She hadn’t been important enough to be privy to anything other than that. So what did that make her, a common groupie? She felt stupid. She’d thought they were so much more than that.
He went on. “My family doesn’t know.”
About her? Or...
“They don’t know you’re Nolan Forte?”
He shook his head. “My oldest brother might suspect, but no, no one knows.”
“You just disappear and they have no idea where you are?”
“Pretty much.”
She had no idea what to do with that. So she focused elsewhere. He’d said “oldest brother.” “How many brothers do you have?”
Her curiosity wasn’t healthy. Still, she waited for his answer. Wondering if he’d answer.
“Three.”
Wow. Four boys. For a second there, she was imagining a nice brick two-story somewhere with trampled grass and a basketball hoop hooked to the garage. Nolan was out there with his brothers, topping a couple of them, showing them how the game was played.
“I’m the youngest of the boys.”
The imaginary video in her mind skidded to a halt and gave an instant replay. A little kid stood there now, watching the big guys play, wanting to play with them, but they wouldn’t let him.
“I also have three sisters.”
The mental video player disappeared. She stared at him. She’d thought they were both virtually alone in the world. Who, with a huge family, would be spending Christmas alone on the road, playing saxophone in a bar?
And then something else horrifying occurred to her. Maybe it should have before. Maybe in the darkest alleys in her mind it had.
“Are you married?”
“What?” His mouth dropped open and he frowned. “Are you kidding? Of course not! I wouldn’t have...” He shook his head.
She felt like smiling. The sensation passed almost immediately.
He wasn’t like her—mostly alone. Distance started to grow between her and the man she’d fallen so hard for the year before.
The man whose baby she’d had.
“My real name is Fortune.” He said the words like they were a death sentence.
Feeling bereft at the loss she’d just suffered, finding out that they were not kindred spirits in the world of those with no family with whom to share the holidays, she shook her head. And then asked, “Is that your first name or your last name?”
“Last.” His brow was still furrowed. She didn’t much care. “You know my first name. It’s Nolan.”
So he’d only half lied on that one. She nodded, wishing that she’d never come out to talk to him a second time. Hoping to God that Carmela didn’t betray her again and bring Stella back before she texted the okay.
Carmela... Her boss, the architect Keaton Fortune Whitfield... “Is your family into architecture?” It couldn’t be. Stella was related to Carmela’s boss?
“My family owns a financial investment firm in New Orleans. I work there.”
She watched his mouth move. Wasn’t sure she was taking in what he was saying.
“So you aren’t related to Keaton Fortune Whitfield, the architect?” She suddenly wanted him to be the architect’s cousin or something. Carmela liked and respected her boss.
Then she remembered... Keaton was an illegitimate son of a billionaire. It had been all over the news.