by Olivia Miles
She stared at him, boring her eyes through his, challenging him to look down, to feed into his curiosity, to recognize his own features in this small child. She had his chin. Maybe his nose, too.
Jake’s gaze never strayed from hers. He didn’t look down.
She stared at him in disbelief. Waiting. Hoping. But still, he refused to look down.
The bastard. The callous, coldhearted bastard.
“We have to get going.” He turned to the woman at his side, who had lost interest in being social and was flicking through an album of bridal bouquets.
“So soon?” Her voice was sweet, but her jaw was starting to ache from clenching her teeth so hard.
His eyes were stony as they locked hers. “We have an early reservation at the club.”
The club. Of course. It was Friday night after all. The Lamberts always ate at the county club on Fridays when they were in town. Not that she’d ever been invited. Or her sister.
“Well, hopefully we’ll be seeing a bit more of you while you’re in Misty Point,” Charlotte continued. “I know Audrey would love to know her daddy.”
Jake’s face went white as his fiancée whipped around, eyes wide in horror, starting at Charlotte, then Audrey, and finally at Jake. Her expression said everything. Jake’s resistance to accept his role ran deep.
Tears stung the back of her eyes, but she swallowed hard, determined not to let it show.
“Oh, he didn’t tell you?” Charlotte asked, tipping her head. She shifted her eyes back to Jake, narrowing them, wishing there was something more, something bigger she could do to express her outrage. Instead, she said coldly, “Well, I can’t say I’m surprised, given this is the first time he’s met the child he refuses to admit is his.”
“Is this true?” The blonde was gaping at Jake now. Charlotte half wondered if she’d toss the ring at him. And she realized that she didn’t care. Let Jake get married. Let some other woman have him.
She deserved better. So did her sister.
So did Audrey.
She shook her head in disgust. Even now, with his own child close enough to touch, he stood there, like the coward he was. “Can’t say it yet, huh, Jake? Even now, when your daughter is right here in front of you, you still can’t even look at her.” When Jake said nothing more, she finished, “You don’t know what you’re missing, Jake. And you don’t deserve her, either.” Heart still racing, she protectively angled the carrier closer to her chest and turned from the counter as if in a fog. She walked straight to the door, past the poinsettias and roses and holiday wreaths and the tree that grazed the ceiling, its ornaments sparkling with the promise of a magical Christmas.
She took great care in settling Audrey into the backseat and backing the car out of its space. The decorations were hung through the town, and the lights were already lit around every lamppost, but this time, it didn’t fill her with joy the way it usually did. Hot tears began to blur her vision, and she wiped them quickly away, turning up the music to cut the all-consuming silence of the car.
“I tried, Audrey,” she whispered. She had tried. She was still trying. But no matter how much she did, or sacrificed, or worried, it still came back to the glaring fact that Audrey didn’t have a father and that nothing could make up for that. She could hug her and hold her and feed her and wipe her tears, but she was only one person.
And somehow, it would just have to be enough.
Jake or no Jake, she had to focus on the positive. It was Christmastime, after all, her daughter’s first. No matter what it took, it would be memorable—even if there weren’t many presents under the tree, and even if they didn’t have a home of her own, Charlotte was more determined than ever to make it special for the two of them. And no matter what, Audrey would never know that her father had turned his back on her. Twice. Without another glance in her direction.
* * *
Greg frowned as he swerved into the garage and then killed the engine. It had been another stressful day, and he was ready for the weekend. He sighed as he dialed the security code at the back door, shedding the weight of the afternoon, determined to leave his troubles behind him for the evening. He could think of nothing better than a cold beer, a giant pizza, and—
A screaming baby.
An ear-piercing wail seemed to ricochet off the walls as he closed the door behind him. For a brief moment, he had half a mind to turn and run, get back into his car and drive into town. But then he saw her, Charlotte, standing in the distance, in the kitchen. And wasn’t she a sight.
“Welcome home!” She smiled and bent down to lift a screeching Audrey. She flashed him an apologetic grin, and then laughed softly.
Greg hesitated and then strode down the hall and straight into the kitchen. He’d never thought of this place as anything more than a house since his early childhood days when his grandparents still lived here, but he had to say that in the past few days since Charlotte had come to stay, it really did feel like a home, and it wasn’t because of all the Christmas decorations. For the first time in too long there was life, and warmth, and chaos. The usual impeccable order of this place had been destroyed with plastic blocks and thick cardboard books with colorful pictures.
Somehow he couldn’t imagine how empty this old house would be when they left. Solitude was what he’d come here for, what he’d sought out, but now…
“Sorry about this,” Charlotte was saying, talking quickly. “Audrey’s hungry; I was on the phone with the caterers and I didn’t get her dinner ready in time, and well.” She shrugged. In her arms, Audrey’s face was red as a beet, her eyes squeezed tight as hot angry tears fell steadily. She threw her head back as her mouth flung open, and Greg leaned forward, frowning. Was she holding her breath?
Audrey took that opportunity to release her energy. Right into his ear. He heard bells before he forcefully pulled back, and Charlotte’s laughter overrode the Richter-scale-breaking level of that child’s cries.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Charlotte said, seemingly to calm herself, but when she finally stopped laughing, another ripple sputtered from her lips. “It’s just…your face!”
Greg straightened himself. Audrey had quieted to a mere sob, having gotten the worst of it out of her system, he hoped, and now appeared to taking her frustration out on Charlotte’s hair, which she clung to with two chubby fists. If Charlotte minded, she didn’t show it.
Greg raked a hand through his own hair, just to make sure it was still intact. Was this…normal?
Maybe normal for others, he decided, but not for him. His mind trailed back to Rebecca. As much as she claimed she suddenly wanted children, she would never have been able to tolerate something like this. Her perfect hair and clothes would have been ruined. It would only have been a matter of time before she enlisted a full-time nanny and suggested they go off on a European vacation to have some adult time.
He looked at Charlotte. “I’ve been meaning to ask if you’ve had an update on your apartment.”
For a moment, Charlotte looked startled. She finished wiping up the baby food that had splattered on the counter and tossed a jar into the bin. “It looks like I won’t be able to move back in,” she said, focusing on Audrey.
Greg paused. “Never?”
Charlotte shrugged. Her cheeks had grown pink. “I’ll get a new place in January. I’m going to tour an apartment next week if I can break away long enough.”
“But for this month?”
“Oh!” Charlotte trilled. “I’ll probably just crash at a friend’s house for a few weeks. So long as Audrey’s first Christmas is special, it doesn’t really matter where we are.” She smiled bravely, but her eyes flitted around the room.
Greg narrowed his gaze, recalling her words last night, the way she’d taken on this ludicrous proposition to begin with, the fact that she’d shown up on his doorstep the next morning.
“Well, if you need to stay here until you find a new apartment, that’s fine with me.”
“That might work ou
t,” she said casually, and Greg bit back a smile. “It might help us keep up this pretense until everything is certain on your end. Your mother doesn’t officially retire until the end of the year, right?”
“Right. And we wouldn’t want to look like we suddenly broke up after the party,” Greg said, careful to have a reasonable excuse, even though that had been the furthest thing from his mind when he’d suggested she stay. His mother wouldn’t know, wouldn’t care. So long as Burke’s signed them for next year’s Christmas display, she’d be content. Besides, it wasn’t like she’d bother to ask about his wedding plans again anytime soon. He could easily keep things going with a casual mention here or there until one day he was inexplicably single again. And by then, it wouldn’t even matter to her.
“No, no, we wouldn’t.” Charlotte hooked her gaze with his, and Greg felt the air lock in his chest. She was his for the holidays, he reminded himself. Just for the holidays. Come January first, she’d move on with her life and he with his.
And somehow, he was already missing her.
Chapter Twenty
Charlotte stared at her phone screen in disbelief. The one time her sitter had dared to cancel on her in all these months just had to be an hour before her sister’s surprise wedding shower.
She groaned as she looked at Audrey, who was sitting in her car seat on the kitchen counter, her face covered in oatmeal. At the sight of Charlotte’s distress, the baby started giggling in glee, revealing a mouth full of the food, which soon was dispensed all over her bib.
Great. Now Charlotte would have to bathe her before she figured out what to do next. Kate wouldn’t mind if Audrey was a guest. It wasn’t that big of a deal. Except that Charlotte had been really looking forward to just one night out with the girls. Just one.
Her mind went darkly back to Jake again. Jake, who was never on duty, but before she dwelled on that too much, she grabbed a paper towel and began wiping Audrey’s face. It was a privilege to be able to spend time with her daughter, after all. One that Jake could never understand.
There was that maternal guilt again. Maybe it was for the best if Audrey came along to the shower. Then she wouldn’t have to feel guilty over being happy to leave her for a few hours.
“Everything okay in here?”
Other than for the fact that yet again, I’m wondering how fit I am to be a mother? Charlotte turned to see Greg standing in the doorway of the kitchen, looking a little too handsome for a guy who had been holed up in his office working all day. She averted her gaze, lest she get any ideas, and continued cleaning up Audrey, who was started to squirm in protest.
“Oh, fine, fine. You know that party I mentioned I had tonight?” She’d been sure to mention it when she saw him for the five minutes that morning before he shut himself off in the den. “Well, my sitter canceled. But it’s fine, really. No big deal. I’ll just bring Audrey with me.”
“But isn’t it your sister’s wedding shower?” he asked.
Now Audrey was really fighting her. Moving her head and scrunching up her nose and…It was no use. Charlotte stopped wiping her face, closed her eyes for three calming breaths, and turned to Greg with an overly bright smile. She had a bad feeling she looked as deranged as she was starting to feel. Audrey had been fussy all day, and she hadn’t napped. No doubt those teeth were finally about to poke through…And the only thing that kept her patience from snapping was the thought of putting on a pretty outfit and enjoying some girl time tonight.
So much for that.
“It’s fine,” she told Greg. “My sister won’t mind.”
“Well, let me see if Marlene can help—”
“She went Christmas shopping,” Charlotte replied. She’d thought of that, too.
“Huh.” Greg’s face was pulled into a frown, and he seemed to hover behind her as she cleaned up the oatmeal and rinsed the bowl out in the sink. “You know, I can always watch her while you go.”
Charlotte’s gasp was audible. “You?”
“What? Is that such a crazy idea?” Greg’s grin was a little bashful. Or maybe just uncertain.
Still…he was a grown adult. He was successful. Capable. Functioning. And Audrey would probably fall asleep as soon as Charlotte left anyway, considering she hadn’t napped all day.
“Are you sure?” she asked, eyeing him warily.
“Sure. You already fed her, and if you write down what I need to do, I’m sure I can handle it.”
“You’d just need to give her a bedtime bottle. I’ll get it ready. She goes to bed at seven, and she might even be asleep before that. I’ll try to only stay out for three or four hours in case she wakes up needing a change.”
“A change?” Greg asked.
Charlotte gave a little smile. “A diaper change.”
She thought she saw Greg gulp.
“Are you sure you can handle this?”
“Of course. She’s what…about one?”
“Seven months.”
“Seven months.” Greg looked slightly perplexed, but then gave an affable shrug. “It’s just a few hours. What’s the big deal?”
* * *
What had he gotten himself into?
Charlotte hadn’t even gotten out of the driveway before the smell filled the room. Greg turned in desperation to the back door, but he knew he couldn’t chase her down even if he wanted to, and really, what kind of man would that make him? Afraid of an infant!
The child’s face was a strange shade of red that was starting to border on purple and the smell…Greg covered his nose with the sleeve of his shirt, taking breaths through his mouth.
He stared at her, wondering if she could sit there like that, in her car seat, which was all buckled over her fresh pajamas, as if she could fall out at any minute, even though it was sitting on the floor of the back den, where he had planned to watch a little football and maybe even enjoy a beer. So much for that.
Deciding he couldn’t avoid the inevitable much longer, he grabbed the car seat by the handle and carried the baby up to Charlotte’s guest room. There, in the corner of the en suite bathroom, was a changing mat set out on top of an Egyptian cotton bath mat, a stack of all sorts of creams and diapers stacked beside it.
He hadn’t felt such dread since he was in the ninth grade and working up the courage to ask Nina Catanzariti to the spring dance.
The baby was starting to cry now. He eyed her, and she seemed to sober up for a moment, as if understanding that this wasn’t easy for him, either, that they were sort of in this mess together.
It was bizarre that those little eyes could see the world, sense things, just like he could. As he continued to watch her, she blinked at him, her crying subsided now, until her chin began to quiver and then her lower lip and then…
A door slammed.
Marlene!
He burst out into the hall, leaving Audrey in the car seat in the bathroom and called out to her, his voice almost strangled in panic.
“My God!” she exclaimed, hurrying up the stairs with her coat and shoes still on. “What is going on? Greg? Is everything okay?”
He pointed, into the guest room, and Marlene stared at him in brief confusion before pushing past him into the room. She swung her head around the empty room but it didn’t take her long to follow the trail of the baby’s wails.
The next thing Greg heard was a burst of laughter.
“Afraid of a little baby, are you, Greg?” She was shaking her head when he came back into the room. The baby was already out of her car seat, cuddled in Marlene’s arms, who was cooing soothing words to her as she bounced her on her hip. “I think she needs a change.”
“Yes, I’m aware of that.” Greg rubbed a hand over his forehead. He was getting a headache from all this noise.
“Where’s her mother?” Marlene asked.
“At her sister’s wedding shower,” Greg replied. Or on her way there, perhaps. It was going to be a long night.
“Well, why don’t I get this little girl settled, and then maybe
you can read her a story?”
Greg stared at Marlene, wondering if she had hit her head on her outing. The child wasn’t even one. What could she understand of a story? But fine. Okay, he would read her a story.
“Go on, now. I think Charlotte has a stack of books on the desk chair near the crib.”
Greg closed the bathroom door behind him and went off in search of the books. Sure enough, a bunch of colorful cardboard options were stacked on the antique writing chair. He decided on one about a snowman and hurried downstairs.
Marlene came down a few minutes later, the child on her hip rather than buckled into the car seat. Before he could protest, she set the child on his lap. “There now. Uncle Greg is going to read you a nice bedtime story.”
Uncle Greg? Greg picked up the book, surprised that the child could sit up on her own, and rather impressed by it, in fact. Stiffly, he set a hand on the armrest, just in case she fell backward. Wouldn’t want her hurting her head or anything.
“Well.” He turned uneasily to the first page, slanting a glance at Marlene, who seemed to be suppressing a smile as she slipped out of the room.
He stared at the page. There were three words to the sole sentence on the page. He read them quickly, then turned to the next page, realizing with a start there were only two more page turns to go before the ending.
Read the child the book? He’d be finished in less than fourteen seconds!
He heard Marlene clear her throat from the doorway. “Just a hint? Improvise. Talk about what’s on the page.”
Greg suppressed a groan. If they expected the parents to elaborate the story, why didn’t they just add more to it?
“There’s a little white fluffy snowman. See the snowman?” God, he felt like a fool. No doubt Marlene was around the corner, wishing she had her video camera handy.
He startled when the baby let out a gurgle of sounds that seemed something like a giggle and began slapping at the snowman excitedly.
He stared at her, a smile creeping over his own face. She was actually enjoying this!
“See his hat?” He touched it, noticing that it had a felty feel. Sure enough, the child touched the hat.
