Julianne’s parents had passed away years ago, and Marissa had been overseas for nearly as long. So friends like Anita and the rest of the orchestra were Julianne’s only family. Her musical family had propped her up through the tragedy of Marissa’s death. They’d secured substitutes to fill in for her when she’d traveled to Afghanistan right after Marissa was killed. And they’d stood by her on bad days. Sometimes it seemed as if the bad days would never end.
Music had always been her solace, the one orderly constant she could grab on to when her world was crumbling under her feet. Now she’d come to appreciate her musical family as much, if not more. They gave her a foundation in between the notes, during those rough, silent times when she didn’t know how on earth she’d survive.
Then there was Liam, who, in the three short months he’d been with her, had become the center of her world. When she brought him home, her colleagues had lent her a crib, high chair, and playpen; they’d given gifts of baby clothes and offered gentle advice.
If not for her musical family…
Well, she didn’t even want to contemplate the what-ifs. Reality was harsh enough. She blinked away the thought just as Liam unleashed another protest.
“I know, pumpkin.” She kissed his temple, inhaling the sweet baby scent of him and tugged his coat zipper as high as it would go. “This isn’t much fun is it? Even if you are going to meet your…daddy.”
Saying that powerful word out loud caused a vague uneasiness to shimmer to the surface of the murky emotions that had emerged since meeting Alex yesterday.
She hugged Liam a little closer and squinted at the chestnut trees in the distance. When she spied a tall man with light hair among the people in the park, her stomach did a fast, nervous turn, but it only took seconds for her to realize it wasn’t him. Him.
Maybe he wasn’t coming.
Maybe he’d changed his mind.
Julianne shivered against a sudden gust of wind.
Yesterday, she’d left Alex’s office convinced he was telling the truth. That he didn’t know about Liam, but he did want to be part of his son’s life. While that revelation helped where Liam was concerned, it tore a dark, gaping hole in the already-bruised place in her heart that ached for her sister.
Marissa, the sister she’d so admired, had lied about Alex’s noninvolvement.
There was so much she still needed to sort out. She just couldn’t process everything right now. She didn’t know if being around Alex would help or make things more confusing. But even worse was the thought that he’d stand them up.
She wasn’t asking him to share custody, she simply needed Alex to contribute and, for the boy’s sake as he grew older, to show that he cared.
Time was of the essence. Paris was the last stop on the orchestra’s European tour. The day after they played their concert, which was scheduled for tomorrow night, she and Liam would board a plane and head home with the rest of the musicians.
Suddenly Liam stiffened and erupted into a full-blown wail.
“Shh,” she whispered gently. “Don’t cry, honey.” She reached into the diaper bag, which hung on the back of the stroller, pulled out a blanket and did her best to drape it over the boy with her one free hand. He burrowed down into it, resting his little head on the spot on her chest that ached for Marissa. His eyes were so heavy, yet with each gust of wind, with every peal of laughter and boisterous outburst of the kids merrily sailing boats in the fountain, he’d jerk awake and whimper.
She wanted to say, “I know exactly how you feel, sweet boy. I want to cry, too,” but instead, she whispered. “Let’s go. We’ll call him and reschedule.”
She was turning to leave when she thought she spied Alex’s tall, lanky frame hurrying across the green.
Or maybe we won’t.
Alex waved to Julianne, who stood next to the Grand Bassin with a stroller by her side and what looked like a bundle of blankets hugged close to her chest. It had to be the boy—his son. Though he couldn’t see him through the mound of cloth.
The thought that his child was only a few paces away unleashed an anxious sensation in the pit of his stomach, the likes of which he’d never known—even when his job had taken him to some unsettling situations.
They looked like Madonna and Child standing there, he thought, as he closed the distance between them.
“Sorry to keep you waiting,” he said. “I was detained by a telephone call. I realized I had neglected to get your cell number, so I couldn’t call and let you know I was going to be late.”
Beneath a curtain of dark bangs, Julianne studied him with ice-blue eyes. She wasn’t smiling, and the Madonna sweetness he thought he’d glimpsed as he approached was replaced by a demeanor that felt more remote. She seemed quite different from her sister. Marissa had been a passionate, strawberry blond ball of fire.
Granted, he was late and he’d only known Julianne for a single day, but his impression of her was that she was a woman of quiet reserve.
One of the things that made him good at his job was his ability to sum up people correctly in a flash. It was a gut feeling—a sixth sense—and usually it wasn’t wrong. That’s why he’d pretty much accepted Julianne’s claims at face value. His gut told him she was telling the truth. Still, he was too accustomed to the importance of accurate fact-checking. After she’d left he’d set his sources on the task to verify that she was indeed Marissa Waterford’s sister and that Marissa had given birth when and where Julianne claimed.
It all checked out.
Even Liam’s blood type, which was compatible with his own.
“Calling would’ve been nice,” she said, a cool edge to her voice.
Now, his gut was telling him this woman was a dark, proud ice queen—with stunning blue eyes. Although why that last bit should even enter his brain at a time like this, he didn’t know.
“We were just about to leave,” her voice was frosty. “Liam is cold and tired. He missed his nap today.”
At the sound of his name, the boy lifted his head off her chest and peered out from under the blanket. When his eyes met Liam’s for the first time, Alex was taken aback by the commotion that reared up inside him. This was his son.
Right here.
The boy regarded him with sleepy brown eyes that were unmistakably Marissa’s. So were the strawberry blond curls that sprang out from under the hood of his jacket as if attempting a brash getaway.
But what floored him was the dimple in the boy’s little chin and a particular set of his tiny jaw. Alex wasn’t sure if it was the penetrating way Liam stared at him or whether it was the intent way the boy pursed his lips, but something in his face gave Alex the sensation that he was looking at a living baby picture of himself.
His heart rate quickened and for a moment, all he could do was gape at the boy. Alex was…a father.
This was his son.
Part him. Part Marissa.
A woman who’d lied and robbed him of his son’s first year of life.
A woman who’d died doing humanitarian work.
How could a decent man hold a grudge against a dead woman?
Suddenly, a lump of emotion seemed to block his windpipe. Alex cleared his throat hoping it would allow him to breathe again. Then he sucked in a great gulp of air.
“Hi, Liam,” he heard himself utter, unsure of where the words came from. “I’m your…father.”
Unsure of whether to reach for him.
Or not.
Unsure of how to go about it if he did.
He’d never held a baby. His brothers didn’t have kids yet. Luc and Sophie had been married a little over a year and had just announced that they were expecting their first child. Henri was a well-confirmed bachelor allergic to the thought of marriage, much less bringing another life into the world.
Though, obviously one didn’t have to be married to have a…son.
“Would you like to hold him?” Julianne held Liam out to him, as if reading his earlier thoughts. “Here, he’s kind of he
avy.”
Alex took Liam from her, and was surprised by how solid and sturdy the boy’s small frame felt in his big, clumsy hands.
The boy squirmed. Alex brought him to his chest, shifting awkwardly, wrapping one protective arm around him and supporting his diapered bottom with the other.
His touch must’ve been too rough because the boy let loose a piercing wail that startled a flock of pigeons, causing them to kick up dirt and gravel as they took flight, scattering in all directions. Liam cried and reached for Julianne.
This wasn’t going well at all.
“He’s tired and cold.” Her voice sounded apologetic. Even after yesterday’s dealings, it was the first time she’d allowed him to glimpse a softer emotion in her.
“Right. Sorry.” He handed the baby back to her. “I guess meeting here wasn’t such a brilliant idea. I should’ve taken the weather into account when I suggested it.”
There was an awkward pause as Liam settled down, snuggling into Julianne, resting his little head on her shoulder. Seeing them like that, it dawned on him that she couldn’t be a complete ice queen if the boy was so fond of her.
Maybe he needed to step back and reframe the situation.
“Would you like to go get some coffee?” Alex suggested. “Perhaps Liam could have hot chocolate to warm him up.”
She shook her head. “He’s too young for hot chocolate.”
“Really? I thought all kids drank hot chocolate or at least chocolate milk. I didn’t realize there was an age restriction.”
She looked at him as if he’d suggested giving the boy whiskey.
“Technically, I guess there’s not an age restriction. If it’s going in a sippy cup, it would have to be only tepid chocolate, not hot. But really, I’m simply trying to teach him good habits.”
What the heck was a sippy cup?
“Is chocolate a bad habit?” He smiled hoping she’d realize he was simply trying to lighten the mood, not indict her. “You must not like it if you think it’s so bad?”
“I didn’t say it was evil.” Her voice was hoarse with frustration. “I happen to like chocolate very much. But I have a hard time getting him to drink regular milk. When he has chocolate milk, he doesn’t want the plain variety.”
He quirked a brow at her. “So you have given him chocolate milk before?”
She leveled him with a murderous glare, and he knew he’d gone too far.
He held up his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry. I’m just kidding with you.” He studied his shoes for a moment, searching for the words to explain. When he looked back up their gazes locked. “Also, I’m a little nervous. You see, I’ve never done this before.”
He gestured to the boy, who had fallen sound asleep on Julianne’s shoulder.
“I haven’t either.” When she lowered her gaze to look at the sleeping baby, the image of Leonardo da Vinci’s Madonna returned. She was a classic beauty with her dark hair and piercing blue eyes. How had this escaped him yesterday?
In an instant, the magnitude of all that had unfolded yesterday flooded back to him, answering his question.
As she looked up at him, she bit down on her lower lip, and a silent understanding seemed to pass between them. Neither of them knew what they were doing. Though she seemed to be a hell of a lot better at it than he was.
“Look, it’s cold out here, and I should get him inside. The best thing for him would be to take him back to the hotel. He missed his nap this morning, and he’s overtired. Would you like to walk back with us?”
“Sure. Would you like to take a car rather than walk?”
“If he’ll stay asleep when I put him in his stroller, it would probably be easier to walk. The hotel isn’t far.”
Liam stayed sound asleep after Julianne laid him down. As Alex watched her cover the boy with blankets, tucking him in all snug and warm, a powerful emotion washed over Alex. He knew in an instant that his life had just changed.
Irrevocably.
Chapter Three
“Is this your first trip to Paris?” Alex asked Julianne as they made their way along the Boulevard St. Michel toward Julianne’s hotel.
She was relieved that Liam had stayed asleep when she’d placed him in his stroller. Even though it was cold, the baby was warm and comfortable. Julianne wanted to walk back to the hotel rather than ride the short distance so that she could get some much-needed exercise. She’d been cooped up indoors for rehearsals and hadn’t had a chance to soak up much of Paris. To be honest, she realized as she walked, she wanted more time to talk to Alex—to get to know him—er—Liam’s father—because they’d have so little time together before she and the boy returned home.
“Yes, it’s my first time here,” she said. “I’ve always wanted to visit, but until this trip, the opportunity never presented itself.”
He shot her a sidelong glance and a charming smile that made her a little nervous. A fun kind of butterfly-nervous that she didn’t understand. Maybe it was being in Paris, or more realistically, maybe it was because Alex Lejardin had proven himself to be a different man than the self-involved cad she’d thought he was before she met him yesterday.
She offered him a shy smile and looked away, training her gaze on the storefront windows as she pushed the stroller along the sidewalk. The windows felt like a safe place to keep her gaze. Even though she could see his rolling reflection as it jumped from window to window as they walked by, sometimes their images made eye contact in the glass. He would smile or make a face and she would laugh—who knew he could be so funny? Other times he’d be looking straight ahead. When he wasn’t looking at her, it would spark a strange disappointment that was equally gripping and unfamiliar.
If she didn’t know better, it almost felt as though Alex Lejardin was flirting with her. Harmlessly. Nothing sleazy or suggestive. Just simple ooo-la-la, man-to-woman attention that threw her off kilter and reminded her that she was a woman who was tempted to flirt back.
And wasn’t that just like a Frenchman?
But her flirting muscles were terribly out of shape because she’d had no reason to exercise them in ages. So she stuck to the reflective “window flirting” until, as they passed a cute little dress shop, Julianne could’ve sworn she saw the Men in Black—the guys from the park—reflected in the shop window. A startled jolt shot through her. She stopped and whipped her head around to look for them.
But they weren’t there.
“What’s wrong?” Alex asked.
“Nothing.” As she stood there, she did a slow, sweeping scan of the wide street that was teeming with pedestrians and cars. It would’ve been easy for the Men in Black to get lost in the crowd. “Well, actually, strangely enough, I thought I saw someone…”
“Someone from the orchestra?”
She shook her head. “A couple of guys I thought I saw lurking around at the park when we were waiting for you. It just startled me for a moment.” Hearing herself insinuate that someone might be following them sounded a little crazy. “It must have been a trick of the light on the glass.”
Alex glanced around, as if he were trying to pick them out of the crowd, but then his eyes snared hers again, the natural light made the green rim around the iris even more pronounced. It was like looking at a kaleidoscope of amber and honey, moss and tortoiseshell.
“May I ask you a question?” he said.
She blinked and looked away because she realized she’d been staring into his eyes too long. “Sure.”
She bent down to check on Liam, to adjust his blankets and make sure he was still sleeping soundly. He was, and he looked like, an angel. The sight of him warmed her from the inside out.
“Something you mentioned yesterday at the office keeps lingering in my thoughts. You mentioned that in America the arts are struggling for funding. I’m just curious, how is it that your orchestra is able to tour Europe if funds are so tight? I’m fascinated by this. Do you mind talking about it?”
Now he was the one staring intent
ly at her, and she forced herself to look him in the eyes as they started walking again.
“A sponsor, of course.”
He nodded as if he’d already guessed as much.
“Was it a European sponsor?”
So many questions. But that was fine. Kind of nice, actually. Since they’d left the park he’d been making a genuine effort to engage her. She appreciated it, especially because small talk had never been her forte. It was nice how easily they seemed to get along now that the initial ice was broken. Their getting along would be important in the future since Alex seemed interested in being a part of Liam’s life.
“Yes, we were fortunate to be invited on a six-city, European tour arranged by the Pedersen Foundation. It’s an arts organization based in London that raises money to send orchestras on tour. Their mission is to raise awareness of the arts and culture in other nations. The concert tomorrow night is the last performance on the tour, and then we return home the day after tomorrow. It’s been the trip of a lifetime. Would you like to come to the concert? I can leave tickets for you at will call.”
“I’d love to come, but I’m happy to purchase my tickets. To support the arts.”
“That’s very generous of you, but comps are one of the few benefits of my job. I haven’t had anyone to share them with. It would be wonderful to be able to use them once on this tour.”
It dawned on her that he might want to bring a date, which put a different kind of butterfly feeling in her stomach.
“How many tickets should I leave for you?”
“Now it’s my turn to say that’s very generous of you. One ticket would be very much appreciated. Perhaps we could have a late dinner after you’re finished? If it wouldn’t interfere with Liam or another engagement you might have with the orchestra or with the Pedersen Foundation? It would be a great time to discuss plans for Liam.”
Of course he only wants to be informed of my plans for the boy. I’m thrilled that he’s interested and will definitely keep him apprised of everything that happens in Liam’s life.
“That would be lovely. Thank you. As far as I know, there’s nothing scheduled for after the concert. Although things sometimes come up last minute. Would you mind keeping the plans flexible?”
Accidental Father Page 3
