Triplets Under The Tree

Caitlyn led him to a picture on the wall, the one of him standing with two fighters about to enter the ring. “Falco is your MMA promotional venue. You founded it once your career ended. That’s where you made all your money.”

“When did I stop fighting?”

“It wasn’t long after you and Vanessa got married. You don’t remember that, either?” When he shook his head, she told him what little she knew about his last fight. “Brian Kerr nearly killed you. Illegal punch to the back of your head and you hit the floor at a bad angle. Knocked you out. You were in the hospital unconscious for two days. That’s probably why your amnesia is so pronounced. Your brain has sustained quite a bit of trauma.”

Really, he should have already been checked out by a competent doctor, but he’d refused when she’d mentioned it earlier. It wasn’t as if she could make him. Caitlyn had no experience with amnesia or a powerful man who wouldn’t admit to weakness.

Deep down, she had an undeniable desire to gain some experience, especially since it came wrapped in an Antonio package.

He stared at the picture for a moment. “Falco is the name of my company,” he announced cautiously as if testing it out. “It’s not my name.”

Her heart ached over his obvious confusion. She wanted to help him, to erase that small bit of helplessness she would never have associated with confident, solid Antonio Cavallari if she hadn’t seen it firsthand.

“Falco was your nickname when you were fighting. You transferred it to your promotional company because I guess it had some sentimental value.” Not that he’d ever discussed it with her. It was an assumption everyone had made, regardless.

“What happened to my company while I was missing?”

Missing—was that how he’d thought of himself? She tried to put herself in his place, waking up with few memories, in a strange place, with strange people who spoke a different language, all while recuperating from a plane crash and near drowning. The picture was not pretty, which tugged at her heart anew.

“I, um, have control over it.” And it had languished like the bedroom and his gym.

What did she know about running an MMA promotional company? But she couldn’t have sold it or tried to step into his shoes. In many ways, his place in the world had been on accidental hold, as if a higher power had stilled her hand from dismantling Antonio’s life. It had been here, waiting for him to slip back into it.

His expression hardened and the glimpse of vulnerability vanished. “I want control of my estate. And my company. Do whatever you have to do to make that happen.”

The rasp in his voice, which hadn’t been there before he got on that plane, laced his statement with a menacing undertone. He seemed more like a stranger in that moment than he had when he’d first appeared on her doorstep, unkempt and unrecognizable.

It was a brutal reminder that he wasn’t the same man. He wasn’t a safe fantasy come to life. And she wasn’t her sister, a woman who could easily handle a man like Antonio—worse, she wasn’t the woman he’d picked.

“It’s a lot to process, I realize,” she said slowly as her pulse skittered out of control. This harder, hooded Antonio was impossible to read, and she had no idea how to handle this unprecedented situation. “But you just got back to the States. You don’t even remember Falco, let alone how to run it. Why don’t you take a few days, get your bearings? I’ll help you.”

The offer was genuine. But it also kept her in his proximity so she could figure out his plans. If she got a hint that he was thinking about fighting her for custody of the triplets, she’d be ready. She was their mother, and this man—who was still very much a ghost of his former self—was not taking away her children.

Three

Antonio shifted his iron-hard gaze from the pictures on the wall to evaluate Caitlyn coolly, which did not help her pulse. Nothing in her limited experience had prepared her to face down a man like Antonio, but she had to make him agree to a few ground rules.

“You cannot fathom what I’ve been through over the past year,” he stated firmly. “I want nothing more than to pick up the pieces of my life and begin the next chapter with these new cards I’ve been dealt. I need my identity back.”

Which was a perfectly reasonable request, but executing it more closely resembled unsnarling a knotted skein of yarn than simply handing over a few account numbers. This was one time when she couldn’t afford to back down.

Caitlyn nodded and took a deep breath. “I understand, and I’m not suggesting otherwise. The problem is that a lot of legalities are involved and I have to look out for the interests of the children.”

His gaze softened, warming her, and she didn’t know what to do with that, either.

“I’m thinking of the children, as well.”

“Good. Then, it would be best to take things slowly. You’ve been gone for a long time and the babies have a routine. It would be catastrophic to disrupt them.”

He pursed his lips. “If you’re concerned that I might dismiss the nanny, I can assure you I have no intention of doing so. I couldn’t care for one child by myself, let alone three.”

Her stomach jolted and she swallowed, gearing up to lay it on the line. “You won’t be by yourself. I’ll still be here.”

If only her voice hadn’t squeaked, that might have come across more definitively. Besides, she was still breast-feeding and didn’t plan to stop until the triplets were a year old. She was irreplaceable, as far as she was concerned.

“You’re free to get back to your life,” he said with a puzzled frown. “There’s no reason for you to continue in your role as caretaker now that I’ve returned.”

“Whoa.” She threw up a palm as the back of her neck heated in a sweaty combination of anger and fear. “Where did you get the idea that I’m just a caretaker? The babies are mine. I’m their mother.”

Nothing she’d said thus far had sunk in, obviously.

Antonio crossed his arms and contemplated her. “You said you were the surrogate. A huge sacrifice, to be sure, but the children would have been mine and Vanessa’s. You’ve been forced to care for them much longer than anyone has a right to ask. I’m relieving you of the responsibility.”

Her worst nightmare roared to life, pulsing and seething as it went for her jugular.

“No!” A tear rolled down her face before she could stop it as she tried to summon up a reasonable argument against the truth in his words. “That’s not what happened. I care for them because I love them. They became mine in every sense when I thought you and Vanessa were both gone. I need them. And they need me. Don’t take away my babies.”

A sob choked off whatever else she’d been about to say. The one and only time she’d ever tried to fight for something, and instead of using logic and reason, she’d turned into an emotional mess.

Concern weighted Antonio’s expression as he reached out to grasp her hand in a totally surprising move. His fingers found hers and squeezed tightly, shooting an unexpected thrill through her that she couldn’t contain. Coupled with the emotional distress, it was almost overwhelming.

“Don’t cry.” The lines around his eyes deepened as he heaved a ragged sigh. “I don’t know how to do this.”

“But you don’t have to know,” she countered, clinging to his hand like a lifeline. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you. Don’t change anything. It’s Christmastime and we’re family, if nothing else. I’ll stay here and continue to care for the babies, then we can spend this time figuring it out together. After the first of the year, maybe the path will seem clearer.”

Please, God.

Relief coursed through her as he slowly nodded. “I want to be as fair as possible to everyone. If you don’t have a life to get back to, then it makes sense for you to stay here. At least until January.”

“This is my life.”

Or at least it was now, since she’d given up her job as an accountant. She had no desire to be anything other than the mother she’d become over the past year. And now she had until the first of January to find a way to stay in that role. If Antonio decided his children would be better off in another arrangement, she had little to say about it.

What would she do without the family she’d formed?

“Caitlyn, I appreciate what you’ve done.” His dark eyes sought hers and held, his gratitude genuine. “You stepped into my place to care for my children. Thank you.”

That he recognized her efforts meant the world to her. He was a good man, deep inside where brain trauma couldn’t touch. As she’d always known.

She nodded, still too emotional to respond, but the sentiment gave her hope. He wasn’t heartless, just trying to do the right thing.

Somehow, Antonio had to recognize that she was the right thing for the children and then the two of them could figure out how to be co-parents. After learning how to handle triplets, that should be a walk in the park.

* * *

The next two days passed in a blur. When Caitlyn had mentioned legalities, Antonio had half thought it was an excuse to avoid giving up control of his money. But she’d vastly understated the actuality. An avalanche of paperwork awaited him once the man who’d been his lawyer for a decade became convinced Antonio had really returned from the dead.

Funny how he’d instantly recognized Kyle Lowery the moment his lawyer’s admin had ushered Antonio and Caitlyn into the man’s office. His memory problems were inconsistent and frustrating, to say the least.

Antonio’s headache persisted and grew worse the more documents Kyle’s paralegal placed in front of him. The harsh lights glinting from the gold balls on the Christmas tree in the corner didn’t help. Antonio wished he could enjoy the spirit of the season.

But Christmas and family and all of the joy others seemed to associate with this time of year meant little to him. Caitlyn had told him that his parents had died some time back, which probably explained why he remembered them with a sense of distance, as if the scenes had happened long ago.

After many more stops and an interminable number of hours, he had: a temporary driver’s license, a temporary bank card, a promise of credit cards to come, a bank teller who’d fallen all over herself to give him access to his safe-deposit box...and a dark-haired enigma of a woman who’d stuck to his side like glue, determined to help him navigate the exhausting quagmire reentering his life had become.

Why was she still here?

Why did her presence make him so happy? She somehow made everything better just by being near him. And sometimes, she looked at him a certain way that burrowed under his skin with tingly warmth. Both had become necessary. Unexpectedly so.

He studied her covertly at lunch on the third day after he’d pounded on the door of his Malibu house, delirious and determined to find answers to the question marks in his mind.

What he’d found still hadn’t fully registered. Caitlyn was an amazing woman and his kids were surprising, funny little people. Together, they were a potent package. But how did that make sense? She wasn’t their biological mother.

While Antonio absently chewed on a thick sandwich designed to put back some of his lost weight, Caitlyn laughed at Leon as he shoved his food off his tray to the floor below.

She’d insisted on the triplets sitting at the table when the adults had meals, even though the babies ate little more than puree of something and bits of Cheerios. Antonio wouldn’t have thought of having infants join them, but with the additions, eating became something more than a routine. It was a chance to spend time with his children without expectation since Brigitte and Caitlyn handled everything.

Secretly, he was grateful Caitlyn hadn’t skipped through the door the moment he’d given her the out. In the hazy reaches of his mind, he had the distinct impression most women would have run very fast in the other direction from triplets. He couldn’t understand Caitlyn’s motivation for staying unless she thought she’d get a chunk of his estate as a thank-you. Which he’d probably give her. She deserved something for her sacrifices.

“Your turn.”

Antonio did a double take at the spoon in Caitlyn’s outstretched hand and blinked. “My turn to what?”

“Feed your daughter. She won’t bite you.” Caitlyn raised her brows and nodded at the spoon. “Of the three, Annabelle is the most laid-back about eating, so start with her.”

Since he couldn’t see a graceful way to refuse, he accepted the spoon and scooted closer to the baby’s high chair, eyeing the bowl of...whatever it was. Orange applesauce?

Scowling, he scooped some up and then squinted at the baby watching him with bright eyes. How was he supposed to feed her with her fingers stuck in her mouth?

“Come on, open,” he commanded.

Annabelle fluttered her lashes and made an uncomplimentary noise, fingers firmly wedged where the spoon was supposed to go.

He tried again. “Please?”

Caitlyn giggled and he glanced at her askance, which only made her laugh harder. He rolled his shoulders, determined to pass this one small test, but getting his daughter to eat might top the list of the most difficult things he had to do today.

Antonio had learned to walk again on the poorly healed broken leg that the Indonesian doctor had promised would have to be amputated. He’d defied the odds and scarcely even had a limp now. If he could do that, one very small person could not break him.

He tapped the back of Annabelle’s hand with the edge of the spoon, hoping that would act as an open sesame, but she picked that moment to yank her fingers free. She backhanded the spoon, flinging it free of Antonio’s grip. It hit the wall with a thunk, leaving a splash of orange in a trail to the floor.

Frustration welled. He balled his fists automatically and then immediately shoved them into his lap as horror filtered through him. His first instinct was to fight, but he had to control that impulse, or else what kind of father was he going to be?

Breathing rhythmically, he willed back the frustration until his fists loosened. Better.

His first foray into caring for his kid and she elected to show him her best defensive moves. Annabelle blinked innocently as Antonio’s scowl deepened. “Yeah, you work on that technique, and when you’ve got your spinning backhand down, we’ll talk.”

Spinning backhand. The phrase had leaped into his mind with no forethought. Instantly other techniques scrolled through his head. Muay Thai. That had been his specialty. His “training” with Wilipo had come so easily because Antonio should have been teaching the class as the master, not attending as the student.

Faster now, ingrained drills, disciplines and defense strategies exploded in his mind. Why now instead of in his gym, surrounded by the relics of his former status as a mixed martial arts champion?

The headache slammed him harder than ever before and the groan escaped before he could catch it.

“It’s okay,” Caitlyn said and jumped up to retrieve the spoon. “You don’t have to feed her. I just thought you might like it.”

“No problem,” he said around the splitting pain in his temples. “Excuse me.”

He mounted the stairs to his bedroom and shut himself away in the darkened room, but refused to lie on the bed like an invalid.

Instead, he sank into a chair and put his head in his hands. This couldn’t go on, the rush of memories and the headaches and the inability to do simple tasks like stick a spoon in a baby’s mouth without becoming irrational.

But how did he change it?

Coming to LA was supposed to solve everything, give him back his memories and his life. It had only highlighted how very far he had yet to go in his journey back to the land of the living.

An hour later, the pain was manageable enough to try being civilized again. Antonio tracked down Caitlyn in the sunroom, which seemed to be her favored spot when she wasn’t hanging out with the babies. Her dark curls partially obscured the e-reader in her hands and she seemed absorbed in the words on the screen.

“I’ll visit a doctor,” he told her shortly and spun to leave before she asked any questions. She’d been after him to see one, but he’d thus far refused, having had enough of the medical profession during his months and months of rehabilitation in Indonesia.

No doctor could restore his memories, nor could one erase the scars he bore from the plane crash.

But if a Western doctor had a way to make his headaches go away, that would be stellar. He had to become a father, one way or another, and living in a crippling state of pain wasn’t going to cut it.

“I’ll drive you.” She followed him into the hall. “Just because you have a driver’s license doesn’t mean you’re ready to get behind the wheel. We’ll take my—”

“Caitlyn.” He whirled to face her, but she kept going, smacking into his chest.

His arms came up as they both nearly lost their balance and somehow she ended up pinned to the wall, their bodies tangled and flush. His lower half sprang to attention and heat shot through his gut.

Caitlyn’s wide-eyed gaze captured his and he couldn’t have broken the connection if his life depended on it. Her chest heaved against his as if she was unable to catch her breath, and that excited him, too.

“Caitlyn,” he murmured again, but that seemed to be the extent of his ability to speak as her lips parted, drawing his attention to her mouth. She caught her plump bottom lip between her teeth and—

“Um, you can let go now,” she said and cleared her throat. “I’m okay.”

He released her, stepping back to allow her the space she’d asked for, though it was far from what he wanted to do. “I’m curious about something.”

Nervously, she rearranged her glossy hair, refusing to meet his eyes. “Sure.”

“You said that you introduced me to Vanessa. How did you and I meet?” Because if he’d ever held Caitlyn in his arms before, he was an idiot if he’d willingly let her go.

“I was Rick’s accountant.” At his raised brows, she smiled. “Your former manager. He’d gone through several CPAs until he found me, and when I came by his house to do his quarterly taxes, you were there. You were wearing a pink shirt for a breast cancer fund-raiser you’d attended. We got to talking and somehow thirty minutes passed in a blur.”

Nothing wrong with her memory, clearly, and it was more than a little flattering that she recalled his clothing from that day.

“And there was something about me that you didn’t like?” Obviously, or she wouldn’t have matched him up with her sister. Maybe she’d only thought of him as a friend.

“Oh, no! You were great. Gorgeous and gentlemanly.” The blush that never seemed far from the surface of her skin bloomed again, heightening the blue in her eyes. “I mean, I might have been a little starstruck, which is silly, considering how many celebrities I’ve done taxes for.”

That pleased him even more than her pink-shirt comment, and he wanted to learn more about this selfless woman who’d apparently been a part of his life for a long time. “You’re an accountant, then?”

“Not anymore. I gave up all my clients when...Vanessa died.” She laughed self-consciously. “It’s hard to retrain my brain to no longer say ‘when Antonio and Vanessa died’.”

The mention of his wife sent an unexpected spike of sadness through his gut. “I don’t remember being married to her. Did you think we’d be a good couple? Is that why you introduced us?”

All at once, a troubling sense of disloyalty effectively killed the discovery mode he’d fallen into with Caitlyn. He had no context for his relationship with Vanessa, but she’d been his wife and this woman was his sister-in-law. He shouldn’t be thinking about Caitlyn as anything other than a temporary mother to his children. She’d probably be horrified at the direction of his thoughts.

“Oh. No, I mentioned that she was my sister and you asked to meet her. I don’t think you even noticed me after that. Vanessa is—was—much more memorable than me.”

“I beg to differ,” he countered wryly, which pulled a smile out of her. “When I close my eyes, yours is the only face I can picture.”

Apparently he couldn’t help himself. Did he automatically flirt with beautiful women or just this one?

More blushing. But he wasn’t going to apologize for the messed-up state of his mind or the distinct pleasure he’d discovered at baiting this delicate-skinned woman. He’d needed something that made him feel good. Was that so wrong?

“Well, she was beautiful and famous. I didn’t blame you for wanting an introduction. Most people did.”

“Famous?” Somehow that didn’t seem like valid criteria for wishing to meet a woman.

Caitlyn explained that Vanessa starred on Beacon Street, a TV show beloved by millions of fans, and then with a misty sigh, Caitlyn waxed poetic about their fairy-tale wedding. “Vanessa wanted a baby more than anything. She said it was the only thing missing from your perfect marriage.”

He’d heard everything she’d said, but in a removed way, as if it had happened to someone else. And perhaps in many respects, it had. He didn’t remember being in love with Vanessa, but he’d obviously put great stock in her as a partner, lover and future mother of his children.

Part of his journey apparently lay in reconciling his relationship with the woman he’d married—so he could know if it was something he might want to do again, with another woman, at some point in the future. He needed to grieve his lost love as best he could and move on.

Perhaps Caitlyn had a role in this part of his recovery, as well. “I’d like to know more about Vanessa. Will you tell me? Or is it too hard?”

She nodded with a small smile. “It’s hard. But it’s good for me, too, to remember her. I miss her every day.”

Launching into an impassioned tribute to her sister, Caitlyn talked with her hands, her animated face clearly displaying her love for Vanessa. But Antonio couldn’t stop thinking about that moment against the wall, when he’d almost reached out to see what Caitlyn’s glossy hair felt like. What might have happened between them all those years ago if he hadn’t asked Caitlyn to introduce him to Vanessa?

It was madness to wonder. He would do well to focus on the present, where, thanks to Caitlyn, he’d forgotten about his headache. She’d begged him to allow her to stay under his roof and, frankly, it was easy to say yes because he needed her help. Incredible fortune had smiled on him since the plane crash, and he couldn’t help feeling that Caitlyn was a large part of it.

Four

Instead of taking Antonio to the doctor, Caitlyn arranged for the doctor to come to the house the following afternoon. Antonio needed his space for as long as possible, at least until he got comfortable being in civilization again—or at least that was Caitlyn’s opinion, and no one had to know that it fit her selfish desire to have him all to herself.

As a plus, Caitlyn wouldn’t have to worry about wrestling Antonio into the car in case he changed his mind about seeing a doctor after all. Not that she could have. Nor did she do herself any favors imagining the tussle, which would likely end with Antonio’s hard body pinning her against another wall.

Recalling yesterday’s charged encounter had kept her quite warm last night and quite unable to sleep due to a restless ache she had no idea how to ease. Well, okay, she had some idea, but her sensibilities didn’t extend to middle-of-the-night visits to the sexy man down the hall. One did not simply walk into Antonio’s bedroom with the intent of hopping into bed with him, or at least she didn’t. Risqué nighttime shenanigans were Vanessa’s style, and her sister had had her heart broken time and time again as a result. Sex and love were so closely entwined that Caitlyn was willing to wait for the commitment she’d always wanted.