The Diaper Diaries

by Abby Gaines

  Tyler, well briefed as always, talked about sick kids and the strain illness put on families, and how the foundation was here to support families.

  One of the reporters asked if he had a particular interest in kidney disease. Tyler grabbed Bethany’s hand, tugged her forward.

  “This is Dr. Bethany Hart. Her research into antibody production is funded by the Warrington Foundation. The foundation is committed long term to supporting advances in understanding and treating pediatric kidney disorders.”

  To the journalists it might have been just a quotable quote. But Bethany’s ears latched on to the words long term.

  Tyler must plan to renew her funding. What else could he mean? Of course, she wasn’t rash enough to whip out her cell phone and call her parents—she’d wait until she knew exactly how much she was getting. But she had to struggle not to break into a skip.

  One of the reporters asked for an update on Ben. Tyler described Ben’s latest development with an accuracy that surprised Bethany—he must have been reading those books.

  The crowd had questions about Ben, too. Tyler fielded queries about his sleeping and eating habits with aplomb. When he said he only had time for one more question, a teenage girl with blond dreadlocks raised her hand.

  “Do you think the baby would rather be with his mother?” she asked. She sounded distressed on Ben’s behalf, and Bethany wondered if maybe she’d been fostered herself.

  Dismay flashed across Tyler’s face, as if the thought of Ben’s mother hadn’t occurred to him in a while. Bethany took that as a good sign. A sign that he couldn’t easily relinquish Ben, because he was fond of him.

  When Tyler didn’t answer, she stepped forward and said carefully, “I don’t think Ben is consciously upset that he doesn’t have his mom. But I’m sure he has a bond with her that he doesn’t with anyone else.” The girl nodded doubtfully. Mindful of the listening media and the chance to reach out to Ben’s mother, Bethany added, “We would love for his mom to come forward, for her sake as well as his.”

  Deliberately, she shut down the voice that warned it wouldn’t be easy to hand Ben back. Then shut down her own speculation as to what Ben’s mother’s reappearance would do to Tyler, to her and to their relationship.

  AFTERWARD, THEY moved into the staff cafeteria for a coffee get-together with some of the nurses.

  At Tyler’s invitation, his mother joined them in the cafeteria, along with his brother, Max, who arrived just as they were on the move. Susan hugged Bethany in greeting.“Nice to see you.” Bethany hugged her back. “You too, Max.”

  “Darling,” Susan addressed her older son, “shouldn’t you be at work signing the multimillion-dollar contracts that are going to support me into my old age?”

  “And miss out on seeing Tyler being fawned over by all these nurses?” Max protested mildly.

  “He is rather popular.” Fondly, Susan watched Tyler charming the half-dozen nurses clustered around him.

  “Tyler did a wonderful job with the media,” Bethany said. “He’s so good at getting to the essentials of an issue and putting it in terms anyone can understand.”

  It wasn’t her job to make sure Tyler’s family appreciated him, but she couldn’t help herself.

  Susan and Max gave polite agreement, but didn’t show any interest in continuing to discuss Tyler’s accomplishments. But Bethany’s words had carried to the man himself, and he turned to look at her.

  She met his gaze…then she winked at him. Tyler laughed out loud, and excused himself from the nurses.

  “Don’t you know that winking at someone can ruin their concentration?” he complained as he reached her.

  “You’re a pro,” she reminded him with a smile. “Nothing I do could hurt you.”

  “Maybe not.” His gaze turned brooding. “Come out for lunch with me after this. Mom can take Ben back to her place.” He sent his mother a questioning look. Susan nodded.

  Bethany shrugged. “I guess lunch would be fine.”

  Tyler grinned. To judge by Bethany’s lack of enthusiasm, you’d think she wasn’t hot for him. He knew better. “I’ll find Ben, and we’ll hand him over to Mom.”

  The nurse who’d taken Ben originally no longer had him. She pointed Tyler in the direction of a group of nurses. Several of them held babies. He groaned inwardly. Not this again.

  “Ladies, how are you?” He edged into the circle with a smile and hoped someone would offer him Ben. They returned his greeting and politely tried to involve him in their conversation.

  Tyler replied to a question while he surreptitiously checked out the babies.

  Then he said to the nurse on his left, “May I take Ben now?” And held his breath.

  Maybe she replied right away, but to Tyler it felt like hours.

  “He’s so cute,” the woman said as she handed Ben over.

  “He is,” Tyler agreed mechanically, barely processing her words through his relief. He hugged Ben to him—hey, pardner, we did it!—and headed back to Bethany, who was now chatting to a doctor she evidently knew.

  “Why the goofy grin?” she asked.

  “I got the right baby.” He recounted what had happened.

  “I told you you’re bonding with him,” she said in her superior tone.

  “I’m not bonding,” Tyler growled. But his heart wasn’t in it.

  The familiar unmistakable aroma wafted from Ben’s diaper.

  “I’ll change him before we give him to Susan,” Bethany said.

  Tyler went with her. In the corridor, they found a parent-and-child bathroom.

  “You don’t get any less stinky as you get older,” she told Ben as she wiped him clean.

  He said something that might have been “Ah goo.”

  “Goo indeed,” she said severely as she bundled the mess into a plastic bag. “He’s been saying that sort of thing for a couple of weeks,” she told Tyler, “which suggests he’s four months old.”

  Ben batted her face with his little hand. When she’d fixed the new diaper in place, she spent a couple of minutes playing peekaboo, a game that involved Bethany holding a receiving blanket between her and Ben. She slowly lowered the blanket, and when Ben saw her eyes and started to smile, she said, “Peekaboo,” and blew a raspberry on his bare tummy, which had Ben squirming and laughing.

  “Can anyone play?” Tyler asked.

  “Sure.” She offered him the blanket.

  “I wanted Ben’s part,” he said.

  “Don’t be silly.” But her eyes wandered over him, and Tyler would bet she was thinking about what she could do to him naked, just as, increasingly, he was thinking that about her. It had to happen soon.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  TYLER WAS AWARE he’d gotten carried away during today’s informal press conference. He’d talked to half a dozen sick kids, and the next minute he was committing the foundation to long-term support of kidney disease. His usual strategy of noninvolvement—or as Bethany would say, non-caring—suddenly made a whole lot of sense.

  He knew exactly what Bethany would be thinking after this morning’s visit.He couldn’t let her.

  He took her to Magritte, one of Atlanta’s most expensive restaurants. When the maître d’helped Bethany out of the coat she’d worn all the way around the hospital, it turned out she’d actually dressed sexy today, though he doubted she knew that. Skinny black pants emphasized the length of her legs, and her faded green scoop-necked T-shirt had a shabby-chic, shrunk-in-the-wash look that sat a half inch above the waistband of her pants and enticingly low on her breasts.

  Bethany looked around at the restaurant’s soaring ceilings, the chandeliers, the plush banquette seating.

  Her interest in her surroundings meant she didn’t notice the curious appraisal of several male diners, all accompanied by much more glamorously, elegantly dressed women. Tyler found himself taking her hand possessively as the maître d’ led them to the table that would be unavailable to most people arriving without a reservation.

  �
�This place is incredible,” Bethany said after the waiter had handed them menus and poured water into their glasses. She scanned the leather-bound menu. “So are the prices.”

  Tyler held up a hand. “I don’t want to know how many kidney transplants you could do for the price of the lobster entrée.”

  She feigned disappointment. “You’re so shallow.”

  They ordered their food and two glasses of wine. Tyler sat back, watched her from beneath lowered lids. “Do you realize this is the first time we’ve been out on our own, without Ben?”

  Bethany spread her fingers on the banquette’s taupe micro-suede. “We’ll probably have nothing to say to each other.”

  “Probably,” he agreed.

  Then he asked her a question about one of the less friendly doctors he’d met today, and that led to a conversation about people with Napoleon complexes.

  The time flew until the waiter arrived with their appetizers.

  Tyler watched Bethany savor her tomato-and-basil soup with grilled prawns. He found it oddly satisfying to observe her enjoying herself. That’s because if she’s enjoying herself, she’s not nagging me.

  “Thanks for sticking up for me with Mom and Max today,” he said.

  She put down her spoon. “I only told the truth.”

  “You had to see the truth first,” he said. “My family has never gotten beyond the playing around I used to do.”

  “Used to?”

  He laughed. “Used to do a lot more. The foundation is big business these days, I have to take it seriously. But I doubt Max will ever see that.”

  “His jealousy won’t let him,” Bethany agreed.

  Tyler choked on his water. “Max isn’t jealous of me.”

  “Of course he is.” She took a ladylike sip of her wine.

  “Why?”

  She sighed as if he was too dense for words. “Because you’re Susan’s favorite.”

  He recoiled. “Garbage.”

  Bethany put down her wineglass, leaned in. “Tyler, your mom hangs on your every word and dismisses most of what Max says, unless it’s about the business.”

  “Mom thinks of me as someone to help out at afternoon tea,” he said.

  “That’s because you’re her precious boy.” Bethany grinned at his revulsion. “She adores you. I’m not saying she doesn’t love Max, but you’re the one she dotes on.”

  It was true, Tyler realized. His mom was much more indulgent toward him than she was to Max. “And you think Max sees that?”

  The bitter edge to her laugh reminded Tyler what her brother had said about his and Bethany’s parents loving Melanie the most. “Believe me, he sees it. And believe me when I tell you that if you said this to your mom, she wouldn’t accept it and she’d be hurt.”

  “I won’t say anything.” Tyler sat back for the waiter to deliver his entrée.

  They ate in silence for a few minutes. Then Bethany said, “Tyler, about the foundation’s support for kidney kids.” She put down her cutlery, fixed him with a searching look. “Was that just heat-of-the-moment stuff to impress the journalists? Or did you mean it?”

  He’d been expecting the question, and he had his answer ready. “I didn’t intend to say it, but now that I have, I’ll stick with my word.”

  She shook her head, her smile tremulous. “I can’t believe it.”

  He reached across the table, laid his hand on hers. The warm heat of her skin felt like home—he couldn’t have drawn back if he’d tried. “Bethany, it’s not as simple as you think. I want you to pitch to the PhilStrat Committee again, for however much money you need. The next meeting is in two weeks, does that give you enough time?”

  Her eyes shone. “It’s fine. Better than fine, it’s wonderful.”

  Now came the difficult part. “I need to tell you I’ve had an application from another research team in the same field—from the Hospital for Sick Children in Toronto.”

  Bethany opened her mouth, then closed it again. She chewed her lip. “I’d have thought the Warrington Foundation was off their radar, I wonder how they—” She shook her head. “Of course, Sick Kids has a great kidney team,” she said abstractedly. “But, Tyler, I am going to do such a great job of my pitch, you won’t recognize it.”

  The excitement in her face softened him inside in a way he didn’t recognize. But he couldn’t afford to go easy on her. “You’ll need to.” He lifted his hand from hers. “You know, Bethany, this isn’t all my decision. The committee decides who gets the funds.”

  “Of course,” she said quickly. “But I know I can do a great job, and as an incumbent project, I must have some advantage.”

  That was true. It was easier for someone who already had funding to get more than to break in from scratch. The other truth was, although the decisions were made by committee, Tyler had the casting vote. He couldn’t even claim a conflict of interest; the foundation’s charter stipulated that applications from Warrington Group employees and related parties were to be encouraged. One big, happy family…he groaned inwardly.

  As they ate their entrées, chatting about everything and nothing, Tyler realized he hadn’t had so much fun in a long time. It wasn’t his usual kind of fun. In fact, it was so suspiciously close to good clean fun that it had him wanting to hightail it out of here and seduce a pastor’s daughter.

  The thought slammed home that the only woman he wanted to seduce was Bethany.

  OLIVIA HAD SPENT almost every evening with Silas since that first time he’d kissed her. Ostensibly, it was to help with his presentation, but every day their kisses grew more heated. They started the second she walked in the door, occurred at regular intervals through the evening, and severely delayed her departure at the end.

  They ate together most nights and, on weekends, they had whole days to revel in each other’s company. With Silas’s lack of interest in small talk, those were quiet days—but Olivia found she didn’t miss talking about food, books, mutual acquaintances. On the occasions Silas had something to say, it was serious. At first she had to stretch her mind to accommodate the conversation and found herself praying it would be over before she made a fool of herself. But Silas’s patience meant she never felt under pressure, and somehow they always connected. Olivia had never talked so little yet felt as if she’d said so much.When she was with Silas, nothing existed except the two of them. And the frogs.

  They didn’t go any further than those kisses and increasingly intimate touches. Physically, Olivia was frustrated. Emotionally, she was almost willing to wait. Silas had lost his wife, he had some irrational sense of guilt over whether she’d been happy or not. He wouldn’t rush past those obstacles, but ultimately he’d get there. And then…

  For the first time, Olivia had none of those doubts about whether a man could love her enough. Once Silas made up his mind to move on from his old life, he would be hers, for always. And then, she would love him back.

  In the meantime, she made maximum space for him in her life. She’d bowed out of her book club meeting, a friend’s daughter’s bridal shower and a bachelorette party for an acquaintance embarking on her third marriage. But when she tried to cancel dinner with Susan Warrington, things got sticky.

  “Who is it?” Susan demanded. “I know you’re seeing someone.”

  “What did Tyler say?”

  “You told Tyler and you didn’t tell me?”

  Drat, she’d given herself away. “I’m…interested in a man who’s pitching to the foundation.”

  “A doctor?” Susan asked excitedly. “What charity is he with?”

  “He’s a professor, actually. Physics. His name is Silas.”

  “I want you both here for dinner on Friday,” Susan ordered.

  Olivia tried not to reveal her alarm in her voice. “We’re not really dating.”

  “I’ll invite Tyler and Bethany. You can tell Silas it’s a chance to get to know Tyler before he pitches.” Susan’s tone held the implacability that compelled even her two strong sons to accede to her de
mands; Olivia didn’t stand a chance. “If you won’t invite him, I’ll have Tyler do it.”

  Olivia could just imagine Tyler’s response to that. “I’ll invite him,” she said. “But, Susan…”

  “Yes, sweetie?” Susan was nice as pie now that she had her own way.

  “Silas isn’t the kind of man I usually date. He’s not very sociable.”

  Silence. “I’m sure we can draw him out,” Susan had finally said.

  OLIVIA WARNED Silas the evening at Susan’s might not be to his liking.

  “Take a risk,” he told her, smiling.“I’m not afraid,” she lied. “I just thought you might not enjoy it.”

  “I’ll risk it,” he said with gentle irony.

  Olivia picked him up from his house because she couldn’t guarantee that he’d bring the Maserati rather than the truck. By the time they got to Susan’s, the others were already there.

  Silas and Tyler had never met before. They appraised each other in the way strong men do—the handshakes were overly firm, the greetings were respectful but not too friendly. Both appeared to be reserving judgment.

  Olivia tried to see Silas through Tyler’s and Susan’s eyes…and quailed. He’d made an effort, but it wouldn’t be obvious to anyone else. His chinos were wrinkled, his white shirt was missing a button. He fell far short of the sartorial standard set by Tyler, impeccable in dark pants and ironed shirt.

  Susan looked mystified from the moment Silas walked into her living room. Olivia could understand her initial reaction, but half an hour later Susan was still nibbling on her bottom lip every time Silas spoke. Admittedly, he was getting somewhat carried away in his discourse about conservation…. But couldn’t Susan see he had more emotion, more depth in his little finger than all the other men they knew put together?

  Bethany made a valiant effort to talk to Silas, asking him intelligent questions about frogs. Which, perversely, annoyed Olivia, who’d never pretended a genuine interest in the red-spotted tree frog. Silas hadn’t seemed to mind, but Olivia didn’t need Bethany being so curious about the thing.