Leila stepped back, but didn’t turn away.
He opened the car door and Leila watched as his friend sank behind the wheel and pulled out of the drive. Once the car disappeared, Garrick looked across the street and, for a brief moment, Leila believed their gazes met.
Slowly, he turned away to stroll back to his door. It was Leila’s turn to watch his stride and appreciate his well-defined body.
Emma squirmed in her chair and drew Leila’s attention. Luckily, the child remained asleep and when Leila looked out the window, Garrick was gone.
“I need to get a grip,” she mumbled, and then walked away from the window.
Roslyn loved Barbados. For the past week, she and her family had entertained fantasies of living the rest of their lives on the tranquil island. It felt good to be separated from the regular hustle and bustle of the holidays and to just enjoy the basics: her family.
She lounged on the beach’s white sand and was lulled between sleep and consciousness when her six-year-old daughter, Courtney, raced up to her from the water.
“Mommy, we forgot to call Aunt Leila again to wish her a Merry Christmas.”
Roslyn moaned lazily, not wanting to open her eyes. “It’s okay, honey. Remember, your aunt Leila doesn’t like to celebrate Christmas.”
“Well that’s just silly.” Courtney frowned. “Everyone celebrates Christmas.”
Roslyn didn’t have the heart to correct her daughter on that belief. “Trust me. Aunt Leila is probably buried with work at her office. She likes it like that.”
Courtney screwed up her face. “She works too much.”
Roslyn opened her eyes and slid off her shades. “I agree.” She looked out into the water and spotted her husband splashing around with their four-year-old daughter, Breanna, and smiled.
“What about Aunt Samantha? Are we going to call her?”
I would if I could. “Tell you what—” she sat up and took Courtney’s hand “—I can’t promise you we can reach Aunt Samantha, but let’s go and call your aunt Leila at work. Will that make you feel better?”
Courtney nodded.
Roslyn couldn’t resist pinching her daughter’s cheeks. “Okay. Let’s go give her a call.”
Leila was not enjoying the whole teething experience—and whoever invented those damn biscuits-slash-cookies that dissolved into a gooey mess needed to be shot. However, Leila’s saving grace was having an endless supply of baby wipes.
One thing for sure, she wasn’t going to get any work done at home, either. Emma made it clear that while her pediatric Anbesol was working, she wanted to be entertained. Leila exchanged her work clothes for loose-fitting sweat clothes and, in no time, nearly every inch of the living-room floor was covered with toys.
As it turned out, Emma enjoyed sticking everything she could get her hands on into her mouth. She also giggled up a storm whenever Leila blew raspberries against her belly.
The afternoon flew by and Leila forgot about work, finding a nanny, Samantha, and even Garrick. What would it be like to have a little mini me running around the house? The renegade thought carved a smile across her lips.
The telephone rang.
“Oh, who can that be?” she asked Emma, and then scooped her off the floor. “Hello.”
“Hello, Leila?”
“Sam?” Leila snapped out of her baby fog. “I’m going to kill you. Where the hell are you?”
“No. It’s me, Roslyn,” her sister corrected. “I was calling because Courtney wanted to talk with you. Wait a minute.” Roslyn’s voice morphed with concern. “Have you heard from Sam or something?”
Leila laughed. “Oh, I’ve heard from her all right.” She quickly told her sister about her surprise Christmas gift and the subsequent sleepless nights thereafter.
Roslyn fell silent.
“Hello. Are you still there?”
“Please tell me you’re joking,” her sister finally said.
Emma grabbed the phone cord and garbled out some nonsense.
“Then it’s true,” Roslyn said. “Ms. Friedman said she saw Sam with a baby, but Patrick—”
“You mean to tell me that you knew?” Leila snapped.
“I suspected, but I didn’t have any concrete evidence. I even tried to tell you—but I certainly didn’t think she’d do something like abandon the child with you. Even you have to admit that’s a bit far-fetched, even for Sam.”
Leila huffed and rolled her eyes.
“But how are you holding up?”
“How do you think? I don’t know anything about babies. Why didn’t she dump her at your place?”
“Maybe because I’m out of town,” Roslyn reasoned. “Has she been giving you much trouble?”
Leila glanced down at her wide-eyed niece and felt a tug of guilt about tattling about their transition period. “No. She hasn’t been any trouble.”
Emma flashed a wide, dimpled smile, and then tried to put the phone cord into her mouth.
“But you’re still going to be back on January second, right?”
Roslyn laughed. “I take it that you want me to take over?”
To avoid a guilt trip, this time, Leila didn’t look at her niece. “Let’s face it. You’re the more reasonable choice. You have kids. Meanwhile, I can concentrate on finding Samantha.”
“Sam is a master at the disappearing act. You’re not going to be able to find her unless she wants to be found.”
It was the truth and Leila knew it.
“But I’ll still take little Emma off your hands if you want.”
Guilt needled its way into Leila’s head. “Well, it’s just that I have a company to run and all.”
“There’s no need to explain,” Roslyn assured. “I completely understand.”
The guilt now spread through her body like a cancer; but it wasn’t as if she were lying—she did have a company to run.
“Well, I can’t wait to meet Emma,” Roslyn continued. “It will even be good to have a baby in the house again.”
Leila concluded she wasn’t feeling well. Suddenly, she was jealous at the thought that Emma would prefer to live with Roslyn rather than herself. That was silly, right?
Chapter 11
A nervous Garrick arrived for his blind date with Vanessa Hunter dressed to impress and with the customary bundle of flowers. As he approached the door, he still wasn’t certain this was something he was ready to do. Then again, was there really a right time to jump into the shark-infested waters of dating?
He drew a deep breath, said a quick prayer, and rang the doorbell. The moment he did so, he wished he hadn’t. Anxiety twisted his stomach into knots and his prepared speech jumbled in his head. Before he could do anything about it, the door opened and Garrick’s eyes traveled skyward.
“Hello. Vanessa?”
The extremely tall woman nodded, leaving him to wonder what the hell his sister-in-law was thinking. His gaze took in the woman’s broad face, wide nose and pencil-thin mustache and his mind drew a blank. While it was true that beauty was in the eye of the beholder, Garrick couldn’t behold anything past what looked like a large Adam’s apple. Surely, he was mistaken.
“Would you like to come in?” she asked in a low, husky baritone.
He stood there unable to answer the question.
“Oh, are those for me?” she asked, glancing down at the flowers.
Garrick snapped out of his reverie and broadcast a wide facial smile as he offered her the flowers. “I hope, er, you like them.”
“They’re beautiful.” Vanessa inhaled their fresh fragrance, and then glanced over their short petals to smile at him. “Tamara told me you were a gentleman.”
“It seems she forgot to tell me…” Garrick blinked and shifted gears when Vanessa’s eyebrows rose inquisitively. “She forgot to tell me how tall you are.”
Vanessa smiled. “I bet you don’t date too many women who are my height.”
“I can honestly say you’ll be the first.” His smile tightened as he contin
ued to stare at the troublesome bulge in the center of her throat.
“I better go put these in some water,” she hinted. “Do you think you’re ready to come in now?”
He hesitated again, but then convinced himself he was overreacting. “Certainly. I would love to come in.”
One of Leila’s favorite and recent purchases was a handcrafted deluxe glider rocking chair. She couldn’t remember anything that felt as good as having her niece nestled on her chest while she hummed along with a Fisher-Price lullaby monitor.
I could get used to this.
She stopped rocking and questioned her sanity. For the past six days, Leila’s life had been hijacked, her nerves frayed, and her addiction to coffee had increased tenfold. Yet, there were snatches of time, like now, when she felt this…longing.
That didn’t make any sense either. She chuckled under her breath and resumed rocking. Leila, a go-getter from birth, had accomplished everything she had ever set out to do. She was a success—despite her early circumstances.
The last thing she needed—or even wanted—was a child. The backs of her eyes stung unexpectedly, as if she was calling herself a liar. She blinked back the tears, while her thoughts shifted gears. “I would make a lousy mom,” she reasoned.
“I mean, look at me.” She shrugged. “At best I’m emotionally high-strung and at worst I’m an emotional wreck. That’s not a good quality to look for in a mother. Trust me.” Nicole Owens’s face surfaced in Leila’s mind. “I know.”
Leila reached over and shut off the music. The ensuing silence felt like a balm to her restless soul; but out of the stillness, she experienced a moment of clarity. Samantha had to have felt the same way.
Leila closed her eyes, drew a deep breath and, when she exhaled, a few tears finally trickled from her eyes. Eight-year-old Samantha had had the unfortunate honor of discovering their mother’s lifeless body; ten-year-old Roslyn had found the pills; and twelve-year-old Leila had found the suicide letter.
She glanced down at Emma. The thought of motherhood must have terrified Sam, just as it did Leila. The one trait they had inherited from their mother.
Pushing her troubled thoughts to the back of her head, Leila stood and carefully placed her niece into bed. After she checked the baby monitor, she stepped out of the room and closed the door.
In the kitchen, she cleaned and sanitized baby bottles until her hands turned into wrinkled prunes. While doing the laundry, she was amazed about the amount of clothes, bibs, burp cloths and blankets that had piled up in just six days.
After tackling that task, Leila took a hot shower, slid into her favorite pajamas, twisted a towel like a turban on her head, and then applied her weekly mud mask. Since she wasn’t going to be able to go to work, she would have to do her work at home.
“Now what did I do with my briefcase?” She searched around the living room before remembering that she’d brought the diaper bag in but not the briefcase. “I’m never going to be able to remember all of this.”
She donned her robe and her favorite fuzzy slippers and rushed out to the car to retrieve her briefcase. When she reached the car, she heard a door slam across the street.
As luck would have it, Leila and Garrick looked up at the same time.
She smiled.
He frowned.
“The mask.” Her hand flew to her face and horror rushed through her body. She pivoted and sprinted back to her door—only to find it locked. “No. Damn it, no.”
She banged on the door and even thought about kicking it; but it wasn’t as if Emma were going to crawl out of her crib to come answer the door.
“Is there a problem?” Garrick asked.
Leila’s eyes widened to the size of silver dollars. “No. Everything is fine,” she squeaked, refusing to turn around.
A long silence drifted between them for a moment before he finally asked, “So why won’t you go into the house?” He was behind her.
She continued to stare wide-eyed at the door while her brain scrambled for something—anything—to say. “I, uh, seem to have locked myself out.”
A deep rumble of laughter completed her shame. “It’s not funny.”
“Sorry.” He cleared his throat. “But after a night like I had, I find everything funny.”
Leila said nothing.
“I take it you don’t have a spare key stashed around here somewhere?”
“That would be too easy, don’t you think?”
He laughed again.
“Please, don’t,” she begged, leaning her forehead against the door.
“Okay, we can think through this,” he said. “Of course I’d rather not brainstorm with your back.”
Leila allowed another wave of silence to crash between them.
“Won’t you turn around?”
“I’d rather not.”
Garrick expelled a long, frustrated sigh. “And why not?”
“Because I’m hideous.”
He frowned. “Excuse me?”
Her shoulders slumped with defeat while she squeezed her eyes shut. “Promise me you won’t laugh,” she groaned.
“Okay.”
“No. You have to say it.”
“All right.” He paused. “I promise.”
Resolved and determined to get the humiliation over with, Leila turned around and waited. When he said nothing, she finally peeled her eyes open only to find him smiling at her.
“You said you wouldn’t laugh.”
He held on to his smile. “I’m not laughing,” he said defensively.
“You want to laugh.”
“True,” he admitted. “But since I gave you my word, I’m not going to.”
She tilted her chin up in a desperate attempt to hold on to her pride. “I appreciate that.”
“Of course, I also want to point out that I also didn’t laugh the first day we met when you wore the same outfit and you had your hair sticking straight up.”
Leila’s hand shot up to her head, but she was relieved to feel the towel still wrapped around her head. “Then I want to go on record that I think it’s in bad taste to bring that up now.”
“Sorry.” His smile turned into a smirk. “Although I think it’s very important that people learn not to take themselves too serious. You have to learn to laugh at yourself.”
“Really?” She crossed her arms. “I bet that’s easy for you to say, since you have so much dirt on me. I have nothing on you.”
“Okay.” He hesitated and then drew a deep breath. “How about this—my sister-in-law set me up on a blind date tonight with a transvestite.”
Leila’s bark of laughter was out of her mouth before she could think.
“See?” He straightened and squared his shoulders. “Very funny, isn’t it? I hope she thinks so, too, when I strangle her.”
“That woman I saw you with earlier—?”
“My sister-in-law, Tamara.”
Leila rolled her eyes when she realized that she had been jealous of the man’s sister-in-law.
“What is it?” he asked.
“Nothing.” She chuckled. “It’s just me being silly.”
Garrick rolled up his sleeves. “Well, let’s see if we can get you into the house so we can check on little Emma, shall we?”
“That would be nice.”
After checking all the windows, Garrick raced to his place and returned with a small nail kit. In less than two minutes, he’d unlocked her door.
“How did you do that?”
“Let’s just say my brother and I fell into a little trouble from time to time when we were younger.”
She frowned.
“Don’t worry. I grew out of it.” He winked and then inched closer. “So how about a nightcap?”
Leila thought about the previous night’s rejection and even about his bad date. What was she supposed to be—some type of consolation prize?
“Actually, I have a lot of work I need to catch up on. Speaking of which, I almost forgot again.” She rushed
back out to the car and retrieved her briefcase.
A smiling Garrick remained rooted by the door when she returned.
“Rain check?” he asked.
“Sure.” She shrugged.
Garrick waited until her skittering gaze met his again. In an instant, she nearly drowned in the dark pools of his eyes and her breath thinned to a dangerous level. When he leaned forward, she guessed what was about to happen next and she had a half a heartbeat to decide whether to stop him.
She didn’t.
Leila sighed when the soft petals of his lips landed against hers. Her knees jittered and she slid a hand up against his chest for support. To her surprise, she felt the wild pounding of his heart.
When the kiss ended, she took a step back to clear her head, but it didn’t work.
“I hope you didn’t mind,” he said, retreating and expanding the distance between them.
“Uh, no. I rather enjoyed it.” She tried to smile, but her mud mask had hardened like cement. Leila cupped a hand to her face. “I better go and wash this stuff off. Good night.” She turned.
Garrick gently restrained her by the hand.
She looked back.
“I enjoyed it, too,” he said, and then released her. “Good night.” He turned and walked away.
Chapter 12
“How could you forget about Opulence’s New Year charity party?” Ciara questioned over the phone.
“How do you think?” Leila rolled her eyes as her airplane maneuver with oatmeal missed its destination and crashed against the side of Emma’s face.
The child promptly reached out and dug her fingers into the food.
“No, no, Emma.” Leila tried to pry her niece’s fingers from the baby spoon, but Emma proved victorious and snatched it and waved it around.
Oatmeal flew everywhere—again.
“Give me that.” Leila grabbed for the spoon and didn’t see Emma reach for the bowl.
“So are you still going?” Ciara asked.
“Of course I’m going. I’m presenting a check to the American Cancer Association on behalf of the magazine. I have to be there.”
Emma jerked up the bowl.
Leila gasped when the rest of her niece’s breakfast splattered across her face. “Oh, you little hellion.”
She’s My Baby Page 7
