Embraced

by Tracy Wolff

  The routine was a delicate balance that depended on Sarah working eighteen or nineteen hours straight, then going to bed for two or three hours before the baby woke and the cycle started again. He didn’t know how she did it. Didn’t want to know, to tell the truth.

  All he really wanted to know was how to fix it.

  But he didn’t have a clue where to start.

  Was a housekeeper the answer? A nanny? He’d hire one or the other—or both—if he thought Sarah would let him get away with it. He had the money for it, but Sarah was stubborn about things like this. After Mike left, he remembered Vanessa trying to convince Sarah to hire some help around the house. She’d said she liked to do things herself and she didn’t want some stranger taking care of her children.

  But surely a cleaning person once or twice a week wouldn’t upset Sarah’s sense of independence. He’d broach the subject tomorrow.

  He was drifting, halfway between sleep and wakefulness, when he heard Rose crying. Part of him wanted to roll over and ignore the sound—Sarah was good at getting the baby quickly—but guilt prodded him. Hadn’t he just decided that Sarah needed help?

  The crying wasn’t stopping. In fact, it was getting louder. He sprang out of bed, reaching for the unfamiliar pajama bottoms he now kept close. He all but ran to the nursery. Something must be very wrong.

  Rose was enraged. Her legs were tangled in the light blanket Sarah always covered her with and her fists flailed furiously as she struggled to roll onto her tummy.

  He crossed the room, bent over the crib and picked up the angry baby. Tucking her against his chest, like Sarah had taught him, he closed his eyes in sheer relief as she gave one shuddering breath then buried her face against his neck.

  He stood, cuddling Rose for long moments. Letting her sweet baby scent calm his thundering heart and panicked mind. Savoring the feel of her in his arms.

  Eventually she began to squirm against him, little mewls escaping her perfect rosebud lips. She was hungry.

  He would have to feed her.

  Even while he wrestled with his doubts about this task and a part of him wondered where Sarah was—she never ignored the baby—he crept down the stairs with Rosie still cradled against his chest. Sarah always made a bottle before going to bed and stored it in the refrigerator. Surely he could manage to heat it up with out any major catastrophes.

  Getting the bottle from the fridge without dropping the baby proved trickier than he thought. But he got it uncapped and into the microwave. As he set the appliance at the correct power and time, he experienced a sense of relief, and triumph. Maybe not rocket science, but he accomplished it.

  While the bottle heated up, he changed Rosie’s diaper. It wasn’t the prettiest—or quickest—diaper change on record, but he was inordinately pleased with his effort.

  He was doing this. He was taking care of his daughter, by himself. For a man who designed signature buildings all over the world, the realization was humbling. And he wasn’t finished. Rose was starting to whimper and the microwave had dinged a few minutes before.

  “Yeah,” he muttered. “You’re really getting this fatherhood thing down.”

  He settled into the rocking chair in Rosie’s room to feed her. There was something soothing in the ritual, something calming for him as well as the baby. Even as he worried about her choking on the milk and obsessed about getting her to burp, it felt right.

  As he laid Rose in her crib, he thought about Vanessa. She should have been here. It should have been her rocking and soothing the baby. Bathing her. Feeding her. Loving her.

  And that’s how it would have been. Vanessa would have cared for Rose exclusively while he continued to pour himself into his work. There would have been few shared moments and little sense they were in this parenting thing together.

  The way he was already feeling with Sarah.

  The thought felt wrong, disloyal, even though it was true. He did feel close to Sarah, as though they had a special connection. One he’d rarely experienced with his wife no matter how much he’d loved her.

  He froze as he realized he hadn’t thought of Vanessa all day until now. How could that be? It had only been seven months. Seven months since he’d held his wife. Kissed her. Made love to her. He couldn’t be forget ting about her. Couldn’t be thinking about Sarah—with her stunning eyes and generous spirit—far too often.

  Yet he was.

  What kind of husband did that make him? He’d never fully supported Vanessa’s longing for a child—to the point a rift developed in their relationship—yet here he was embracing not only that child, but also her mother as if he’d never wanted to be anywhere else.

  He owed Vanessa so much and had no way to make amends. The guilt assailed him. What the hell was he supposed to do?

  * * *

  SARAH STARED AT REECE hovering over the baby’s crib, her heart thundering in her chest.

  He had taken care of the baby?

  By himself?

  Without her?

  The pain pierced. She was no longer solely responsible for her little girl’s life. Rose’s father also had the ability to take care of her, to soothe her hurts and rock her to sleep. It was a powerful realization, one that nearly crippled Sarah.

  She’d been on her own for too long—taking care of the boys, then doing the same for Rose. Taking care of Tad and her mother after her dad had left. Even taking care of Vanessa, when things got too much for her to handle. How daunting then for Sarah to admit she had someone to lean on. Someone to take the burden from her when it got too heavy—at least for as long as Reece hung around. That he was willing to take care of her, if she let him.

  Maybe it was because of those thoughts that she noticed, for the first time, the play of light and shadows over Reece’s bare chest as he shifted. His very attractive, very well-muscled chest.

  Maybe it was because she was looking at him as the father of her child. Not as Vanessa’s husband.

  Whatever the reason was—shock, grief or simple biology—Sarah gasped as her nipples hardened. As her body responded once again to the nearness and warmth of this man.

  Reece turned at her gasp, gave her a little smile that had her stomach tightening.

  What was wrong with her? This was Vanessa’s husband. How could Sarah possibly, even for a second, have noticed—

  “I didn’t want to wake you.” His words invaded her self-flagellation. “You’ve been so tired.”

  “Thanks.” She cleared her throat, sought to control the unruly reaction of her body. “Did you feed her?” she whispered, walking closer to look at her perfect little girl.

  “I did. And I changed her diaper.”

  He sounded so proud. And, lord, what that domestic prowess did to the hormones rocketing through her. Hormones that reminded her how long it had been since she’d been this close to a half-naked man.

  But for how long would he stay interested in playing house, the cynical little voice inside of her asked. He was helpful now, but what happened when Rose got sick, as babies did? What happened when he found a woman—one who didn’t want a baby that wasn’t her own? What happened when work—and life—interfered?

  Rose and the boys and Sarah would come in last. Just like always.

  Thankfully, her macabre thoughts killed the sparks of desire. Her body might not understand all the reasons Reece was so incredibly bad for her, but her mind certainly did. And at the moment, her mind was firmly in control.

  “I appreciate your help.” Her voice was stilted, cold and she could see that the difference registered on Reece as she backed away from the crib. From him.

  “No problem.” He kept his voice low, nearly toneless, but his eyes were filled with questions—questions she had no desire to answer. Questions she wasn’t even sure she could answer.

  Retreating from the room as quickly and soundlessly as she could, Sarah headed for the safety of her room. But Reece was right behind her and he caught her elbow to stop her flight.

  “Are you
okay?”

  “It’s the middle of the night, Reece. I’m not really at my best right now.”

  “That’s not what I meant and you know it.” His grip tightened, not to the point of pain, but definitely enough for her to know that he meant business.

  The dominance of the gesture set her teeth on edge, especially as he had no right to it. This was her house. These were her children and her problems.

  He was the interloper with his too-masculine chest and too-pretty face. He was the one making her hormones jump around like frogs on speed. And he was the one who had come into this equation seven months too late.

  Sarah was shocked at the vehemence of her thoughts.

  She had been so sure she was over this.

  So where was the resistance coming from? Where had this anger been lurking?

  She didn’t want to be like this, didn’t want to be so angry. She had always rolled with the punches. Even when Mike left her, six months pregnant, she hadn’t been this bitter. This furious.

  So why now? Why with Reece, who had done nothing but try to help her?

  Even as she told herself to calm down, to let go of the irrational burden, she felt her fury ratchet higher.

  “You’re going to want to let go of me, Reece.” She spoke through her teeth as she tried to yank her elbow from his grip.

  He watched her for long seconds before his fingers slowly uncurled. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I did that.”

  To his credit, he did look bewildered. As if this sudden shift in their relationship—from cordial friends to something deeper, darker—was as surprising to him as it was to her.

  Once again her stomach flipped, and once again she ignored it, refusing to acknowledge anything.

  “Don’t do it again.” She shot him a look that said she meant business—it was the same look she’d used on Mike when he’d overstepped his boundaries with her. Then, knowing nothing good could happen if she remained in such proximity to Reece, she shut herself behind the relative safety of her bedroom door.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  TWO MONTHS LATER, Sarah was feeding Rose her breakfast when she heard the front door open. “Honey, I’m home,” Reece called in the cheesy sit-com voice he used when he was trying to make her laugh. It usually worked and today was no exception.

  “Did the boys get into their classroom okay?” she asked as his footsteps sounded behind her.

  “They did.” He stopped to give Rose a kiss on her fuzzy baby hair before heading to the refrigerator. “What do you want to eat?”

  “Whatever you’re having.”

  She glanced behind her in time to see him pull out a gallon of milk and some strawberries before heading into the pantry. “Did you give the teacher the check for their hot lunch?”

  “I did,” he said, pulling two bowls from a cabinet. “And she said Justin and Johnny are doing very well.”

  “Really?” Sarah’s heart jumped as she turned to him. “You asked her?”

  “I didn’t have to. She volunteered the information.”

  “Really? So do you think she meant it?”

  “Of course she meant it. The boys are taking to school like champs—even I can tell that. Stop worrying.”

  “Easy for you to say.” She wiped a damp cloth over her oatmeal-and-applesauce-covered daughter. “You’re not the one who had to go to the principal’s office when they clogged up the school toilet with cars for the third time.”

  “Touché.” He handed her a bowl of cereal then took a seat across the table from her and Rose. “But I am the one who has learned how to take care of the toilet here so that half our monthly income doesn’t go to Vince the plumber.”

  “There is that.”

  “There is indeed. And—” he gestured with his cereal bowl “—I make a mean breakfast.”

  “Yes, you do.”

  “So, perhaps I’m worth keeping around for a while.”

  “Perhaps.” His words echoed in Sarah’s head as she ate her cereal. Reece really had made a difference around the house since he’d moved in. He’d stuck to his word about making things easier for her. He took the boys to school each morning so that she could spend some time with Rose. He played with the boys after she picked them up from school and had turned into quite the drill sergeant when it came to getting Justin and Johnny to tidy up their toys.

  Not to mention the most startling fact of all—that he had become a natural with Rose. He bathed her, diapered her, fed her—in essence all the things that Sarah herself did. And he never complained, even when he took his turn doing the night shifts.

  All in all, things were working out much better than she ever could have imagined. Of course, the housekeeper Reece had hired to come in twice a week to clean and do laundry helped. At first she’d wanted to fight him about Eva—and had certainly wanted to cover the costs herself—but Reece had been adamant. He would take care of it.

  That seemed to be his mantra and one he lived up to with incredible accuracy. So what did it say about her that she constantly waited for the other shoe to drop? Constantly waited for him to have enough of the trials and tribulations that came from looking after a family that wasn’t his own and walk out.

  Except he never made her feel as though they weren’t family, never told her that the boys weren’t his responsibility. He’d even cut out a lot of his work travel so that he could be with them. If she wasn’t careful, she was going to start believing they were a family.

  Instinctively her mind shied away from the thought. They weren’t. Reece wasn’t her husband. He was Vanessa’s husband. And that was more than fine with Sarah. After Mike, she certainly wasn’t in the market for another husband anyway.

  Except sometimes, when she wasn’t prepared, Reece would smile at her and her heart would beat a little too hard. Her pulse would race a little too fast and her body would respond before she could remind herself that he was off-limits.

  “Hey, Sarah, where’d you go?”

  Reece’s voice jerked her out of her thoughts. “I don’t know. Just imagining what other terrors the boys had in store for us this year.” She was uncomfortable with the lie, but she wasn’t about to tell him the truth.

  “You worry too much. They’re just normal boys. High-strung, sure, but good-hearted. They don’t mean to get into trouble. It’s just that they’re—”

  “Curious. I know. At the rate they’re going one—or both—of them won’t make it to adolescence.”

  “You’d be surprised. Kids are more resilient than you think.”

  “I know you’re right.”

  “But moms worry.” He reached out and ruffled her hair, much as he did to the boys. It was a gesture of careless affection and absolutely not meant to inspire the jump in her heart rate. “I remember Vanessa used to say—”

  He cut off in midsentence.

  “What did she say?”

  “Nothing. Just that she didn’t know how you and some of her other friends did it. How you learned to balance the worry and the need to wrap your children in cotton with their need to explore and learn and make mistakes.”

  “I think it’s the hardest thing about being a parent.” She slipped Rose out of her high chair and handed her to Reece before crossing to the sink to put their breakfast dishes in the dishwasher.

  “I don’t know how I’m going to learn that,” he said as he lifted Rose in the air and blew on her tummy. The baby laughed, kicked her feet, grabbing onto her daddy’s hair to show her approval.

  “You’ll do fine.”

  He glanced at her. “Do you really think so?”

  “I know so. You’re doing an incredible job with her. And when it comes time for her to take her first steps, you’ll let her do that—even knowing she’s going to fall down and get hurt more than once.”

  “Don’t be too sure about that.” Reece gave a shudder. “I might force her to wear a helmet and knee pads before I let her loose.”

  Sarah laughed. “You wouldn’t be the first father to do th
at.”

  “Probably not.” Reece played with Rose for a few minutes as she got the dishwasher on then started a load of laundry. Of everything he’d done for her this touched her the most—the time he took to play with his daughter.

  “Well, I’ve got to get to work.” Reece handed Rose to Sarah reluctantly, his hands lingering on the baby’s cheeks before he finally managed to tear himself away. “I’ve got clients coming in from the West Coast to look at my new design.”

  “For the Westmont building?” she asked, as she balanced Rose on a hip.

  “Yeah.”

  “How did that turn out? I know you were having some trouble with it.”

  “I got everything worked out with Matt’s help. It’s all good.” He grabbed his briefcase and headed for the door. “I’ll be home in plenty of time for you to get to the open house at the boys’ school.”

  “Geez, I forgot all about it.”

  “I figured you had, since you hadn’t mentioned it. That’s what I’m here for.” With a wink, he was out the door.

  How could she have been so careless, as to have forgotten the meeting with the boys’ teacher.

  But as she settled Rose on her office floor with a bunch of toys, she wondered what had her so upset. That she’d forgotten the open house? Or that Reece had been around to remind her?

  It was the latter, she decided nearly an hour later as she struggled with a Web design. She was coming to depend on Reece more and more, even though she knew she couldn’t. That’s what had screwed up her mother so much when her father left—her utter dependence on him to meet both her material and emotional needs.

  Sarah wouldn’t make the same mistake. So what if Reece remembered open house? It didn’t mean anything. And she would be just fine when he left.

  Satisfied with her reasoning, she finally gave the computer her full attention. And did her damnedest to ignore the hollowness that had taken up residence in the center of her chest.

  * * *

  REECE WAS SITTING on the floor in the family room, Rose next to him as he played trucks with Johnny and Justin. The boys were so cute, and so sweet, it was hard to get mad at them. Even when they’d scribbled with permanent marker all over his light table he couldn’t keep his mad up. How could he when they hung their heads pitifully and explained how exciting it had been to see the light shine through the fantastic designs made by the marker?