by Dani Collins
“He’s a baby. They don’t know how to be malicious.” So don’t blame Zephyr if you’re angry at me, she added in a silent bite.
A tense twenty minutes passed as she took Evie and Zephyr into her bedroom to dress the girl and herself, leaving Theo charged with Androu. When she emerged, Theo wore a more truculent expression than any toddler. He held a naked Androu and a disposable diaper that looked worse for wear.
“This is why I’m not cut out to be a father,” he charged. “I can’t even manage the basics.”
“Well, you are a father, so I guess you’ll have to learn, won’t you?” she shot back, heart wobbling in her chest at her own audacity. But this was one thing she wouldn’t let the implacable Theo Makricosta block out. It was too important, and not just to Zephyr.
“I wasn’t supposed to be. You promised. You said it would be a disaster—”
“Zephyr is not a disaster. Do not—” She cut herself off from raising her voice, looking away for a second to gather herself, afraid she’d frighten the children if she gave in to the press of emotions strangling her. Tears were right behind the anger so she swallowed hard, trying to keep it all from releasing.
“We’re all frazzled and hungry,” she managed in a croaking voice. “I called room service while we were changing. I’ll dress Androu and once we feed the little ones and they’re settled, I’ll explain. All right?”
He glared, but didn’t argue. An hour later, as she scrubbed faces and hands, he washed his own hands and grumbled, “I’m wearing more than they ate.”
“It’s better than wearing what they ate,” she countered, not sure how they’d managed to be such a well-coordinated team when they were barely speaking. He’d let her lead, which surprised her, copying her actions with great care and concentration, as if there was a perfect system for feeding a baby.
It was such a contradictory vision of him and did funny things to her heart. He was so gloriously inept, but so determined to master these little child-care tasks. Like he’d suffer terribly if he failed to do it right.
Get smacked, maybe. With a belt.
Oh, Theo. Her throat filled with words she couldn’t voice.
“That’s gross,” he replied after taking a moment to get her meaning about what the kids ate.
“It’s reality,” she murmured, lifting Zephyr from his chair and adding, “Do you want to watch them in the other room or finish cleaning up in here?”
As the older pair toddled off in two directions, he gave her a boggled look. “Maybe we should call an agency.”
She tensed. So much for their tentative accord. “You don’t want me and Zephyr here after all then.” It was all she could do to pretend his rejection of their son didn’t shatter her.
“No, I mean we need more help. This is a lot of work! Has either of us sat down since we walked in here four hours ago?” He skimmed a hand over his dry but uncombed hair and stabbed a look at Zephyr. “But now we’ve got this development to manage, too. Discretion is more important than ever, so I guess that leaves us stuck doing it ourselves.”
“Development?” she repeated, hysterical laughter competing with outrage. Stuck?
“Who else besides your cousin’s husband knows I’m— That you and I—”
“Made a baby?” she provided tartly. She tried to remember that he wasn’t the most verbal person alive and this was all quite a shock for him, but honestly, why was it so hard for him to acknowledge his son? “Are you ashamed of Zephyr?” she guessed in a tone that thinned to outrage as the possibility sank in. It was the worst thing he could throw at her, striking directly into her Achilles heel. Into her soul.
“I’m shocked! You had to know I would be.” He’d changed into a basic white T-shirt that strained across his chest as he gestured toward the view of the sea. “I can’t have my family finding out through some cheap sensationalism on the internet. We’ve suffered enough secrets and lies as it is.” He pinched the bridge of his nose.
Unwillingly, she felt sorry for him, which was crazy. He didn’t deserve it, but, “I did try to call you when I first realized I was pregnant,” she reminded.
He sighed, brows coming together in a pensive frown. “I debated calling you back, I did, but Adara turned up pregnant and given her previous miscarriages Demitri and I had to take over her workload. Then our mother died. By the time the dust settled, there didn’t seem any point in contacting you.”
They’d both been going through a lot. She supposed she couldn’t fault him too much for not returning her calls under those circumstances.
“But I trusted you to take that pill, Jaya. What happened?”
The blame in his tone stabbed her, even though she’d tried to prepare herself for it every time she’d mentally walked through this conversation. Yes, she’d failed to protect both of them from the consequences of their night together and she was willing to own that, but his anger and disappointment filled her with umbrage. She didn’t want to feel defensive and solely responsible. He knew what could happen from unprotected sex. It didn’t matter that she had a better understanding of what had driven him that night. He had still chosen to sleep with her to satisfy his own selfish needs.
Just as, when it came down to it, she’d kept their baby for her own selfish reasons.
“The pill was expired,” she explained with as much dignity as she could scrape together. “I thought I’d be able to get a fresh one once I landed in France, but with the time change and Saranya being so ill, it was days before I came up for air. By then I’d missed the window. Then I thought I’d wait to see if I had anything to worry about.”
She flinched from the intensity of his judgmental stare, sinking bleakly back into that time of despair, feeling again the torn sensation of having said goodbye to her life in Bali, and Theo, then facing an even more brutal goodbye with her cousin.
Lifting her chin, she finished without apology, “When it turned out I was pregnant, I couldn’t take steps to end it. I just couldn’t, not with Saranya dying in front of me. I needed something to look forward to. The promise of life and love.”
Scanning the lounge to ensure the older kids were staying out of trouble, she tried to hide that she’d also needed her connection to Theo to continue. Her conscience had tortured her over not keeping her word, but she wasn’t sorry. Not one bit.
“I tried to tell you because you deserved to know.” She cleared her throat. “I didn’t, and don’t, expect anything from you. Not money. Not marriage. He was my decision. He’s my responsibility.”
There. That’s all she’d ever wanted to say, even though she had ached every day to share her pregnancy and baby with Theo. Zephyr was such a little miracle. She wanted Theo to love him as much as she did.
“Oh, sweetie, don’t eat that—” she blurted, realizing Androu had picked lint out of the carpet.
Rushing forward was a much-needed break from the weight of Theo’s gaze. She couldn’t face him after what she’d just said and didn’t want to see his relief at being absolved of any duty or involvement with his son.
* * *
Theo tried to find comfort in her letting him off the hook. God knew he didn’t want to explore the miasma of primordial goo that bubbled inside him as he considered what it meant to be a father.
Inexplicably he was hurt, however. Stinging with rejection at her wanting nothing to do with him.
Fortunately, he was too busy to dwell on whether he should feel sorry for himself or not. Once the kitchenette was tidied, there were beds to set up and pajamas to be ordered, then everyone had to be threaded into them—which was like pushing a rope up a staircase.
“I’m thinking we need bedtime stories and some stuffies. Do they have special blankets or sleeping toys? This could be a rough night,” Jaya warned as she placed a call to a nearby shop before it closed.
“Unlik
e the day it’s been?” he drawled, waving agreement to whatever she wanted to charge to the room.
He wasn’t trying to fuel a fight. It struck him how painfully familiar this tension was, like a typical Makricosta gathering. They had a full-grown elephant between them in the shape of a dark-haired baby boy, but they remained civil, only speaking about the logistics of what needed to be done as they ran their mini-hotel. It should have been a relief, but he found the circumventing and pretending frustrating.
Was this his punishment for the mistake of not wearing a condom? Because he was feeling castigated, chastised and rebuked. Slapped around, knocked down and kicked to the curb.
Why? he found himself wanting to demand. Why don’t you want anything from me? Because you’re afraid I’ll screw up?
He’d never been able to challenge his father, not without suffering worse for it, and he wasn’t sure how to act around Jaya when he felt this abused. His primary instinct when his emotions were churned up was to isolate himself, but no luck on that score. It was all hands on deck and he was about as frayed and tired as the toddlers, barely keeping it together as he counted down the minutes to their bedtime.
If only Jaya would offer the same quiet reassurance she kept giving to the homesick tykes. He watched her adeptly keep them from shedding more than a few sniffles, relieved to know he’d made the right choice in tracking her down, but he was damned jealous of each cuddle and kiss she offered.
His gaze fell on Zephyr and he experienced the crack between the eyes that was his own egocentric vulnerability eighteen months ago. If only he could go back to the ignorance that had been bliss yesterday.
Not all the way back to Bali, though. He didn’t regret making love to her.
Disturbed, he shifted his gaze to Jaya, worried she could read his betraying thoughts.
He wanted to resent her for letting him down, but after what she’d told him about her cousin, he couldn’t find it in him to hate her for failing to take the pill. Maybe the promise of love and life hadn’t been uppermost in his mind when his mother had been dying, but he had an inkling how helpless and hopeless she must have felt.
He couldn’t judge her for using procreation as a coping strategy, either, could he? Not when he’d employed it with her—in a rather shortsighted manner—when he’d been under the duress of Adara’s confession about Nic.
And where was the point in being angry about what she should have done? It couldn’t be undone. The child was here.
Still, he couldn’t face this, couldn’t face fatherhood. What kind of an example had been set for him? Look at his back.
Not that the children had any idea how useless he was. Once they’d scattered their new toys across the blanket Jaya had spread on the floor of the lounge, Evie brought him a book.
“Jaya’s the reader. I’m the sentry,” he said, motioning to his sprawled body acting as a fence between the corner of a chair and the length of the sofa to keep them corralled.
“Peas,” she implored with a heart-stealing smile, reeling him in an inch. Until today he hadn’t spent much time with her, but she was the most gentle, tender thing he’d ever seen, enchanted with Baby Zepper, chattering like old friends to Androu, missing her parents and thus taking to Jaya with impulsive hugs and embraces.
“Sure, I’ll read,” Jaya said breezily. “If Uncle takes the next dirty bottom.”
“Never mind. I got this.” Theo sat up so his back was against the edge of the sofa.
Evie wormed herself into his side, making him lift his elbow in surprise. The weight of her head felt surprisingly endearing as she let it droop against his rib cage.
He imagined she was just getting sleepy, but it still felt like a very trusting gesture, one that gave him a funny sensation of fullness around his heart.
As he started to read, Androu toddled over with a car clutched in his fist, drool glossing his chin. As he plopped down on Theo’s other side, a drip fell to slide down Theo’s wrist.
“Seriously, dude, I’m going to talk to your parents about your manners.”
“He can’t help teething,” Jaya scolded, coming across with a tissue to dry the boy’s face.
As she bent, Theo raised his hand so she could wipe the spit off his arm. Zephyr, balanced on her hip, read some kind of invitation from their body language and tilted out of her grip, reaching out with his short arms for Theo.
Jaya gasped, so caught by surprise she almost dropped the boy.
Theo had no choice but to catch him one-handed, guiding the boy into a safe landing against his chest. The tot flipped and slid into his lap like an otter down a log.
Distant base instincts cautioned him about the tiny feet kicking near his jewels, but a stronger, less easy to define reaction took over. He was shaken by the natural way Zephyr relaxed into him. It was passive aggression at its best, clashing into his protective inner walls with unseen yet gong-like reverberations. He’d been avoiding touching the boy, thinking he’d decide later whether he’d take an active part in the boy’s life, after he’d figured out what to make of the situation and how many options he had.
He didn’t want this puppy warmth sitting in his center, thawing the tight frozen pillars he used to brace himself against the world.
But when he looked up at Jaya, thinking to ask her to take him, her expression was so vulnerable, so fearful of rejection on the boy’s behalf, he couldn’t do that to her. Hell, he couldn’t do it to a child. To his son.
This situation was the most perplexing, dumbfounding circumstance of his life, but these little creatures were incredibly defenseless. Like her, he couldn’t understand how anyone could hurt a child. He certainly couldn’t do it himself.
Which didn’t make him father material, he reminded himself, ignoring the clenched sensation around his heart. Kids needed a lot more than the basics of food and shelter and a soft place to sit. Nascent things like love were beyond him so she was setting him up for failure with Zephyr. That was not something he could easily forgive, but he couldn’t hurt the boy out of anger with her.
Aware of Jaya standing over him, arms hugged across her middle, he refused to look up to see how she reacted to his playing human recliner.
“There was a farm up the road from my mother’s house in Chatham,” he said, trying for dismissive when he could hear the rattled edge in his tone. “I saw a sow there once, knocked over by her own piglets because they wanted to nurse. Now I know how she felt.” He wasn’t doing this because he wanted to, he implied. He had no choice.
He began to read aloud, silently willing her to go away. It was one thing to have his emotions hanging by a thread while children listened to him struggle through a story. They wouldn’t know the difference, but Jaya was perceptive. He hated knowing she could tell how confused and defenseless this made him.
After a few seconds, she drew a hitched breath.
“Do you know if Androu has a bottle before bed? I’m going to make one for Zeph.” Her voice was blessedly lacking in inflection.
“Text Adara and ask.”
“Okay, but—” She started across to her phone. “What have you told her? Does she know I’m here?”
“I told Gideon I’d recruited you, but that was when we first got here. They don’t know about...” He looked down at the dark head turning against his breastbone, more interested in the older babies and chewing his fist than the picture book.
Jaya didn’t answer. He thought she was texting until he heard the familiar shutter-click of the camera app. He glanced up in dismay.
She shrugged. “This might never happen again.” Her trim figure, encased in three-quarter length jeans and a lime-green shirt, disappeared toward the kitchenette.
He drew in a breath that burned his lungs, suddenly wondering whether he had any choice when it came to involvement in his son’s life. Jaya might have made up
her mind that this might never happen again.
CHAPTER SEVEN
“I CAN HONESTLY say this has been the most grueling day of my life,” Theo said, flopping onto the sofa when he and Jaya came back to the lounge after settling all the babies.
“Try nineteen hours of labor,” she chirped, picking up toys rather than sitting.
Guilt assailed him. He’d put his sister’s pregnancy ahead of Jaya’s. Unknowingly, sure, but at the time he’d convinced himself he was putting both women’s best interests ahead of his own. Somehow he didn’t think saying so would be an easy sell to the woman who’d struggled through childbirth alone.
“Was it bad?” he asked, bracing inwardly while leaning to gather the toys within reach.
“It wasn’t a picnic, but it was fairly typical. He was worth it.”
“That’s what my sister says. I don’t know how women do it.” He searched her expression, awed that she wasn’t berating him.
“You just do. There’s no time to figure out how.” Clenching a stuffed panda between her tense brown hands, she said, “Kind of like the way I sprang him on you. There wasn’t any opportunity to prepare you, but you still seem furious so let’s have it. Don’t keep giving me the robot mode of being terribly polite. If you want to yell, yell. Except, don’t wake the babies, but—” She sighed sharply. “I know you feel lied to, but I swear I didn’t do it for money or to take advantage of you.”
His heart turned over in his chest. He wished he could dismiss her as conniving. It would be so much easier to keep his own emotions out of it if she had none, but one of her main attractions for him beyond the physical had always been her earnest sincerity.
“I believe that money was the last thing on your mind.”
Her smile of relief made him wish they could leave it there, but she needed to fully comprehend the rest. Leaning his elbows on his knees, he rubbed his face, trying to erase any sign of the turmoil still blowing like a hurricane inside him.
“But whether you want money or not, it’s the only thing you’ll ever get from me.”