From Heiress To Mum

Hunter supposed he could understand that when it came to helping clear Janie’s lungs of the mucus. The airway clearance therapy could have posed a problem for someone who was clumsy. But he didn’t know how that prevented his father from helping to get Janie to her doctor’s appointments. Or helping to keep her active. Getting her diet right. Doing anything, really, that would make Janie’s life easier. Or make her feel as if she weren’t a burden for the man who should have loved her unconditionally.

She was a bright kid who’d picked up on things without much encouragement. She’d noticed their father’s lack of interest. Hunter had done everything he could to make up for it.

When she’d passed away, he hadn’t wanted friends to know how much his life had changed. How his heart ached, all the time. How alone he felt. How...broken. He hadn’t been able to tell his parents about it when they’d been fighting, all the time. So he’d stuck his head into books, reading about technology and then, after his parents’ divorce, renewable energy. It had distracted him enough to survive. To thrive, even, if he thought about the tech business he’d started ten years ago during university.

But that had meant he’d spent his entire university career studying or working. And when his business had taken off, he’d spent his time making sure it stayed in the air. He’d hired Ted to help with that. He hadn’t even thought about Ted when it came to this, though.

When he’d first seen Grace. When she’d told him about the baby. When she’d showed him pictures, and he’d seen a face that looked so much like Janie’s his heart had flipped over in his chest. When she’d asked Hunter to help take care of the child.

No, for that, he’d immediately thought about Autumn.

‘You’re the only person who knows why this is...’ He trailed off. He hoped she’d interrupt him. That she’d finished his sentence for him. She didn’t. ‘You’re the only person who knows about my family.’

He didn’t let her speak when she opened her mouth. Too late, he thought. Because if he didn’t continue, he’d lose his courage.

‘You have to help me take care of him.’

‘What?’

‘You... You have to help me. She wants me—needs me—to take care of him while she’s finishing her articles at a law firm in Gauteng for the next three months.’ His voice dropped to a whisper. A rasp. A sacrifice. ‘I... I don’t know how. Please, Autumn. Please, help me.’

* * *

Hunter’s gaze felt like lasers pointed straight at her heart.

‘I... I need a moment,’ she said, and rose unsteadily to her feet. ‘Coffee?’

He angled his head, looked down, and she chose to interpret the gesture as a yes. Though in all honesty, he could have shaken his head for no and she’d still have made him one. She was barely paying attention to him. She was only focusing on getting away from him.

She strode by him, through the glass sliding doors and past the stone-coloured furniture and yellow pillows she’d chosen because they made her happy. It had been the same reason she’d chosen the bright paintings on the walls, and why she’d stacked the bookshelves beneath them with romance novels.

Her kitchen looked much the same: splashes of colour that made her feel bright. Light. But the appliances were sleek and top of the range; the cupboards meticulously arranged for optimum usage; the pantry filled with every ingredient she needed for when she experimented with cakes or biscuits or cupcakes or desserts or, really, anything that tickled her fancy.

With unsteady fingers, she popped a pod in the espresso machine, put a mug where it was needed, pressed buttons and let the machine do its work. She frothed the milk while she waited, keeping her hands busy, avoiding the thoughts speeding through her mind. She placed the second mug in the machine with a new pod, added milk to the first, then did the same for the second when it finished. She set them both on a tray, fixed a plate of cookies she’d baked before she’d left for her parents’ anniversary weekend, and set that on the tray.

She was ready to go out. Except she couldn’t. She...didn’t want to. Not yet. She braced her hands on her kitchen counter, lifting her head so she could see out of the window. She’d insisted the window be included when she’d been fixing up the house. Had insisted on the same thing when she’d built the bakery.

Usually, she’d take her coffee there in the mornings, about an hour before she’d have to be at the bakery, which was about the time the sun rose in summer. She’d watch the golden orb appear from over the hills in the distance; she’d see the faint blue of the river that ran along the edge of the Bouw Estate; and her eyes would rest on the fields of flowers she refused to cut, giving the estate a wild feeling she genuinely enjoyed.

Now, all she saw was blue-black darkness. It seemed like an appropriate representation of what was going on in her mind.

The rope that had been keeping her together since their break-up felt dangerously frayed. Which was in itself a danger, as pretending everything was fine was the only way she kept her insecurities at bay. The voices that told her it wasn’t that Hunter didn’t want a future, a family; it was that he didn’t want one with her.

Look at how he spoke about his sister, the voice said. With such emotion. Respect, fondness, love. How could a man with so much to give not want to share that in a family?

She’d managed to dismiss it with Hunter’s words. The truth, he’d assured her, was that he couldn’t bear to repeat the painful experiences of his childhood. His sister had been sick, then died; his father had been physically present, but emotionally absent; and his parents had eventually divorced after Janie’s death. How could she argue with that?

But she had. In silence, with herself, her insecurities making damning arguments. Convincing arguments. Hunter’s news made those arguments hard not to believe.

As she thought of it—that he had a child—a fresh bomb of pain went off inside her. She closed her eyes, held her breath, hoping it would stop the devastation. But it didn’t, and she felt her insides be destroyed. Felt them crumble and lie disintegrated inside her.

As she let air into her lungs, she took the tray outside. Hunter sat exactly as she’d left him—stiff, staring out over the city—and she put the tray down in front of him.

She settled in with her coffee, but since her back was towards the city she was forced to look at Hunter. She sipped thoughtfully, waiting for him to look at her, ignoring the throbbing in her chest as she did. When he finally met her eyes, she tilted her head.

‘How did it go?’ she asked quietly. ‘When she told you.’

He stared at her for a moment, then picked up his coffee.

‘I...struggled.’

‘So you were perfectly stoic, but freaking out inside.’

His mouth lifted. ‘Pretty much.’

‘You don’t think she’s lying?’

‘No.’

The answer was quick and immediate, his voice hard. He was defending the woman, Autumn realised, though she didn’t understand why the woman needed defending. She was only asking a question. But then, this was Hunter. Protecting what was his. And the woman was his now.

Her stomach twisted.

‘She has no reason to lie,’ he continued. ‘And she showed me a picture. He looks...exactly like Janie did when she was a baby.’

‘Oh.’

It was all she said; it was all the pain allowed her to say. All the other words that came to mind were selfish.

We could have had a child who looked like Janie. We could have done this together, and you wouldn’t have had to ask for help.

‘Is he sick?’ she asked.

The cup he’d lifted crashed against the table as he set it back down. ‘I... I don’t know.’

‘You didn’t ask?’

‘No.’

‘Hunter, why the hell wouldn’t you ask if your baby was sick?’

He didn’t answer her, only looked stricken. Her heart softened, though she refused to allow herself to show it. Beneath the softness was a pain she hadn’t known she could feel.

He’d told her it was probably good he wouldn’t have children when he was a carrier of the CF gene. There were zero chances then that he’d pass it down—the disease or the gene. Now she was supposed to believe he’d forgotten about it?

‘She would have told me if he was sick,’ he said.

Autumn set her mug down, her own fingers trembling too much for her to hold it.

‘How would she have known? Newborns aren’t tested for CF here unless it’s specifically requested. What?’ she asked defensively when he looked at her. ‘I did the research.’

She continued so neither of them would dwell on why she’d done it.

‘Besides, Hunter, what do you know about this woman?’ She didn’t wait for an answer. ‘You met her twice. Once the night you two had sex, and tonight. Now she’s asking you to take care of your child?’

‘It’s fair,’ he said in a back-off voice.

‘Of course it’s fair,’ she said, gritting her teeth. ‘But you don’t know her. You have no idea what she would have told you.’ She paused. Saw his face. Sat back slowly. ‘You’ve already realised that.’ There was barely a second before she said, ‘And you know you didn’t ask because you don’t want to know whether he’s sick.’

Time passed. Seconds, minutes, she wasn’t sure.

‘You’re right,’ he said quietly. ‘But I’ll find out tomorrow.’

Tired now, she sighed. ‘What’s happening tomorrow?’

‘She’s dropping him off.’ He picked up his coffee again, brought it to his mouth. When he was done, he looked her dead in the eye. ‘Be there with me.’

CHAPTER THREE

THE SITUATION REMINDED him of his father.

Calvin Lee had expected Hunter to fill in where he’d lacked with Janie. Hunter knew it because his father would call him whenever he was expected to care for Janie on his own. Now, Hunter could see himself doing the same to Autumn. Treating her with that same selfishness. But he couldn’t stop. Was urged forward by something he didn’t understand.

‘Hunter,’ she said quietly, ‘I can’t see what either of us could possibly gain from me being there with you.’

Hunter thought about the hug she’d given him when he’d first arrived. He remembered the steadiness of her gaze, despite the news he’d told her. He could hear the concern in her voice, and, beneath it, a strength he desperately needed.

That was why he was here. He’d known she’d offer comfort, steadiness, strength. Because she was his friend. She cared about him. Even though he’d broken her heart by being unable to say yes to the family she wanted. Even though he’d seen some of the light in her eyes go out that day.

It had been part of what had spurred him to the bar the next night.

Her casual talks of a future and a family had forced him to face memories he’d been running from. Of him curling up to Janie as their parents argued in loud whispers outside Janie’s door. Of distracting her when the arguments turned louder. Of almost being relieved that she hadn’t been there any more when the arguments graduated into shouting.

And then, of the silence.

He couldn’t imagine putting a kid through it. Through what Janie had suffered with her illness. Through what he’d suffered with his parents’ marriage. Through what it felt like to have the possibility of carrying the cystic fibrosis gene hover like a noose around their necks. Or through having to make the hardest decision in his life about having a family because of it.

Now he was being forced to imagine it. He was being forced to face the fears.

He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, over his face.

‘I need you there,’ he rasped, shame straining his voice. ‘I don’t know if I can do it.’

‘Of course you can,’ she said. ‘You took care of Janie.’

The feeling he couldn’t explain swelled, compelling him to beg.

‘Please.’

The skin around her eyes crinkled in tension. She gave a curt nod. ‘Fine. If it’s that important to you, I’ll go.’

‘Thank you.’

He wanted to tell her she shouldn’t have agreed. That she was being too nice to him; that he didn’t deserve it. Neither did she. She deserved more than her ex-boyfriend and pseudo-friend asking this from her.

He left it at thank you.

‘She obviously knew your name if she knew how to find you,’ Autumn noted slowly, almost carefully after a bit. ‘Or did you...?’ She cleared her throat. ‘Did you go back to your place?’

Heat curled around his neck. ‘We, er, introduced ourselves when we met.’ He didn’t answer her question.

‘So she knows your surname, too?’

He angled his head, trying to remember. The entire event was a little hazy. Another great example he’d set for his son.

His son.

‘I think so.’

‘Okay, then. So she looked you up on the Internet—’

‘How do you know that?’

She gave him a look. ‘If some guy I had a one-night stand with knocked me up and I knew his name, you can be sure I’d do an Internet search on him before finding him.’

His mug stopped halfway to his mouth and he just stared at her, his mind playing her words over and over again.

‘If some guy I had a one-night stand with knocked me up...’

Purposefully, and much too violently, he brought the coffee to his lips, swallowing down the hiss when the still-hot liquid burnt his throat. But he relished the pain, since he deserved it for the criminal thoughts he’d had at Autumn falling pregnant with someone else’s baby.

Selfish, selfish, selfish.

‘Hunter?’ she asked with a frown. ‘Did you hear anything I said?’

‘About the Internet search?’

She nodded.

‘Yes. I probably should have thought about that.’

She studied him over her mug. ‘I imagine you were...too surprised to think.’

‘An understatement.’

‘That bad?’

‘It was fine,’ he denied. Her eyebrow lifted. ‘Shocking. It was shocking.’

‘Enough for you to want to avoid the gene issue.’

He gritted his teeth, guilt flaring in his gut.

‘Yes.’

‘Enough for you not to realise what comes up when you do an Internet search for Hunter Lee.’

He didn’t get what she was talking about for the longest moment, and then he shook his head.

‘You don’t mean—’

She wrinkled her nose. ‘Afraid so.’

And he thought the situation couldn’t get worse.

‘Oh, no,’ he groaned. ‘She’s seen me...’ He couldn’t finish the words.

‘It wasn’t that bad,’ she said kindly.

‘You have to say that,’ he said, his jaw tightening, ‘because you’re the reason it’s there.’

‘Maybe,’ she allowed. ‘Or maybe it’s there because you were having fun—’

‘And you filmed it.’

‘It was a social media challenge. I was supposed to film it.’

‘I did it for you.’

‘I appreciated it.’

‘You utilised it.’

‘A self-made billionaire doing a ridiculous dance for a social media challenge in my bakery?’ She snorted. ‘Damn right I filmed it. And look how amazingly it turned out.’

‘For you,’ he muttered darkly.

‘I only used it to promote the bakery. I didn’t sell your body parts on the black market.’

‘It went viral.’

‘Technically,’ she continued, as if he hadn’t spoken, ‘I didn’t film it. Mandy did.’

‘Yeah. We’re no longer friends.’’

Autumn snorted again. ‘Yeah, you two looked real enemy-like when you were bribing her to make you some cupcakes last month.’

He lifted a shoulder now, refusing to be taunted any further.

‘And besides the ridiculous dance, you actually did something sweet, too.’ Her eyes were happy. ‘You took me into your arms, spun me around, dipped me right under a wedding cake and laughed.’

‘You used that on your social media as part of a #BakeryBoyfriend campaign,’ he accused.

‘An icon was born.’

She grinned at him, and—damn it—his lips twitched. How could he resist that smile? The way it softened her eyes, lit up her face. The way it widened her full pink lips, and made her look years younger than she was.

It was enough to distract him from the fact that he was smiling. It felt like a feat. Hell, it was a feat. He didn’t think he could feel anything other than the pure panic that had fuelled his actions until he’d started speaking with her. He shouldn’t have been surprised. It had always been part of what had drawn him to Autumn, the way she made him feel. The way she made him forget.

When he’d met her at the wedding of one of his employees—which Ted had forced him to attend—he’d carried an anchor around with him. That anchor had tied itself to his ankle when he’d been six and his sister had been born with cystic fibrosis. It had grown heavier with each of his parents’ arguments. With each disappointing prognosis from Janie’s doctors.

When Janie had died, he’d just about sunk into the depths of the ocean from that anchor’s weight. It had felt as if he’d been living under water from that moment forward.

Then he’d met Autumn, and he’d felt as if he’d been given air for the first time in almost two decades. Which was why he’d allowed their relationship to go on for longer than he should have. After a year of dating, she’d brought up their future together. The year that had followed had been a slow decline into the realisation that he couldn’t have what he wanted with Autumn.

And he’d sunk right back into the ocean, reaching the floor of it when they broke up. He could almost understand why he’d looked for a lifeline in a random woman one night.

Not that it had worked. But it had brought him here again. With her. Predictably, he felt as if he was breathing again.

‘The reason I bring it up,’ Autumn said after a moment, ‘is because she’ll recognise me.’

His mind took some time to follow. ‘Okay,’ he said slowly. ‘We’re friends.’

‘Do you think she’s going to believe that?’

‘She won’t care.’

Her eyes had gone serious, and didn’t waver from his. ‘How sure are you about that?’

He searched her face. Saw what she needed to hear. ‘One hundred per cent. There’s nothing there beside this connection. The child.’

My son.

She didn’t reply immediately.

‘We’ll see.’

‘Autumn—’

‘No, Hunter,’ she interrupted with a tight smile. ‘It’s fine. If you think this isn’t going to be a problem, then I’ll help you get settled with the baby.’

For how long? He didn’t ask it. She was giving him something here. Because of it, he felt stronger. More in control. Not like every force in the world had turned on him. So he would give her something, too.

‘I’ll call you tomorrow with the details.’

‘Fine.’

‘And I’ll leave.’ He stood, then stilled when she shook her head. ‘What?’

‘It’s after midnight. You’re physically and emotionally drained. You can’t leave.’

His heart thumped. ‘What’s the alternative?’

‘You stay here. In the spare bedroom,’ she said wryly, when his mouth curved. He’d been planning on teasing her—heaven only knew why—and she’d caught him in it.

Instead, he said, ‘I don’t have to do that.’

‘Yes, you do. I’m not interested in getting phone calls about your death.’ Now she stood, picked up the tray. ‘Down the passage, third door to the left.’ Her eyes met his. ‘I’ll see you in the morning.’

CHAPTER FOUR

‘WAS THAT—? DID I see Hunter’s car leave as I drove in?’ Mandy asked as she walked into the bakery’s kitchen the next morning.

Autumn’s back was facing Mandy, so she allowed herself a quick breath and silent moan that Hunter hadn’t left before her pastry chef had arrived at work. The rest of her team were already there, bustling in and out of the kitchen as they prepared for the breakfast rush that would soon begin. Autumn took another breath, then turned to Mandy with a smile.

‘Yes,’ she said brightly. ‘He came over last night for dinner.’

Mandy’s eyes narrowed. ‘And he’s only leaving this morning...?’

‘We finished late, and we’d been drinking.’

‘Hmm.’

Ignoring the disbelieving tone of the woman she considered a friend, Autumn quickly changed the subject.

‘Give me highlights of what I missed this weekend. Then tell me how the Thompson wedding cake is coming along.’

‘Good morning to you, too.’

‘You were the one who came in here without a greeting.’

Mandy sent her a look, then launched into a concise report as she got ready for work. It had been that kind of efficiency that had helped Mandy work her way up to pastry chef in the six years since Autumn had started the bakery.

If she was honest, it felt like longer than that. Perhaps because she’d spent most of her childhood in the kitchen. At first, it had been out of curiosity. She’d strolled down to the kitchen as the staff had been preparing for one of her parents’ numerous parties, and had found herself hypnotised.

The pastries had drawn her attention almost immediately. She’d loved the colours and the smell of them; wondered at the skill and caution they were being decorated with. When one of the chefs had encouraged her to join in, starting her off slowly, patiently, she’d fallen in love with the creation process. And her parents’ parties had become a way for her to participate in something she loved.

Later, it had been a chance to contribute to the functions in the only way she could. When she’d got older she’d realised the parties weren’t only social events, but networking opportunities. Autumn didn’t have Summer’s business acumen, nor did she have the professional knowledge her father had invested into her sister. She couldn’t talk potential foreign or domestic clients. She had no idea about the details of global merchandise and distribution.

So she baked. And when she left the kitchen, she charmed. And felt like a failure for it.

The smell of sweetness and coffee mingled with the faint freshness of the fields around the bakery usually comforted her. Today, her thoughts turned them sour. For a moment, they even tarnished the efforts she’d put into creating her bakery. The stained cement floors and wooden panelling looked dull. The natural light and countryside atmosphere she’d incorporated when renovating the barn felt kitschy. So did the neat rock-filled paths leading to the bakery; the gardens beyond it.

She’d thought it such a good idea. A cute bakery and café with great food and even better desserts a short trip outside Cape Town that felt like the middle of nowhere. Now, she doubted it. Her memories of growing up tended to do that.

They were always accompanied by the comparisons, starting much earlier than she could even remember. All she knew was that the visits to Bishop Enterprises hadn’t been for her benefit. That her questions hadn’t been answered in the same way that Summer’s had. That the there, there nature of the response to her complaints to her mother had been meant to placate her. And that being sent to the kitchen to ‘bake something’ had been to distract her.

Any desire she might have had to join the family business had been stifled then already. But it had been well and truly shattered after her father’s affair.

When Summer had found out Trevor Bishop had cheated, she’d pulled away from him. From Autumn and their mother, too. Autumn knew now that was because Trevor had asked Summer to keep the affair a secret, which had been a burden Summer had carried with her for years. Autumn had only discovered that this past weekend, at their parents’ thirtieth anniversary.

It had upset her. Not because of her father’s actions, though those weren’t great. No, she was upset that Summer had kept the truth from her. And she was worried about what she’d done to bring that about.

Autumn was sure Summer didn’t know she harboured a tiny bit of resentment towards Summer because their parents preferred her. But what if she did know?