His heart crunched into a tight ball just thinking of her—just thinking that he might have lost her.
* * *
Joey heard the argument being conducted on the stairs right through her reasonably heavy door.
One voice, the shrill one, belonged to Jean, her neighbour on the floor below, and the self-appointed ruler of the building.
‘You had no right to just walk in behind me,’ she was saying. ‘Go back down and ring the bell of Joanne’s apartment the way you’re supposed to do. Then she’ll ask you who you are and let you in if she wants you in.’
The other voice was softer, less distinct, definitely male and hauntingly familiar.
Max?
It couldn’t be!
Max here?
The voices were growing louder, Jean’s more strident, the male voice more insistent.
‘I’m telling you—’ from Jean.
Would he push her down the stairs? Would she push him?
Joey could stand it no longer. She opened the door and peered down to the landing below where the argument was taking place.
‘Tell him what, Jean?’ she asked.
‘That you might not want to see him. He followed me in, Joanne. I didn’t realise it until he caught up on the landing.’
But Joey was beyond responding, beyond words, for it was Max looking up at her, a Max she barely recognised as uncertainty had blurred his features.
But only for an instant, for now he was coming up towards her, two steps at a time, Jean still bleating protests as he reached the top and took Joey in his arms.
‘I love you,’ he said, loudly enough for the whole building to hear. ‘I realised I hadn’t said it, or maybe I didn’t know it then and needed to have you taken from me to realise it. But I do love you, Joey, and Harry too, because Harry’s mine, you know that, it’s the bonding thing you spoke of. We’ve bonded. We’re family, Joey.’
She was as gobsmacked as she assumed Jean, still hovering below, must be, but as Joey looked into Max’s face, so close to hers, so familiar, so loved, she saw that terrible uncertainty creeping back into it and knew she couldn’t have that.
‘And I love you,’ she whispered, and kissed him on the lips.
Hunger flared between them, the kiss deepening until every cell in her body trembled with desire, and it was all she could do to get both of them inside the door before she ran her hands across his body, feeling him, remembering him, ready to strip away his clothes so they could learn each other completely for the very first time.
A little bleat from a bedroom—
‘The master’s voice?’ Max said, his voice so husky she knew his hunger was as desperate as her own.
‘Of course,’ Joey muttered, ‘and it’s bathtime as well. Then, wouldn’t you know it, this is the time of the day when he stays awake for an hour or so, expecting to be entertained.’
Max hugged her close.
‘I think we can wait an hour or two,’ he said, nuzzling a kiss against her neck. ‘After all, we’ve got a lifetime of loving ahead of us, my darling.’
And as Joey broke away she felt her heart swell, all the pieces back in place.
‘He’s in the back bedroom, he’ll be pleased to see you,’ she told Max, who looked at her, uncertain again.
‘Of course he’s yours,’ she told him. ‘He’s been asking for you every day.’
She followed Max into Harry’s room and saw the love radiating from Max’s face as he bent over the bassinet.
‘Hi, little man,’ he said softly, and Harry smiled his first smile—his very first—and as he hadn’t been fed, it couldn’t possibly be wind.
Max picked him up and changed him, then carried him into the living room, handing him to Joey, who was tugging open her bra.
Then he sat on the arm of the big chair and watched them both—his family—and talked of Africa, of missing them and that learning love was essential for his life. Love and a family to love.
And Joey told him how she’d missed him, how the long empty days had dragged without him—without even allowing herself to think about him, assuming he was gone forever.
‘I could have to go away again,’ Max reminded her, and she smiled at him over their baby’s head.
‘But you’ll be with me in my thoughts, with us both, because you’re in our hearts and we’re in yours so we’ll never really be separated.’
Grown men didn’t cry, especially strong men who climbed great mountains and went on rescue missions. So Max dug in his pocket and found the ring, and through only slightly blurry eyes slipped it onto Joey’s finger. Then he kissed her on the top of her head and touched Harry’s cheek and said thank you to the fates for giving him such joy.
EPILOGUE
MAX HAD BEEN up for hours, hanging balloons and streamers in the big fig tree in the park across the road from the apartment, marking out the area for their party.
From the bedroom window, Joey could see the results of his labour, and she lifted Harry, who was zooming a small car around her feet, so he could share the view.
His smile, though, was not for balloons or streamers but for his father, who was crossing the road on his way back to the apartment.
‘Dada,’ Harry cried, patting his hand against the glass.
‘Yes, Dada will be home soon,’ Joey assured him, setting him back on the floor and stretching her already aching muscles in her back.
This second baby—this unexpected gift because they’d not known if Max could father a child—had been more difficult to carry, awake and kicking when Joey wanted to sleep, pressing a foot hard on its mother’s bladder when she was seeing a patient.
They’d both decided they didn’t want to know the sex, and now the birth was imminent Joey found herself arguing for both—wouldn’t a girl be fun, but a brother for Harry would be great as well.
‘In the meantime, young man,’ she said as she moved a small car from under her foot, ‘we have your birthday party. Grandad and Grandma will be here, and Aunty Lissa and Kirstie, and Nana Winthrop with a whole hoard of assorted Winthrop aunts, uncles and cousins. Your father should have chartered a plane to bring them down.’
For Max’s predictions had been right. His family had showered Harry with gifts and affection, enclosing Joey in the love they had for each other, giving her a wider family than she and Max and Harry. They came and went, always calling in if they were in town, often coming especially to see them. In fact, it was Max’s mum, Linda, who would stay on so there’d be someone here for Harry when Joey went to hospital for this baby, and one of Max’s nieces did the nanny work, minding Harry when Joey returned to work part-time.
‘A family too big for you ever to be alone again,’ Max had said to her when they’d travelled north to be married in his home town.
And as Joey had got to know them, she’d realised how true the words had been, for she’d been enfolded in their love, become one of them.
She’d never be alone again.
‘Dada!’ Harry yelled, and Joey knew Max must be on the stairs, for Harry always heard his tread before she did.
She lifted her son and went to the door, wanting to open it to him on this special day, the anniversary of their son’s birth but special for the two of them as well, for it was twelve months since the strangest of mistakes and coincidences had brought her and Max together, twelve months since her journey into love had begun.
‘Love you,’ Max said, kissing Harry on the head before lifting him onto his hip.
‘And you,’ he said to Joey, drawing her close, holding her tightly, breathing kisses on her head. ‘More than words can ever say,’ he added quietly.
She looked up at him and saw the words echoed in his eyes—a look of such overwhelming love she felt her bones melt and wondered if she’d ever st
op melting when Max looked at her, or held her, or told her that he loved her.
‘Love you too,’ she whispered, and reached up, awkwardly, to kiss him on the lips.
* * * * *
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ISBN-13: 9781460335628
THE ACCIDENTAL DADDY
Copyright © 2014 by Meredith Webber
All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
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