by Lia Lee
He looked up to see her standing in the doorway, her eyes wide and her jaw slack.
He stifled the urge to laugh, because his first instinct was to provide an explanation and begin with the words It’s not what it looks like.
“He fell asleep,” Gerard said simply instead.
For some reason, Hartford’s lips twitched, and he furrowed his brows.
“God, I’m glad you’re amused because I had a feeling you’d be pissed.”
She covered her mouth briefly and chuckled. “How did this even happen?”
He shook his head. “We were playing, and he just wiped himself out.”
“How long has he been like this?” She came closer to stroke her son’s forehead. Gerard’s throat clogged up. He remembered his own father touching his forehead like that.
“He fell asleep about half an hour ago. Now I can’t breathe thinking I’ll wake him up.”
Hartford grinned, and he looked up at her face in wonder. She looked fresher, her skin brighter. “You can move all you want. He doesn’t wake when he’s napping. He’s good for at least two hours.”
Gerard swallowed and slowly slid backward to rest his back against the couch. “Thank God.” Hartford bit her lip to keep from smiling, and Gerard abandoned his fork on his plate. “You’re feeling better?”
“Yeah. Got some work done, finally. Now I can spend some guilt-free time with Trent.” She glanced at him sideways. “Thanks for your help today.”
“You don’t have to thank me.” He clenched his teeth and looked away. If he had stayed with the woman he’d loved and made a baby with, the same thing he was being thanked for would’ve been his job, day in and day out. Would he have enjoyed it? Well, maybe not every day all day, but he would’ve done it. “Trent’s a good kid.”
“That he is.”
“My parents are really fond of him.”
Harford smiled. “They are the best grandparents he could’ve had.”
His heart pounded with the anticipation of possibility. He wanted the moment to last. “Do your parents help out?” He was glad she was talking to him. After they had ended up making out on the balcony the night of the party, everything had spiraled downward. She talked to him as little as possible, and even their physio session was now mostly silent. Some sort of defense technique she was trying out, and he didn’t want to make it hard on her.
He recalled the taste of her mouth. It had been so long since he’d tasted her mouth, and so long since he’d been fantasizing to have it. If he were honest, every woman he’d ever kissed had reminded him of her, and he’d assumed that it was because she’d left him so abruptly, he’d never had time to deal with the breakup. But now he knew. There was no other woman like Hartford. Every woman he’d been with had been lacking and incomplete. Hartford was flawless, and it ached to admit that he still wanted her with the same ferocious hunger that he’d had when she was a virgin.
“My parents aren’t really around much.” She stared at the ground. “They love Trent, but they can’t help out. Anyway…” She pinned a smile on her face suddenly to halt that topic of discussion. “Did Trent meet Mr. Poppy?” she asked exaggeratedly.
He chuckled. “Yeah.”
“Seriously, what is with that name?” She laughed.
“Well, he just looked at the duck and named it Poppy, so I said that’s a boy duck, and he improvised by adding Mister.”
Hartford giggled and the sound gave him goose bumps. When she stroked Trent’s arm, he glanced down at the child. Was this what it would’ve been like? If they were an actual real family, would he have this moment every day, several times a day?
He lived alone. He frequently held parties at his place, and the women who frequented those parties were always vying for a chance to get into his bed. He’d thought he was happy with that life, but now it all seemed so frivolous.
He had a much better time watching Hartford talk to Trent, smile at him, and stroke his forehead—which she did often. She was so affectionate and patient. He didn’t really remember the patient part. That was something she’d learned to be either via her demanding career, or because of her son. The Hartford he remembered was stubborn and impatient and endearingly demanding.
“I can move him off your leg,” she offered.
Gerard jerked. “No, it’s fine.” His heart hammered, and Hartford gaped at him in wonder.
“It’s okay. He won’t wake up.”
“No, it really is all right. This is my good leg anyway.”
The housekeeper appeared and handed Hartford a plateful of steaming pasta, and Hartford dug into it immediately. “I’m starving.”
He ogled her profile as she ate. “Why did you end up going for sports medicine?”
Hartford paused in the middle of chewing and glanced at him. She didn’t have an answer to that. He could see it on her face.
“I’m sorry. I just remember you saying you wanted to go into dermatology.”
“I changed my mind,” she mumbled and stared into her plate.
He had been enjoying the lighthearted banter, the chance to get to know her again, and he’d blown it. “Hartford… the things we discussed on the evening of the party…”
She put her fork down and turned toward him. “Yeah?”
“I wasn’t putting my career before yours or… before Trent. You have to understand that I didn’t… God, I didn’t understand what implications my words would have. I was so high on my achievements and the promises of the future. And I had signed contracts and couldn’t pull out. I didn’t even think I could pull out of it.”
“I didn’t expect you to.”
He paused at the somber look in her eyes. He wanted to say more, but he was terrified. Now after all these years, he was getting a front-row view of everything he’d missed out on. The family he could’ve had, the child he could’ve seen growing up. The child who would’ve called him Dad instead of Gerard. His heart twisted at all that he’d lost. It was irrevocable. He couldn’t have that time back, and spending two days with Trent had given him a glimpse of the unconditional affection one could have for another person. He couldn’t tell Hartford that he was already hooked to Trent. That once she left, he would come to see him as often as he could. He was considering requesting joint custody of the child.
But he didn’t want to wreak havoc in her life either. He was so fucking trapped. His entire body was coiled for flight. He wanted to be a part of Trent’s life. He wanted Trent to know he was his father. He wanted to be there for Trent. But he didn’t want to destroy the calm life Hartford had built with her son.
“I hope it wasn’t too hard raising him alone.”
Hartford’s expression tightened, and she forcefully banished all remnants of emotion from her face. It was as if she was hiding something. It was as if she were shutting him out once and for all.
“It was hard,” she admitted with a sigh. “But I wouldn’t have had it any other way.”
***
Trent awoke the next morning excited about seeing Trent. When he went downstairs, he found Trent and Hartford having breakfast.
“Morning.”
“Good morning,” Trent squealed and slid out of his chair, running toward Gerard. Gerard didn’t pull back anymore. He was getting incurably used to the boy’s enthusiastic hugs and touches.
Hartford felt only mildly uneasy when Gerard joined them at the breakfast table. She was getting used to having Trent around them too. She focused on her breakfast while Gerard and Trent talked about, yet again, Mr. Poppy.
It was an endearing conversation, and she found herself trying to be annoyed by it, but it was heartwarming to have Trent hit it off with his father. She didn’t really hate Gerard for the decisions he had made, and she’d gotten payback by the way she snipped him out of her life all those years ago. So she tried to feel nothing. But she found herself secretly longing for a life where this would be the norm. That she could be like the average woman who lived with the father of their children and c
ould experience firsthand how poignant it was.
“Do you know what we’re going to do today?” Gerard asked Trent.
Trent giggled and picked up a tiny piece of his egg with his fingers, dropping it into his mouth. “What?”
“We’re going to play football.”
Hartford coughed on her bite as it got stuck in her throat.
“You okay?” Gerard handed her his glass of water, and she quickly took it, taking a sip.
“Football! I love football.”
“Do you, now?” Gerard chuckled at the boy’s eagerness.
“I’m done eating; we can go play now.”
Gerard shook his head just as Hartford was about to speak up. Their eyes met and she stayed silent. “You need your energy to play football. See all those eggs on my plate? I’m going to finish them off, and I’ll get the energy I need to play.”
Hartford gaped at Trent as he quickly dug unto the eggs he’d been picking at for the last ten minutes. Hartford met Gerard’s gaze and thanked him with her eyes, but she regretted it instantly. She wished she could put a stop to this. It was confusing her too much. She could only image how much it would confuse a three-year-old boy. When they returned home and Gerard wasn’t around anymore to play dad, Trent would ask questions, and he’d be hurt.
The boys left to play, and Hartford bit her lip trying to summon up the will to ask Gerard to keep it easy on his leg. That was her primary job here, but she let Trent’s needs get in the way of her job.
She shoved the thought out of her mind and went upstairs to work. She wondered if she’d ever trust a man around Trent the way she trusted Gerard. She wouldn’t. She was paranoia on legs, and maybe that was the reason she never seriously dated anyone.
***
Gerard glanced around for a sight of Hartford, and when he didn’t see her, he slid his hands underneath Trent and dragged his head over his thigh again. Then he sighed as the boy’s hand lay on the top of his leg. He watched Trent, clenching his fist as he tried hard not to succumb to the urge of stroking his forehead like Hartford did.
He stared at Trent’s parted lips, his chubby cheeks squashed on his muscled thigh as he slept. This was not what he had thought it would be. In all truth, he had never really pictured a life with Trent. He’d envisioned short visits, maybe some trips to see him while he was in his parents’ care, but he never truly thought he could have an actual relationship with him.
Maybe fate had brought Hartford and Trent back into his life to give him a second chance. He already knew Hartford didn’t hate him. She’d forgive him. She almost understood his side of the story even if she didn’t condone it. Her ravenous, greedy kiss on the balcony had proven she still wanted him with the same urgency.
What if he took a chance and gambled it all? He wouldn’t have to change anything. He’d simply have to seduce Hartford.
He lifted his hand and slid his fingertips tentatively over Trent’s shoulders. His heart beat ferociously, and he swallowed to fight the emotion overtaking him. Trent had been a baby, but Gerard hadn’t seen him. Gerard hadn’t seen any of Trent’s milestones, and he didn’t know what his own son loved eating or playing or doing. Or how he went to sleep and if he woke up grumpy or excited for the day. He didn’t know Trent, and he wanted to.
And he wanted Hartford back. He wanted her to smile at him more often. He wanted her to trust him and have faith in him and his partnership, and he wanted her to know that he was around to be the parent for Trent.
He jumped guiltily as he spotted Hartford standing beside him.
“He’s asleep again?”
“Yeah.” Gerard grinned. “Your son”—his voice was ecstatic—“loves football.”
Hartford fought a smile at the happiness in his voice and narrowed her eyes. “I seriously doubt that.”
“Why?” he asked as Hartford sat beside Trent’s feet.
“Because he’s never really played football. Your father has his bad back, and your mother likes keeping him in the house for safety reasons.”
Garrard grimaced. “That’s no way for a three-year-old boy to live. He needs to go out, kick some dirt, climb trees.”
Hartford winced. “No trees, thank you.”
“Come on. I climbed trees and I’m alive and well.”
“You fell out of a tree and broke your arm once. Your mother told me, so she’s completely against any rough games and so am I.”
“Pffff. We played rough football today, and guess what?”
“What?”
“Trent scraped his knee.”
Hart gasped at the blatant and possessive pride in Gerard’s voice. She gripped Trent’s calf to inspect the scrape. “When? Why didn’t you call me? Did he cry?”
“Of course he cried. I let him cry, and then he got over it and we played some more.”
Hartford saw the red scrape on his little knee and her heart broke. She kissed the side of his leg. Gerard was trying to toughen him up, and from her expressions, it seemed as if it didn’t seem like a bad idea to her.
“Maybe he needs that. Maybe I shelter him too much being a single mother.”
He resisted the urge to grab her and apologize for leaving her a single mother. “Let him scrape his knee and break some bones.”
“Jesus,” Hartford said, laughing. “Remind me not to let you alone with him ever again.”
Gerard knew she was joking.
“If Trent were a girl, would you still encourage rough play?”
“Absolutely,” he said vehemently. “If he were a girl, I’d be playing the exact same things.” When Hartford looked skeptical, he lifted his brow, his heart hammering as he said the words he thought, without filtering them. His heart pounded. “Why don’t we have a girl and you can test me on this?”
Hartford’s smile froze and she blushed, then looked away as her smile evaporated. “I can’t believe you said that.”
Gerard’s skin was ablaze with want, with the desperation. “I’ve never been good with concealing with my feelings, have I?”
She shook her head. “Not really. And you’ve seldom meant what you’re saying anyway.”
“When I say something rotten I don’t mean it, but when I’m saying something nice, I always mean it.”
Hartford chuckled sarcastically, still visibly reeling from what he’d said. “Does your last controversial statement fall in the rotten category or the nice category?”
“Nice,” he insisted softly. “Have a girl who looks like you. How can that ever be rotten?”
She ignored the tenderness in his eyes. “That’s convenient, don’t you think?”
“Very. But it’s true too.”
Hartford sighed. “I should get him off your leg.”
Gerard clutched Trent’s shoulders to deter her from shifting him. It was time to be honest. It was time to try and get her back. He only had himself to blame for the past, and he’d be damned if he messed up his future too. “Actually, Trent was sleeping on the cushion, and I dragged him up here.”
Hertford looked up at him her eyes wide. “Why?”
Gerard’s eyes dropped to her lips and down her throat to the low neckline of her shirt where her cleavage tempted and aroused him. “Because he’s my son and I wanted him to sleep on my leg.”
Hartford paled. Obviously, she didn’t like the sound of that. His determined, possessive, territorial expression terrified her. She pulled back and clasped her hands together. “He was your son years ago too,” she shot at him mercilessly.
Gerard nodded but kept one hand firmly on Trent’s shoulder. “People make mistakes.”
“I don’t know what you’re trying to get at, but let’s just stop right here, all right? I’m way too stressed and overworked and tired to deal with your childish antics again.”
“Childish antics? Me wanting to be with my son is childish?”
“Yes. It is.” She glared at him. “Because you want things, and you want them badly like a spoiled brat, and when you have them, you thro
w them away.”
“I didn’t throw you away.” He grated his teeth, knowing exactly what she meant to say.
“Didn’t you? When things weren’t working out the way you’d planned for your life, you dumped me and ran off. You’ll do the same with Trent.”
“Hartford, Trent isn’t a commodity or an award. He’s been with you all this time, and I wanted to see him, sure, but I never wanted this with him.” He motioned toward Trent, who was sleeping on his leg. “But now I’ve had a taste of it, and I want it. I can’t apologize for wanting to have a relationship with my son.”
Hartford shot off the couch in mounting panic. “I’m going to take Trent up to the room.”
Gerard’s head tilted back, his fingers still clutching Trent’s shoulder. “This isn’t a power struggle, Hartford. I get barely an hour with him sleeping like this. Why can’t you bear it?”
“I can. God, I can bear it. It’s too wonderful a sight. But I can’t risk him getting hurt.” It was warming her heart to know Gerard was getting possessive about Trent. Trent only had one father, and that would remain a fact for all her life and his. No one could take Gerard’s place. Someone could end up being a good substitute, but it would never be the same as having his own father worrying for him, having his back, teaching him how to scrape knees and cry and then get on with the game.
Her face scrunching up as tears started flowing, she turned away lest Gerard saw her. She wanted the two of them to stay the way they were now. She wanted Trent to have a father. He had never really asked anything about his dad, but once he started school, she knew the questions would come. He’d see the other children, and then he’d ask. She knew. And she hated Gerard for making her hope that he could have his father around.
Her living conditions were a temporary arrangement. She had made the mistake of kissing Gerard, and that is why Gerard was trying to flirt her up, mentioning having another child and keeping Trent in his life. But the fact remained that she couldn’t trust Gerard again. Not after what she’d been through. And she couldn’t see herself having a relationship with a man she didn’t trust to stay put.
Besides, it was detrimental for Trent. He wouldn’t fare well after they returned home. How would she answer all his questions about Gerard when he wasn’t around? She wasn’t ready to do this. But she was too much of a weakling to hate the sight of father and son together. They were picture-perfect together, startlingly beautiful.