New York Engagement Read online

  Awww. Though Blake hadn’t proposed officially yet, his mention of elopement told her of his intentions. “Thank you, Craig. I’m happy to have two new brothers, too.” She gave his cheek a kiss, then stretched her arms over her head. “Up.”

  She’d only wanted him to pull her to her feet, but he turned around and gestured to his back. “Hop on. I’ll give you a ride.”

  Too used to being bigger than normal in her home country, Krista started to protest. Then she thought better of it. Compared to Craig, she was small. Wrapping her arms around his neck, Krista hopped on, her legs around his waist, for the first piggy-back ride of her life. “Giddyap. Yee-haw!”

  Craig chuckled. “Wrong state, lass.”

  “Oops! Sorry.” She dropped her chin to his shoulder and used it to nudge his ponytailed hair aside. “Hey, are you single? I’ve got this friend named Angela. She’s always in Koh Samui. I’ll introduce you to each other.”

  “Angela?” He paused in his stride across the pub. “Uhm, I’m actually not dating right now.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry. My gaydar is nonexistent. I didn’t know you ... Whoa!” Krista nearly fell off his back. Craig laughed so hard, his shoulders shook with the rumble of his mirth.

  “Put me down.” When he obeyed, she demanded, “What’s so funny?”

  “I’m not gay.”

  “O ... kay? The way you said ‘Angela,’ I thought the idea of going out with a woman did not appeal.”

  “Not right now.” His eyes turned bleak again. “My girlfriend just died last September. She was from Thailand. That’s why I moved there.” He bowed his head, hiding his grief.

  She squeezed his arm. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

  “Thank you.” He raised his chin, but kept his face averted. “Do you want to ride again?”

  Not wanting to intrude further in his sorrow, she stepped back. “No, thank you. I can walk now.”

  Hands in his pockets, eyes fixed on the floor, he said, “I’m going back to the kitchen. Check if everything’s put away properly. Tell my brothers I’ll head home.”

  “Sorry to make you sad. See you tomorrow.”

  He lifted a hand to wave and left.

  ***

  “How’s the pub doing?” Aidan asked from his spot beside the window in the pub’s office. Why he needed to stand there mystified Blake. It didn’t look out to anything other than a dark alley. Unless he was checking to see if a vagrant sought shelter from the miserable weather in the narrow space. At close to midnight, with no moon in the sky and no street light reaching it, the alley was the perfect hiding place.

  “Fine. Not much profit, but no massive losses, either.” He reclined on the chair Uncle Jack usually occupied. His father’s partner was the numbers guy, Da the ideas person. The oldest O’Connor kept a meticulous record. Blake had only needed to enter the previous night’s receipts when he came in. He helped bus the tables once he’d done that, and he’d just closed the books on tonight’s intake before Aidan entered.

  The solvency of the pub relieved Blake of worry. With his investment in a resort in Boracay, he didn’t have many assets to liquidate to help his parents if the pub had financial troubles. His other partners had been making noises about branching out in Palawan and in Quezon, the province where Krista’s parents lived.

  The reminder of Marissa and Arsenio Lopez had Blake massaging his temples.

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah, just a headache. It’s been a hell of a day.” They’d stopped service at the pub at ten, four hours earlier than normal for this season. After last night’s incident, everyone was spooked and wanted the safety of hearth and home, especially his parents. Blake and his brothers had sent them and Darcy home as soon as the last customer left, with the promise to close the pub.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Summer. It wasn’t my secret to share.” A rare admission of fault from his big brother. Surprising.

  “I understand that. I’m relieved I wasn’t the one who caused her to turn gay.”

  “Maybe you did. Sex with you was so bad, she swore off men forever.” He guffawed.

  Ass. Blake let Aidan laugh at his expense. He needed to share his dilemma with his confidant.

  After a couple of minutes, Aidan’s hilarity subsided.

  Blake blurted out, “Krista thinks Uncle Jack might be her biological father.”

  “I guessed from her insistence on donating blood. What’s your beef about it?” As if bracing for a long talk, Aidan adjusted his stance against the wall, leaning his frame fully onto it and crossing his arms in front of his chest.

  “No beef. I support her one hundred percent. Just worried. It’ll hurt a lot of people. Her parents, Tita Belen, Krista herself. She’ll be devastated if he is and doesn’t acknowledge her. Worse if he’s not, because she’s building her hopes around him. The fallout will be a mess.”

  “You’re being overprotective. Krista is an intelligent, levelheaded woman. She’s thirty, not eighteen.”

  “I know that, but she’s letting her heart rule. She’s carpe diem-ing the hell out of this.”

  “Didn’t she do the same when she hooked up with you? You weren’t exactly acceptable to her mother.”

  Ouch. Direct hit. He really shouldn’t have told his brother everything. “That’s different.”

  “It’s not. She needs to know her roots. Both of you do. If you’re going to marry her, you have to know her background for the sake of your future children.”

  We’ll have beautiful children. Blake relaxed. Aidan made sense, as usual. “Not if, when.”

  “Have you proposed? I don’t see a ring on her finger. You’re doing it wrong, bro.”

  “Like you’d know anything about that.”

  “I don’t. Who watched all the romcoms with Ma? You should know how to do this shit.”

  “Fuck off. I have a plan.”

  “Tell Krista, not me.

  “I will. Soon. After this business about Uncle Jack is cleared up.”

  The door swung open.

  “Where is she?” Patrick O’Connor barked. Heightened color matted his skin, and temper flashed in his brown eyes.

  Blake got to his feet and moved to stand beside his brother. He mimicked Aidan’s stance, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

  “And a good evening to you too, Patrick. Who are you looking for?” Blake suspected the younger man sought Krista. Darcy said he’d planned to go to the hospital first. Tita Belen must have shared the reason for her antipathy for Krista with her older son.

  “The b— The impostor. She made my mom cry.” Patrick sounded like an overgrown brat.

  Blake had to restrain himself from decking the younger man right there and then. His tone was clipped when he replied, “We don’t know of any impostor around here.”

  “Blake, honey, can we go —”

  Patrick blocked Krista’s way in. “You! Mom said you’re back and you’ve managed to con the Ryans into thinking you’re someone else.” He stabbed the air with his finger. “Well, Maire, too bad for you I lost my last tournament. You’re not going to get a red cent out of me.”

  Krista’s eyes bugged out and her mouth hung open. “What? First, I don’t know who you are. Based on your attitude, I am not sorry you lost whatever tournament you’re talking about. Second, this is my first time in the US, my name is Krista, and I’ve never pretended to be anybody else in my life.”

  That’s my girl. Blake couldn’t stop the smile that spread across his face. He’d seen this side of his girlfriend once, when she thought he’d deemed her unsuitable for Boracay. She was magnificent then, more so now.

  “She’s telling the truth, Kuya Patrick,” Ronan said from behind Krista. “You should have talked to me before rushing over here, making accusations.” He stepped forward to stand beside Krista, as if declaring his alliance with her. “You’ve never met Maire. I have. And I’m sure Mom did not use the word ‘con’ in referring to Krista.”

  Patrick kept hi
s belligerent stance. If anything, he looked angrier now that he’d been scolded by his younger brother in front of a stranger. “How do you know she’s telling the truth? Maybe she’s more professional than Maire.”

  “Because she is who she says she is: Maria Krista Lopez, born on November 2nd, over thirty years ago in Pampanga to Marissa and Arsenio. Currently senior financial analyst at Blake’s company.”

  “You ran a background check on my girlfriend?” Though he understood Ronan’s motivation, he still felt mildly annoyed.

  “She’s clean,” Aidan declared.

  Blake scowled at his brother, who only lifted an eyebrow. Of course Aidan had run Krista. He worked in Intelligence. His approval of Krista as his future wife clearly stated his opinion of her trustworthiness.

  “Look, can we sit? This is a long story, and I’ve already put in eight hours today.” Ronan gestured to the chairs in front of the desk, asking Krista to precede him.

  Blake held out his hand to his girlfriend. He tsked upon seeing the adhesive bandages on several of her fingers. She mouthed, “I’m fine,” before sitting down and waiting for Ronan to explain.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN - Hudson River

  “I’ll stand.” The sullen announcement came from Ronan’s older brother. He’d closed the door and leaned his shoulder against it.

  Krista gave Patrick a side-eyed glance and tossed her hair, still fuming over his accusations. As if she’d ask for money from him. Who the hell does he think he is?

  “I take it you met my mom this morning.” Ronan sat opposite her on the other chair.

  “Yes. She ... uhm...” She trailed off, unsure how to describe Belen’s behavior towards her without offending the older woman’s sons. The other was already mad at her.

  “She gave you the cold shoulder. Was probably rude.”

  “A little bit,” Krista admitted.

  “I noticed that,” Blake remarked from behind her. “Why did she freak when she saw Krista?”

  Ronan rubbed the back of his neck before letting out a harsh breath. “A few years ago, a woman appeared at the pub claiming to be Dad’s daughter. Called herself Maire. Said she was named after his maternal grandmother. Turned out to be a con job. She didn’t bleed them dry, but the incident made them wary, particularly Mom. She must have thought it was happening all over again when she saw you. Another one of Dad’s by-blows come to claim him.”

  Krista couldn’t quite silence her gasp with her hand over her mouth. Another? How many were there?

  “When did this happen?” Blake demanded.

  “Right about the time Uncle Sean and Aunt Giulia went to visit you in the Philippines.”

  “Did my parents know?”

  “Probably afterwards. When they got back. I don’t think those four keep many secrets from one another.”

  Krista leaned forward. “How did they find out she was a fraud?”

  “They didn’t. I did. She’d been staying with them for a week already when I got back from training early. Caught her in my parents’ room, trying to open the safe. Collared her right there and then.”

  “What was her sob story, and why did Uncle Jack believe her?” Aidan butted in.

  “The usual crap. Drunken one-night stand. Apparently, Dad was a player when he was assigned to Clark. He was attracted to Filipinas, and they were attracted to him. Her mother was supposed to have been a server at a bar in Angeles City. Condom broke. When you sleep around a lot, there’s always a possibility of that happening.”

  Krista’s shoulders tensed. The story was alarmingly like her mother’s.

  “She showed a photo of Dad with his arms around her supposed mother; knew the names of the guys in the troop. There was a deathbed promise. Debts were allegedly owed for her to be able to come to the US to meet her biological father.”

  “Nothing original, but hard to disprove anything without going to the Philippines or contacting everyone in his old troop,” Aidan observed.

  “What did she look like? Why was it easy to convince your parents to fall in with her scheme?” Blake rubbed her back as he asked the question. Krista leaned into his touch, appreciating his unspoken support.

  “It was obvious she was of mixed blood: Caucasian and Asian. Black hair, brown eyes. Taller than the typical Filipina. At first glance, she looked like us,” he pointed to Patrick and himself, then at Krista, “but a closer look revealed some surgical work done.”

  “Why didn’t your parents see that?” Krista asked, unable to hide her incredulity.

  “They had always wanted a daughter. Mom miscarried a few times after me. It became dangerous for her to get pregnant, so she had her tubes tied. When this woman came along, the old wants returned. They were ready to give a twenty-seven-year-old orphan a home.”

  “What’s the true story?” Thirty-one now. Older than me.

  “It turned out most of what she claimed was true, except for the father. She’d found him a few years before. A vet who’d fallen on hard times, he was jealous of Dad’s success. They saw Kuya Patrick’s interview after he won a tournament in Ireland where he talked about his ties to the country, and they schemed to use the slight resemblance to their advantage.”

  “So it’s my fault?” Patrick interrupted. “You didn’t tell me this.”

  “Nobody is blaming you, and Mom didn’t want you to know.”

  “How’d you get rid of her?” Aidan asked Ronan, steering the conversation back to the subject of the impostor.

  “Had her declared an undesirable alien and deported. She can’t ever come back to the US.”

  “Why did you think I was her if that was true?” Krista threw out at Patrick.

  “As you heard, I didn’t know all the details. Mom asked for money and I gave it. She’s a proud woman, my mother. She doesn’t ask for herself, but for others. Her so-called Filipino friends know she has a soft spot for them, and they take advantage all the time. I’m sick of it.”

  Patrick’s voice had softened when he spoke of his mother, but his generalization of her compatriots raised Krista’s hackles.

  “Why didn’t you ask for help? I live in the Philippines. I could have verified her story,” Blake said.

  Ronan lifted his shoulders. “There was no need. We dealt with the impostor. Whatever money she managed to steal from the pub was returned in full. Dad was ashamed about his past catching up with him. Mom was angry and sad at the same time. They just wanted to forget the whole thing happened.”

  Krista had heard enough. She stood to address the O’Connor brothers. “I’m not making any claim on your father.” Only Blake knew her hopes and wants regarding Jack O’Connor. She doubted he’d told anybody else.

  “When I met you this morning, I knew right away you were not Maire. But it made me think.” Ronan got to his feet and leaned his hip on the desk.

  Krista thought he looked like he was settling in for another story. She propped her head against Blake’s shoulder. She was so tired. But Ronan seemed to have something important to say, so she decided to hear him out.

  “For months after she left, I’d often wondered if we had another sibling out there in the Philippines. I’m sure Mom and Dad thought it, too. But nobody discussed the topic again. Kuya Patrick never cared about our Filipino roots—”

  “Hey!” his brother protested.

  “It’s true, don’t deny it.” He sent a hard look in Patrick’s direction before returning his attention to Krista. “I got assigned to a task force that kept me busy for years, and I forgot about looking for a brother or sister. Until you arrived this morning. You have a way of tilting your lips up on one side when you smile that reminded me of Dad.” He paused as if he was waiting for that to sink in.

  Krista straightened. Her pulse began to accelerate.

  “That’s why I ran a background check on you. I didn’t find a lot of information except for your resume and business profile from your company website. I had to dig deeper to obtain your birth certificate. Like Aidan said, you’re clean.�
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  Aidan inclined his head in acknowledgment.

  “However, I found a picture of you with your family in the Philippines on social media. You favor your mother—all three of you do. But the man who gave you his surname couldn’t be your birth father. You don’t look anything like him, and you’re too tall to be his daughter. Your father would have to have been tall. He’s probably white, same as him.” Ronan pointed to the wall behind her.

  Krista whirled around. So fast, Blake had to reach for her arms to steady her. Anger at Patrick had blinded her to everything else in the room when she came in. Now, in front of her were photos. Of Captain John Jackson O’Connor, according to the caption. John. Jack.

  In his flight suit, standing beside a fighter jet, Jack O’Connor looked like Hollywood’s ideal military hero. Tall, close-cropped black hair, twinkling eyes, the uptilt of his lips to one side that Ronan mentioned, Jack was confidence personified.

  “He’s a handsome devil, isn’t he?” Ronan remarked beside her.

  Krista nodded, hungrily taking in all the photos, her eyes darting from one to another. Sean Ryan was in some of the same pictures, but she only peered at Jack. One particular picture made her gasp: Jack with his troop, celebrating an event of some kind. They had their arms raised; some held champagne. Jack was in the foreground, smiling broadly. Above his right eye was a scar, a thin line that slashed his eyebrow. A scar that wasn’t there in the flight suit picture but appeared in all the others, especially the later ones.

  “Ronan, do you know how he got the scar?” Krista traced it with a trembling finger. Her heart in her mouth, she waited for the answer she yearned for.

  “Dad said he got it in a fight with some thugs outside the base in the Philippines. One of them had a knife. He was happy he ducked in time. It only nicked him, otherwise he’d have gone blind.”

  “It needed stitches, but he insisted on taking me to safety first.” Krista repeated the words her mother told her many years ago about her rescuer.