She’d lost her last hope with the loss of her fourth child. Understanding came softly, but clearly. Because she was talking to someone who knew exactly when he’d lost his last hope.
Eight years before, when his mother had used the home he’d bought her to run a drug lab, implicating him in her criminal acts.
After that he couldn’t help Alana anymore. Couldn’t have anything to do with a future that involved her being out of prison and the two of them together. He’d visited her, because he loved her. Because she’d given him life. But he’d kept an emotional distance that had been necessary for his own mental health.
“There comes a time when you have to let go,” he said aloud. Whatever the cause of the emotional pain, there came a time when you knew you’d reached the end of your ability to cope. You had to turn away. Say no more. “Ryan was your time.”
Her gaze locked with his, those green eyes large, their gold rims more pronounced. “You get it.”
He did.
And while he had no idea where it left them, with Diamond Rose sleeping in the next room, he knew for certain that their meeting had been no mistake.
She’d helped him.
He was supposed to help her.
Chapter Twelve
The baby cried.
Tamara sipped her wine, telling herself that whatever spell had bound her and Flint Collins had been broken.
He was still watching her.
“You need to go get her,” she said.
He nodded. “She has to be changed and then fed,” he agreed. “It’ll take me about twenty minutes. You want to set the table in the meantime? The lasagna is due to come out in about thirty.”
Could she do this? A flash of her father’s worried face assured her she could.
“I can do that,” she told him. She’d see if he had lettuce. She could make a salad. Salad went well with Italian food. And wine.
She had another sip.
Focus. That was all it took.
That and topping off the glass of wine Flint had poured for her. Two was her limit. Or she’d have to hang around an extra hour before she drove. She found dishes. Set the kitchen table because of the gorgeous view of the pool from the bay windows.
No. Because there’d be no view at all of the baby sleeping in the living room.
She hadn’t known that was where the playpen was until Diamond Rose started to cry. Then she’d had to fight to avoid looking at the room.
But...Flint needed to see the child. For his own sake and the baby’s.
Gathering up the dishes and silverware, Tamara moved them to the dining room, placing them so he could see the living room and her back was to it.
Yes, that worked fine.
And she made salad. Cutting the carrots, peeling a cucumber, chopping onion, tearing lettuce. She did it all with precise focus. When Flint’s voice broke through her concentration, soft and from a distance, she chopped with more force. The newborn cried once. Tamara replayed in her head the conversation she’d had with her father the day before.
Diamond Rose was a precious little baby who had nothing to do with her. Tamara wanted the best for her. Hoped to God that everything worked out so Flint could continue to care for his sister. If that was what was best.
And it seemed to be.
Flint was different from any other man she’d ever met. He had an emotional awareness she’d never seen in a male before—yet he was masculine and sexy and exuded strength at the same time.
In one conversation, and a sketchy one at best, he’d understood more about her emotional struggle than Steve had in all their years of marriage.
For the first time since she’d lost Ryan, she felt understood.
By a man who might be a thief.
And since her father wasn’t planning to press charges, because of the hit his reputation—and then the company—would take if investors knew he’d been frauded, Flint should be free to raise Diamond Rose.
“She’s back to sleep.”
A piece of lettuce flew out of her hand and onto the floor when she heard his voice behind her. Focus could do that to a girl—take her right out of her surroundings.
“That’s impressive.” He was smiling as he pointed to her neat piles of chopped vegetables.
“You make your own dressing?” She’d found four jars, with varying labels, lined up in the door of the refrigerator. She’d chosen the creamy Italian to mix in before serving their salads.
“I’ve been putting meals together pretty much since I could walk, it seems,” he said. “By the time I was about eight, I couldn’t stand the sight of peanut butter sandwiches anymore, so I asked my mom to teach me to cook.”
“She was a good cook?”
“Yes, she was.”
There was hesitation in his tone. And she wondered if there was more to the story. Like, when she was sober she was a good cook. Or, when she wasn’t in jail she was a good cook. Tamara didn’t know many of the details of his growing up, but she knew enough to fill in some of the blanks with at least a modicum of accuracy.
Within minutes they had dinner on the table and were sitting down to eat. He didn’t mention the baby at all. She didn’t ask, either. But it felt...unfair, somehow, doing that to him. Making him keep such a momentous change in his life all to himself.
A friend wouldn’t do that. And posing or not, she had to be a good friend if she was going to find out more about him.
“It doesn’t send me into a tailspin to hear about babies,” she told him, spearing a bit of salad on her fork. “You can talk about her.”
“I just want to make sure I know the boundaries first,” he said. “I need to know what you can and can’t handle.”
“What I can’t do is hold her.” The words jumped out. “That’s my trigger. The rest, I can manage. I can close my eyes if it starts to get me. Or walk away.”
There. She relaxed a bit.
“But the other day...you picked her up so naturally.”
“And I’ve been paying for it ever since.” Wow...she was playing her part better than she’d ever suspected she could. She was being more honest with him than she was with anyone, including her parents.
Maybe because she knew he wouldn’t be in her life all that long? Or because he was an outsider who wouldn’t be hurt by her pain?
Maybe because she wasn’t completely playing a part?
“Paying for it how?” he asked between bites of his salad.
“The first night I think I was up more than you were.” And, based on what he’d later told her about it, that was saying a lot. “I have nightmares. And panic attacks.”
She was tempted to say she had hot and then cold flashes, since she was having another series right now. But she’d had the first one before she’d known about Diamond Rose.
Speaking of which...
“Did you name her? Diamond Rose—it’s such an unusual name.”
“No.” He finished his salad. “My mother did.”
As he started in on his lasagna, he told her about the names Gold, Flint, Diamond—and the rose. Expensive, beautiful, sweet.
And fragile, she added silently.
She’d taken her first bite of lasagna and was too busy savoring the taste to talk. She loved to cook. Considered herself good at it. He was better.
“It was the first time,” she said out of the blue. She’d just swallowed that bite. Wanted to think about the second. Another sip of wine. Or the way Flint’s shoulders filled out the black polo shirt he was wearing with his jeans. But she wasn’t. She was still thinking about that baby.
“The first time you’d held a baby?” Leave it to him to catch right on. Did the man never miss a beat?
She nodded.
“In how long?”
“Since I lost Ryan, if you don’t count the few times
we tried in my therapy sessions, which I don’t count because I never managed to hold the infant by myself.”
Fork hovering over his lasagna, he paused before skewering another bite. “How long has it been?”
“Three years.” Hard to believe it had been that long. That brought on another surge of panic. Her life was passing by so quickly.
“And how long since your divorce?”
“Two and a half years. He’s remarried.” And could be expecting a child any day or week or month.
“Are you two on friendly terms?”
“We talk.” She didn’t consider Steve a friend. He’d robbed her of her one chance to hold her son, having the baby swept away the second he’d been delivered, and asking the doctor to give Tamara something to calm her down, which had knocked her out. But their split had been amicable. Mutual. They remained...acquaintances.
She drank a little more of her wine. Had to wait a minute before sending anything more solid down her throat. Floundering, losing focus, she stared at her plate. Reminded herself what she was doing here.
“What about you and Stella? You think you’ll remain friends?”
She heard the stupidity of that question even as she asked it—since the woman had ditched him because he was taking in his mother’s child to raise. But desperation drove many things. Including stupid questions to fill the silence.
“I have no desire to. So, no.”
Okay, then. That was clear.
But her father had said that Flint’s spending habits had changed when the rich girlfriend came into his life. She had to get around to that somehow.
Or segue into offshore accounts.
She was drawing a blank.
Because she wasn’t focused.
Maybe over dessert.
* * *
He knew how he could help her. Not the details, not yet. But Flint had a goal now. Find a way to repay Tamara, or the fates, for helping him out on one of the worst days of his life.
Not quite the worst. Because in another way, it might have been the absolute best. He wasn’t alone anymore. He had a sister. A brand-new human being to raise.
He had family.
And it now seemed obvious to him that his payback was in helping Tamara heal enough to have a family of her own, too. To someday have a baby of her own to raise. There were other options if she couldn’t give birth herself.
His and Diamond Rose’s payback, really. They both owed her.
That infant sister of his already had a job to do. Because that was what you did when you planned to amount to something in life. You used the gifts you were given. You worked as hard as you could. You helped others.
The things he’d taught himself somehow. Or a message given to him subliminally in his crib.
His little sister’s talents might not be clear yet, but for now, being an infant was all it was going to take.
The connection seemed unmistakable to him. Diamond Rose, who’d been screaming her lungs out, had instantly calmed when Tamara had picked her up.
Sign one.
Sign two. Tamara, who hadn’t held a baby in years, who considered herself unable to hold one, had picked up Diamond Rose.
Still piecing things together, he had no idea how it was all going to work. What he should or shouldn’t do. But he felt confident, as Tamara helped him with the dishes, that the answers would come to him.
He had the basics down anyway.
“I should be going,” she said as soon as the dishes were done and the counters wiped. He’d put some of the leftover lasagna in a container for her. One serving was all she’d take, suggesting he put the rest in serving-size portions in the freezer, so that on nights when the baby wasn’t cooperating, he could still eat a good dinner.
He’d been freezing portions for years, but didn’t tell her that. He was too busy enjoying the fact that she was looking out for him, too. Stella had been mostly about what he could do for her, and he’d been all right with that. Even comfortable with it. And usually insisted on it.
“You want to do this again? Sunday maybe?” He felt confident asking. Some things you just knew.
“What time?”
“You name it. I’ll be working at home all day.”
She preferred afternoon to evening. He was fine with that, too.
Following her to the door, he moved closer, intending to kiss her good-night. Her expression stopped him before he’d made his intention obvious. She was worried about getting out the door without seeing the baby, not thinking about kisses.
He watched her walk to her car and only after she’d pulled out of his driveway and was out of sight did he close the door.
He really would’ve liked that kiss. To know her taste on his lips...
Probably just as well, though. He needed to get settled back into his career at Owens Investments and to learn how to be a dad before he took on any other committed relationship.
Friends was nice, though. Friends who helped each other...
Chapter Thirteen
Funny how things worked themselves out. Tamara hadn’t had a chance to learn anything on Friday night that could benefit her father. Then, on Saturday, while having lunch with the office manager at Owens Investments—a woman ten years older than her whom she’d never met before the previous week, but instinctively liked—the way in was handed to her.
Maria had been telling her about the system they used to keep up with the fast pace their traders required of them, and in so doing had explained quite a bit more than her father had done about his business. Maria had given her a pretty clear glimpse into the life of a stockbroker. As her father had said, the risks were great, mostly because laws were commonly broken, although it could be hard to prove. Insider trading being one of the most difficult.
She’d asked if Tamara had seen a movie from the late ’80s called Wall Street. She hadn’t. Maria had highly recommended that she watch it.
That night she found it on her streaming app and on Sunday showed up at Flint’s door in black-and-white leggings, a comfy oversize white top and zebra-striped flip-flops, with the movie rented and ready. All they had to do was type her account information into his smart TV and they’d be set.
“You’ve never seen Wall Street?” he asked as he brought glasses of iced tea and a bag of microwaved popcorn for them to share.
“No. It was out before I was born,” she told him. And then thought to ask, “Have you?”
Of course he would have. He was a stockbroker. And Flint seemed to study everything about anything that involved him. Like the baby, for instance. Yeah, there’d been a couple of common sense things he’d missed during his research before he’d brought his baby home, but in just those three days, he’d become better prepared than most expectant parents she’d known.
“Only about a dozen times,” he told her, taking a seat on the opposite end of the couch.
Relieved that he wasn’t closer, that she wasn’t going to have to let him know they were “just friends,” she turned to smile at him, suddenly catching sight of the Pack ’n Play in the sunken living room behind them.
Suspecting that the portable bed was there because Tamara was where she was—in the living room—she felt a crushing weight come down on her. Disappointment, yes, but far more.
A baby was being ostracized because of her.
No, that wasn’t quite true. A lot of parents kept their young children separate from the family’s activities while the child slept. That was why there were nurseries.
But it wasn’t what she would’ve done if she’d had a child. It wasn’t what she’d planned to do.
“Do you keep her in there when you’re in here watching TV at night?”
“I’m not usually in here watching TV. I spend any free time I have on the computer. Checking stocks. My job is pretty much a 24/7 affair when I don�
��t specifically schedule time for other things.”
Like watching an old movie with her?
He’d turned on the TV. Clicked on the streaming app.
“Where’s your computer?”
He nodded toward a hallway off the great-room side of the kitchen. “Down there.”
“And does she stay in the living room when you’re ‘down there’?” She mimicked him with a grin.
No response, which she’d expected. The question had been rhetorical. Of course he didn’t keep his baby in other rooms when he was there alone.
With a fancy remote that had a small phone-size keyboard on the back, he was searching for the movie. On his account.
Stood to reason that he already owned it and she’d wasted the three dollars she’d spent. Oh, well.
“You can bring her in here, Flint.” She wasn’t going to be the cause of any child being on the outside of any gathering ever. “I’m not so fragile that I can’t be in the same room as a baby. I fly on a regular basis, and you don’t get to choose who you’re seated by on a plane. I’ll be fine.”
She wasn’t convinced she would be. But at least she knew how to keep up appearances. As long as she didn’t pay attention to the baby, didn’t let Diamond’s presence pull at her. As long as she didn’t even think about picking her up.
Or doing any nurturing in a hands-on way.
“If you’re sure, I’ll bring her in. But only if you’re completely sure that’s what you want. It’s not like she’s going to know the difference. She’s out for at least another hour.”
“Like she didn’t know the difference the night you tried to get her to sleep in the nursery?”
“She’s used to me now. We’re doing much better.” His grin did things to her in inappropriate places. Probably because she was so tense about getting information for her father. And being around a newborn.
She was challenging herself personally and professionally. So it made sense that her emotions would be off-kilter.
And she might’ve been fighting off a flu bug the previous week, too. Her system could be in recuperation mode. Busy rebuilding antibodies.
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