Baby for the Greek Billionaire. Susan Meier
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He’d bragged that number three would be the charm. But it wasn’t. His father was angry with him for wasting his time. His brothers were making names for themselves on Wall Street and Burn did nothing but fail.” A sob escaped. “He was the family embarrassment.”
Darius swallowed, visibly shaken by what she had told him. “I’m sorry.”
Her sob turned to muffled weeping. “Everyone’s sorry.”
He rose from the rocker. “Maybe no one knows what else to say?”
She turned away as her crying took her. There was a place she went, a soft, comfortable place, where emotion took control of her body. Problems weren’t solved. Trouble didn’t disappear, but tension eased. Tears and sobs provided a welcome release not just for the pain, but also for her tight muscles and limbs. And she wanted to go there now. She wanted to go to her own room, sink onto the bed and let the crying soothe her.
“You weren’t at fault, you know.”
She spun to face him as sadness morphed into anger. “Really? I couldn’t have noticed my slightly depressed husband tumbling into full-fledged mental illness? There were no signs? You’re sure?”
“No, but—”
“You wouldn’t accept my diagnosis of Gino. You insisted on waiting for the pediatrician. So now I’m telling you to stop diagnosing me. Back off.”
The door opened and Mrs. Tucker entered with a short, gray-haired man behind her. “Dr. Sullivan,” she announced as she stepped aside and let the man shuffle over to Gino.
“Hey, Gino,” he crooned, taking the baby from Darius’s arms. Obviously familiar with the little boy, he hugged him before he said, “I hear somebody might be getting a tooth.”
He laid the little boy on the changing table and began to examine him.
Silently, Whitney slipped behind the group huddled around the baby and out the door.
Darius watched her go, cursing himself for pushing her and cursing her husband.
She’d had a daughter. A little girl. A baby who was probably the light of her life. He squeezed his eyes shut in misery. He’d brought all that back for her, made her relive the worst days of her life.
The doctor examined Gino and told Darius and Mrs. Tucker there was very little that could be done for a baby getting a tooth. He gave them some gel to numb his gums and advised them to get a teething ring.
Luckily, Gino fell asleep almost immediately after the doctor left, but Darius stayed by his crib, angry with himself for forcing Whitney to talk, but more concerned about the baby.
Finally, around midnight, he went to bed. But what seemed like only two minutes later, Darius heard the sounds of the baby waking and he popped up in bed. Glancing at his clock, he saw it was only just after two and groaned.
Still, not wanting Mrs. Tucker to have to deal with a cranky baby alone, he jumped into jeans and a sweatshirt and raced into the nursery. As he entered through the side door, Whitney bolted into the room from the main door, wearing a fluffy pink robe over white pajamas.
Their eyes met across the nursery and everything inside him stilled. He’d forced her to relive the worst days of her life the night before, but at least with that out in the open she had to know he didn’t doubt her anymore. He wouldn’t be making good on his threat to contest guardianship.
Gino screamed again, reminding him that if he didn’t pick him up and tend to him, he’d wake Mrs. Tucker. Beating Whitney to the crib, he lifted the little boy out and hugged him, patting his back to soothe him.
Whitney stood a few steps back. Concern brought her close enough to see what was going on, but not so close that she was actually part of it.
Things would have probably been a bit stilted and awkward between them as they worked through the aftermath of that conversation and her memories, but ultimately they would have been okay—if he hadn’t also kissed her.
He couldn’t believe he’d done that, but the temptation had been so strong he couldn’t resist. He’d thought that one kiss might take the edge off. Instead, the taste of her stayed on his lips all night.
Turning away, she said, “I’ll warm a bottle.”
She took a bottle from the small refrigerator, set it in the warmer and waited, all with her back to him.
Guilt suffused him. He should have been kinder with her, gentler.
Whitney walked over with the warm bottle, motioning for Darius to sit in the rocker. “Once he drinks this, we’ll put the gel on his gums again so he can fall back to sleep.”
Panic rose in him. He might have fed Gino before, but he really didn’t trust himself to feed the baby when his mouth was sore.
Obviously seeing his hesitancy, Whitney said, “Arrange Gino across your lap, but lift his head a little higher than you normally do.”
In three or four movements, Darius had the little boy across his lap and halfway between sitting and lying on his arm.
“Now, put the nipple to his lips and he’ll do the rest. His hunger will supersede the pain in his mouth.”
Darius did as instructed and Gino latched onto the nipple as if he was starving.
Whitney stepped away. “I understand how his being sick would make you nervous.”
Of course she did. She’d had a daughter. He’d brought up those memories for her. In the silence of the nursery where he’d confronted her, the most natural thing to do right now would be to apologize for pushing her to tell him about her daughter.
So he did. “I’m sorry.”
She ambled to the side window. Though it was the middle of the night and she probably couldn’t see anything, she stared out into the darkness. “For not knowing how to care for Gino?”
“For pushing you into talking before the pediatrician got here.”
Her eyes never left the window. “You had no idea. You were worried about Gino. I accept that.”
Just as he’d suspected, his mistake was something she’d probably faced before. She wouldn’t hold a grudge or make something out of it he hadn’t intended. Things might still be awkward for awhile, but ultimately they’d be okay.
The baby nudged the nipple out of his mouth and Darius pulled the bottle away. He sat him up a bit then waited a few seconds before he offered it again. Gino latched onto the nipple, and the room became eerily silent. This time he couldn’t blame it on the repercussions of his pushing her into talking about her baby. There was a second elephant in the room and he had to get rid of it, too.
With a glance at Gino to make sure he was still suckling, he said, “I’m also sorry I kissed you. It won’t happen again.”
She stared out the window, saying nothing, and he wanted to groan at his stupidity. Kissing her had been a ridiculous, in-the-moment impulse that he should have thought through. Instead, he’d let his hormones rule him.
But rather than tell him to go to hell, or that he was an immature ass, she quietly said, “How do you know it won’t happen again?”
He had no option but the truth. “Because it’s not a good idea for either of us. We have to spend the next eighteen years dealing with each other as we raise this baby. If we started a relationship that fizzled, one of us would end up angry or hurt and that’s not good for Gino.”
Whitney stared outside though she didn’t actually see anything. It was the second or third time he’d given Gino preference in a conversation. It had surprised her the morning before when he’d said he wanted to be a great dad. But after the way he’d behaved while waiting for the pediatrician—protective, strong—she knew he wasn’t faking it, wasn’t saying these things to make himself look good or get her into his corner. He intended to be a good father