie, flashed a sheepish smile and gentled the death-grip she had on his hand. She sat next to him in one of the dull gray upholstered chairs that lined the waiting room. “Sorry,” she whispered. “I’m nervous.”
“I don’t mind,” he told her and covered her small hand with his. “At least I can be of some use.”
“Family doesn’t have to be useful,” Sophie said. “They just have to show up.”
Family. Right, then.
Even if he wasn’t ready to claim his father, the Fortune Robinson children were his family—his brothers and sisters.
“You have to say it,” Olivia said, stopping in front of his chair.
Keaton felt his brows furrow. “Say what?”
“That you belong here with us.”
“Very good. I appreciate you including me,” he told her, flashing a smile. “Even if babies aren’t my strong suit.”
Her brown eyes narrowed. “Not good enough.”
“Just say it,” Sophie advised. “Once Olivia sets her mind to something, there’s no use denying her.”
Bloody hell. Three little words but they felt like some kind of pledge Keaton wasn’t ready to make. “Wouldn’t it be easier if we pricked our fingers and swore our fidelity to each other in blood?” he asked playfully, still trying to wield the charm that had been emphasized in the recent “Becoming a Fortune” profile.
“Say it,” both sisters said at the same time.
Keaton swallowed and cleared his throat. So much for the charm. It hadn’t done much to impress Francesca and clearly wasn’t working on these two women.
“I belong here,” he said finally.
Olivia beamed down at him while Sophie cheered.
Keaton couldn’t help grinning in return. “Did you two always get your way?”
“Of course we always got our way. We had Rachel and Zoe then, too,” Olivia answered, referring to their two sisters who had found and rediscovered love in the last two years. “We were a bit of a force.”
“In our defense,” Sophie added, “we had to put up with Ben, Wes, Kieran and Graham. Growing up with four brothers may have made some of us a little bossy.”
Keaton thought about what it would have been like to grow up in a big family. Who he would have become if he hadn’t had the constant underlying need to prove himself to the father he never knew. Another wave of gratitude rushed through him for his mother and all she’d sacrificed. She’d been wounded deeply by Gerald Robinson but had never let it stop her from loving Keaton, even when he’d grown up to look so much like his father and brothers.
“Because we’re now your pesky sisters,” Olivia said, settling into the chair on his other side, “do you want to talk about what’s wrong?”
“Er, what’s wrong with what?”
“With you,” Olivia said gently. “Ben told us about how happy you seemed the last time the two of you had lunch. He said it was because of a woman. But now you look like you’ve just lost your best friend.”
Sophie nodded and this time the squeeze she gave his hand was more about comfort than her own panic. “We assume that has something to do with the same woman.”
Keaton tugged at the collar of his crisp oxford-cloth shirt, which suddenly felt too tight.
Why had he wished for brothers and sisters again?
“You’re stuck with us,” Sophie said, as if reading his mind, “and unless Ben comes running through those doors to announce the birth of his baby, we’re not letting you off the hook.”
Keaton threw a longing glance at the door that led to the maternity ward, but Ben didn’t miraculously emerge. “There was a woman,” he admitted, “but I made a hash of it and now she’s done with me. End of story.”
“Nice try,” Sophie said, giving his shoulder a nudge. “We want details.”
“She’s an Austin native,” Keaton answered, the image of Francesca’s beautiful smile filling his mind. “She waitresses in a diner near the job site where I’ve been working. She’s also putting herself through school and is one of the hardest working, most determined people I’ve ever met. Her attitude never falters and she’s not only gorgeous on the outside, but truly stunning on the inside. Every moment I spent with her was perfect. It didn’t matter what we were doing—Francesca made every tiny aspect of life amazing.” He let out a shaky laugh and looked between Sophie and Olivia, who were both staring at him like he was about to strip off his clothes and run naked through the hospital corridors.
“I was kind of talking about the details of how it ended,” Sophie said quietly. “And now I’m even more confused because you clearly—”
“Love this Francesca,” Olivia finished.
Keaton automatically shook his head. “That was the problem. I can’t love her. I can’t commit to a woman like that.”
“Why?” Sophie demanded. “Do you have a wife hidden away in some decrepit English castle?”
“A decrepit castle?” Keaton asked, arching an eyebrow. “Someone is a fan of the Brontë sisters, I take it?”
“Ignore her,” Olivia said. “She’s too much of a romantic.”
Sophie leaned forward and spoke across Keaton. “There’s no such thing as too much of a romantic.”
Olivia rolled her eyes. “Was it a small hash or a royal one?”
“Royal,” Keaton confirmed. “She’d seen the blog interview Ariana Lamonte did and the bits from my ex-girlfriends made her nervous. She wanted to make sure that things were different between us. That I was different.”
“And you?” Sophie prompted.
“Responded like the jackass I am.” He shrugged. “I can’t be different, and she can’t love me. Even though I only recently discovered that I’m Gerald’s son, I’m too much like him.” He held up his hands when Olivia let out a gasp. “I would never cheat on her, but I’ll hurt her just the same.”
“It sounds like you already have,” Sophie murmured.
Keaton blew out a breath through the vise that was slowing choking off his lungs. “I didn’t mean it to end that way.”
Sophie’s delicate brows furrowed. “But you meant it to end?”
“It was bound to,” he said and ran a hand through his hair. “I can’t be the man she deserves.”
“Because you don’t care enough?” Olivia asked. “Or because you’re a yellow-bellied coward?”
“I care,” Keaton answered, even though that made him a coward in his sister’s eyes. But he wasn’t. He was a realist with strong self-preservation instincts. Nothing less and definitely nothing more.
“You aren’t our father,” Sophie told him, her tone achingly gentle. “I know it’s difficult with what he’s done and how he’s behaved. Trust me, the fact that our family seems to be growing exponentially has not been easy for the eight of us. But you can’t let that define you.”
“It already has,” Keaton answered, realizing that coward might be the perfect designation for him.
Olivia shook her head. “It doesn’t have to anymore. Look at Ben, Wes and Graham. They found women who were worth risking their hearts to win and that’s what they did. It’s out there for you, Keaton. You’ll find the right woman and—”
“He already has,” Sophie interjected, popping up from her seat. “Now you need to fight for her. Make her love you.” She spread her arms wide. “You need a grand gesture.”
Keaton couldn’t help the smile that tugged up one corner of his mouth. “Is that so?”
“Don’t listen to her,” Olivia counseled. “We’ve already established that she’s too romantic.”
“That’s not true.” Sophie made a face at her sister. “Zoe made Joaquin fall in love with her and they’re happy as two pigs in a poke. It is absolutely possible to make someone love you.” She pointed to Keaton. “And he has an advantage. His Francesca already told him she loved him. Now he just has to force her to give him another chance.”
His Francesca.
The thought of the beautiful, bubbly waitress belonging to him made Keaton’s heart stumble to find purchase as his whole world seemed to shift and fall into place. Of course he loved her. Bloody hell, he’d loved her almost from the moment he saw her. He truly had been the worst sort of coward to let his doubts destroy his opportunity to find happiness with her.
“I’m not sure another chance is possible,” Keaton said, shaking his head. “I’ve called and texted, trying to apologize. She won’t return either. It’s clear she’s finished with me.”
Sophie crouched low until they were at eye level and said slowly, “Grand. Gesture.”
He opened his mouth to respond but just then the door to the maternity ward swung open and Ben came through. His face was lit with the most astounding mix of joy and relief Keaton had ever witnessed.
“She’s here,” he shouted as both of his sisters rushed forward. “Baby Lacey has made her grand entrance and she’s perfect.”
Sophie gave a happy squeal then asked, “How’s Ella?”
“She made it through like a trooper.” Ben’s expression turned tender. “There are no words,” he murmured, “for how strong and amazing my wife is. She’s my hero.”
Olivia hugged her brother. “Tell us about the baby. Who does she look like? Does she smell sweet like a baby?”
“Does she have hair?” Sophie demanded.
Ben chuckled and wrapped an arm around each of his sisters. “Come and see for yourself. Ella is settled in the room with the baby, and she sent me out to get you.”
Sophie bounced up and down on her toes. “Let’s go.” She moved to where the sisters had left an enormous stack of boxes and gift bags on one of the waiting room’s side tables. “Keaton, will you help me carry all of this?”
“I should give you time together,” he said quickly, coming to his feet. “I’ll stop back later and—”
Ben pointed a finger at him. “You are not leaving me with four women. There’s got to be something in the Bro Code about that.”
“I’m not sure the Bro Code applies to newborn babies,” Keaton said with a grimace. But he took the boxes and bags Sophie handed him and followed his siblings down the corridor.
A sharp pain stabbed through his chest the moment he saw Ella propped up in the hospital bed, a small bundle cradled in her arms. He’d never imagined himself as a family man. He didn’t even particularly care for babies with their soggy nappies and blood-curdling cries.
But Ella, with her wavy auburn hair and bright blue eyes, looked so blissfully happy holding little Lacey. It was as if everything in her life had led to this perfect moment and the beginning of the family she and Ben had created. He couldn’t help but wonder what Francesca would look like holding his baby. There was no doubt she’d be a wonderful mother, patient and sweet, making every day an adventure. He thought about how hard his mother had been forced to work to make a life for him, and he realized suddenly that he wasn’t anything like his father.
Gerald Robinson had no problem leaving behind a trail of broken hearts and unwanted children. If Keaton became a father, he would give everything he had to being the best parent he could. He would make sure he knew their mother was loved and cherished for her entire life.
His head pounded at the sudden realization that he did not have to turn out like his father. He could choose to be a different man. A man who deserved to call Francesca his own.
His gaze caught Sophie’s from across the bed where she and Olivia were huddle over baby Lacey. His little sister winked and mouthed, “Grand gesture.”
Keaton gave a small nod, the wheels already turning in his brain.