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The baby nudged the nipple out of his mouth and Darius pulled the bottle away. He sat him up a bit then waited a few seconds before he offered it again. Gino latched onto the nipple, and the room became eerily silent. This time he couldn’t blame it on the repercussions of his pushing her into talking about her baby. There was a second elephant in the room and he had to get rid of it, too.
With a glance at Gino to make sure he was still suckling, he said, “I’m also sorry I kissed you. It won’t happen again.”
She stared out the window, saying nothing, and he wanted to groan at his stupidity. Kissing her had been a ridiculous, in-the-moment impulse that he should have thought through. Instead, he’d let his hormones rule him.
But rather than tell him to go to hell, or that he was an immature ass, she quietly said, “How do you know it won’t happen again?”
He had no option but the truth. “Because it’s not a good idea for either of us. We have to spend the next eighteen years dealing with each other as we raise this baby. If we started a relationship that fizzled, one of us would end up angry or hurt and that’s not good for Gino.”
Whitney stared outside though she didn’t actually see anything. It was the second or third time he’d given Gino preference in a conversation. It had surprised her the morning before when he’d said he wanted to be a great dad. But after the way he’d behaved while waiting for the pediatrician—protective, strong—she knew he wasn’t faking it, wasn’t saying these things to make himself look good or get her into his corner. He intended to be a good father to his half-brother.
She peeked over at him. He wore jeans and a baggy gray sweatshirt and looked absolutely gorgeous in a casual, athletic way. His short hair wasn’t exactly mussed; it simply wasn’t combed as it usually was for a day of work, and wisps fell to his forehead boyishly. His typically stern face was relaxed. Neither a frown nor a smile graced his mouth.
She’d kissed that mouth.
He’d held her against him.
She’d faintly felt his heart beating beneath the fisherman’s sweater.
She could have tumbled over the edge the night before, could have done something really out of character, really wrong. But fate had stopped them. He’d said he didn’t want it to happen again, and she believed him. Not just because his first priority was Gino, but because of the conversation afterward. He now knew she came with baggage. She might as well have dressed in dynamite. There’d be no way a man who could have any woman he wanted would go near a woman with her kind of past.
Which was good.
Sad, because she’d finally begun to relax around someone; but good because she’d panicked the night before. She hadn’t known how to stop. She’d gotten in over her head. If Joni hadn’t come in, she could have messed up royally.
Her priority was to uphold Missy’s wishes and to do that she had to be objective. Not get involved with her co-guardian. She also wasn’t ready for a relationship. Burn had hurt her. No, Burn had cost her her ability to trust. As nice as Darius Andreas seemed to be, as good as he clearly wanted to be with Gino, an intimate relationship was a totally different thing. God only knew if he had the ability to have one. And God only knew when she’d be ready to have one.
Glancing at Gino’s bottle, she saw it was empty, and walked over to the rocker. “Here,” she said, easing the bottle out of Gino’s mouth and Darius’s hold. “You have to burp him now.”
Darius sat perfectly still. Didn’t let her perfume affect him. Wouldn’t let himself wonder if her skin was as soft as it looked. Wouldn’t let his mind wander back to the kiss the night before. He’d made a promise of sorts to her that she would be safe in his company, and he intended to keep it.
“Lift him to your shoulder the way I showed you yesterday morning.”
He did as she instructed, but kept his gaze averted. They really were like gasoline and a match when they got too close, and the best way to handle it would be to keep their distance. But if he wanted her to teach him about the baby, that wasn’t possible. His only alternative was simply to control himself.
“Now, pat his back.”
He brought his hand to the baby’s small back and lightly patted twice. Gino burped.
Whitney stepped away. “He’s a good eater and a good burper. That’s usually a sign of a very healthy child. He’ll probably have this tooth in before we know it.”
Relief washed through him and he rose. But once he was standing, he realized had no idea what he was supposed to do.
“Does he go back to bed now?”
Whitney laughed softly. “Let’s hope. Otherwise, it’s going to be a long night. First let’s put some of the gel on his gums.”
Darius winced. “Sorry, I forgot.”
“You’re new and there’s a lot to remember.” She found the gel and gently applied some to the baby’s gums. He spat and fussed, but she persevered.
As she stepped away, Darius asked, “Should I lay him in the crib?”
“Actually, the best thing to do would be for you to stay on the rocker. Position him the same way you had him while you fed him, so that he’s not lying flat but is upright enough that he can breathe more easily, and just rock him until he falls asleep.”
Darius sat and positioned Gino on his lap. “Hey, little guy.”
As he set the rocker in motion, Whitney leaned against the crib. “Don’t talk too much or he’ll never go back to sleep.”
“What should I do?”
“Just keep rocking him.” She smiled. “You could also sing him a lullaby.”
Darius winced. “Yeah. Not in this lifetime.”
She laughed. “Eventually, you’ll sing. Everybody does.”
“Not me.”
“Just wait. The day will come when you’re desperate and you’ll sing.”
Chuckling softly, Darius shook his head.
In a surprising move, Whitney pushed off the crib and stooped down in front of him. He noticed that she didn’t touch either him or Gino, but she started to sing.
“Hush little baby, don’t say a word, Papa’s going to buy you a mocking bird …”
Her voice was soft, lyrical. Gino blinked his heavy eyelids and rolled his head to the side so he could look at her.
“And if that mocking bird don’t sing, Papa’s gonna buy you a diamond ring. And if that diamond ring turns brass, Papa’s going to buy you a looking glass. If that looking glass gets broke, Papa’s going to buy you a billy goat.”
As if by magic, Gino’s eyelids drooped. Whitney’s voice softened even more, and she slowed the song, as if lulling him to sleep.
“If that billy goat won’t pull, Papa’s going to buy you a cart and bull. If that cart and bull turn over, Papa’s going to buy you a dog named Rover.” Her voice softened again, the words she sang slowed to a hypnotic pace. Gino’s eyelids drooped until eventually they stayed shut.
Her song finished, Whitney rose. She nodded at Gino. “He’s asleep.”
Mesmerized by the sweet expression on her face and the casual way she’d lowered her voice and softened the song to lull Gino to sleep, Darius only stared at her. “He is?”
“He is.” She headed for the door. “Good night.”
“Good night.”
Darius rose and put Gino in the crib. Sadness seeped into his soul. He’d bet she’d been the perfect mother.
Sunday morning, when Darius heard Gino cry, he popped up in bed again. He jumped into the same jeans and sweatshirt he’d worn the night before and raced into the nursery just as Mrs. Tucker finished changing the baby.
“He’s feeling a lot better this morning.” She caught
Darius’s gaze. “I’m sorry I didn’t hear him wake up last night.”
“That’s okay. Whitney and I took care of him.”
Before Mrs. Tucker could answer, Whitney entered the room. Their eyes met across the nursery and all he could think of was her singing to Gino the night before. The sweet motherly affection he’d heard in her voice. The easy way she’d used the song to lull Gino to sleep. And he suddenly understood why Missy had chosen her for her baby’s guardian. Whitney was born to be a mom. She really would be Gino’s mom. Not a substitute, not a guardian, but a real mom.
Just as he intended to be a real dad.
He could picture them two or three or even six years from now, as the perfect parents. He could see them standing with their arms around each other’s waists, waving to Gino who rode his bike along the big circular driveway in front of the house.
He shook his head to dislodge that image. It was one thing to parent a child together. But they didn’t need to have their arms around each other’s waists. They had to be objective. They couldn’t have a relationship. He had a conglomerate to run. A life that kept him so busy he’d barely have time to squeeze this baby in. But he would. Gino would become his family. And after that there would be no time left for anyone else. Which made him the absolute worst choice of men for Whitney to get involved with. Now that he knew her past, he also knew she needed someone to love her, to understand her, and he simply had too much on his plate already. He would ignore signs that she needed to talk, or signs that she was feeling sad, or signs that she simply needed to be held. And he would hurt her.
She broke eye contact and strolled a little closer to the baby. “Good morning.”
“Good morning,” Mrs. Tucker chirped. “Here’s the bottle,” she said, offering both the baby and the bottle to Whitney.
Darius raced over, understanding now why she hesitated. Being Gino’s guardian was probably a living hell for her, yet she’d accepted the job and planned to do it. “I’ll take him.”
Mrs. Tucker put Gino in his arms and glanced at her watch. “If you don’t mind, I need to go now. Two of the maids are new and we don’t really have a schedule yet.” She smiled like the happy employee that she was, causing Darius to notice just how weary, how sad Whitney was in contrast. “If you need me, I can be free again after breakfast.”
With the baby and the bottle in Darius’s hands, Mrs. Tucker turned away and walked out of the nursery.
He sat on the rocker and gave Gino the nipple as he had the other times he had fed him. Gino latched on greedily and sucked down the milk. Whitney walked around the nursery, glancing at toys and knickknacks scattered on the shelves. She didn’t say anything and, try as he might, Darius couldn’t think of anything to say either.
When Gino was finished with his breakfast, Darius burped him like a pro then rose from the rocker. “So what do we do now? Put him back to bed? ”
Whitney smiled slightly. “I’m guessing he just woke up before we walked in. So he should spend some time downstairs.”
Panic fluttered through him. “Downstairs? With his gums just waiting to put him in severe pain again?”
“Of course. He still needs his cereal and I’m guessing he’ll want to play a bit. In fact it’s good to entertain him and make him happy for as long as we can.”
Panic was replaced by fear. Yes, he’d rocked this kid, fed this kid, even changed a diaper—much to his horror—but he wasn’t capable enough to be alone with a potentially sick baby all morning.
“Ready?”
He peeked over at Whitney. “You’re coming with us?”
“Sure.”
That’s when he saw it. The sadness that hummed through everything she did was sometimes eclipsed by very normal behavior, but it was still there.
And everything she did for Gino undoubtedly reminded her of the baby she’d lost.
CHAPTER SIX
DARIUS WAITED UNTIL they were seated at the table in the sunroom for lunch, while Gino was napping, before he broached the subject they’d come to Montauk to discuss—how they’d share custody of Gino. The wall of windows brought in the broad expanse of the ocean, sloshing sloppily, with no rhyme or reason or organization, against the shore. The scent of warm clam chowder wafted around them comfortingly, but Darius felt more like the ocean. Disjointed. Uneven. Unable to get his bearings.
Not only did he feel uncomfortable about pushing her to tell him about her family, but he also felt awful for her loss. Technically, he and Whitney would be connected for the next eighteen or so years of their lives, maybe longer. Gino would love her as a mother, and, he hoped, love him as a father. But their lives were so different he wasn’t really sure it was possible for them to find common ground.
She’d been married, been a mom and now lived in a loft in Soho and worked at a law firm. He’d spent his entire adult life running from marriage and being groomed to manage a huge conglomerate. He also had an apartment in the city, but Gino had a nursery at this estate, so Darius genuinely believed it was better for him to get rid of his apartment and live here. If Whitney really wanted to make the commitment to Gino that Darius believed she should make, then she should want to give up her loft and live here too.
The three of them living together was the only way to ensure that Gino saw both of his guardians and also lived something of a normal life. Still, he couldn’t hit her with that yet—especially not after the way he’d pushed her the night before. The way he had this figured, the best thing to do would be try to get her to agree to stay another week, or maybe two weeks, and then continue to tack on a week or two at a time until she realized, as he had, that Montauk was Gino’s home.
Because the following day was Monday, the end of the weekend, there was no time left for delay. He had to persuade her to stay an entire week or maybe two and he had to do it now.
He casually picked up his napkin. “I’m glad we decided to spend the weekend here, getting to know the baby.”
She met his gaze, her pretty blue eyes cautious.
“It was good for him to be in a settled environment—especially since this is his home, or had been when his parents came to New York.”
She didn’t even hesitate. “Absolutely.”
“So you wouldn’t mind saying a little longer?”
“How much longer?”
With her being so agreeable, it seemed a shame to ask for a week or two, when a month would be better for Gino. “How about a month?”
“A month!”
“Or six weeks.” Going with his usual tactic of surprising his opponent by asking for more rather than backpedaling, he forged on. “This is Gino’s home. He needs to be somewhere he feels safe. Since he spends half his day sleeping, I also think it’s important he be in his own crib. We’re adults. I think we can make an adjustment or two for him.”
“Okay.”
She surprised him so much he forgot they were negotiating. “Okay? ”
“Yes. We have to hire a nanny, and I need time to turn my spare bedroom into a nursery. So, yes. It makes sense to keep Gino here where he’s happy until I can get some of that done.”
Dumbstruck, he said nothing.
She ate a spoonful of soup. “Layla liked being in her own crib. Especially when she was sick.”
Layla. Her casual use of the name shook him. But the very fact that she’d said it so nonchalantly told him he had to be every bit as casual. Not make a big deal out of it. Not ask questions that didn’t fit into their conversation about Gino. Even though he was burning up with them.
How could a man not remember he had his child with him?
How did a woman deal with the grief, the guilt, of not noticing her husband was slipping over the edge?
Though he tried to hold them back, they tore at him until he couldn’t stop himself from asking, “How did you deal with it?”
“What?”
Recrimination roared through him, telling him he shouldn’t push her again, but he was unable to stop himself. “Your loss. How did you deal with such a monumental loss?”
She glanced up at him. “Therapy.”
He shook his head. “Dear God. It must have been awful. I am so sorry.”
