Her Little White Lie (12 page)

“I am now,” he said, running his stinging hand over his hair.

“Good, she’s almost here.” Paige turned and flitted out of the room and he followed her. Paige had adjusted Ana so that she was up against her chest, Ana’s bright eyes peeking over Paige’s shoulder. Looking right at him.

He had no experience with babies, and no particular desire to become experienced with them. And this one, this tiny, perfectly formed human, seemed to look straight into
him. As if she could see everything. And yet, her expression remained clear and bright. As if she saw it all, and it made no difference.

He realized then that there was one thing that had been neglected. He and Paige were meant to present themselves as a couple, but he’d forgotten that Ana would be with them. That he would have to find some ease with her, as well.

Suddenly, Ana’s little face crumpled and she let out a high-pitched whine. Paige stopped completely, adjusting the baby’s position, stroking her little cheek. It was amazing to see the effect Ana had on Paige. The little whirlwind of a woman was serene with her daughter in her arms. Her focus entirely on her.

Ana squeaked again and Paige started to sing. A soft, sweet sound. A lullaby. Terror curled around his heart, terror he hadn’t anticipated, and couldn’t shake off.

Paige bent forward, her necklace falling toward Ana as she continued to sing.

Cold sweat broke out over his skin, a sick, heavy weight hitting him in the gut and just lying there in him.

He knew one lullaby. And it was in Italian. If he closed his eyes, he could see his mother, leaning over his bed, her necklace hanging down, just as Paige’s was doing now. Singing softly, her hand comforting on his forehead.

He shook off the memory, but it tried to hold him, tried to make him see it all. His mother, first alive and so beautiful, and then …

He swallowed hard and took in a breath. “Let’s go,” he said, his voice too rough, too harsh.

Paige’s head snapped up and she looked at him with startled eyes. It made his heart twist. “Sorry,” she said.

He shook his head. “No, I’m sorry. I am not myself today.”

He wished that were true. Sadly, he feared he was more himself today than he ever usually allowed himself to be.

“Well, get it together. If you blow this … if we blow this … I can’t lose her.”

He looked at the little, fussing baby, and back at the woman who was, in every way that mattered, her mother.

“I know,” he said, teeth gritted, heart pounding.

They couldn’t blow it. Paige couldn’t lose Ana, he knew that. But more importantly, Ana couldn’t lose her. Because he knew, better than most, just how much of a loss it would be.

“Did it go well? I think it went well.” Paige knew she was chattering, but she couldn’t help herself.

The interview was over and they were out on the terrace on the second floor of the house. Dante’s housekeeper had barbecued for them, and they were sitting now, their plates empty, looking out at the ocean. Ana was lying happily on her stomach on a large cushion that had been placed out for her, rocking back and forth and flailing her hands and feet.

“I think it went fine,” Dante said.

There was no sign of the dark, angry man who had been in the hall earlier. There hadn’t been any sign of him from the moment Rebecca Addler had walked through the door.

He’d charmed her, utterly. Clearly, the media’s stories about him hadn’t bothered her in the least or, if they had, Dante in the flesh had erased them in a moment.

He had that effect, that ability to make everything seem fine and easy. He exuded total and complete confidence, no matter the situation. He certainly interviewed better than she did, which was galling, because it showed her just how faulty something like this could be. She was the one who loved Ana, with all of her heart, and yet, he was the one who had charmed the social worker.

Thank God he was on her team.

“Well, I’m glad you’re feeling confident.”

“Why worry, Paige, the outcome will be the same either way.”

“Easy for you to say. She’s … everything to me.”

“I know,” he said, his tone serious. “And, I swear I will not let you lose her. Whatever it takes.”

“Really? Why? Why would you … why would you do that?”

“Because I know what it is to lose a mother,” he said, his tone cold. “I know what it is to drift from home to home, no one wanting you. That she is being spared the brunt of it, because of you … I will always have her be spared from it, and if I can help in any way then I will.”

She looked over at Ana, and for the first time, she let the fear that was always ready to pounce on her, overtake her fully. “Can I do this? Am I really the best person?” She looked at Dante. “Tell me. Because I’m scared I’m going to mess it up.”

He looked stunned for a moment. “I … I confess, I’m not the best person to judge how healthy a family is. But you love her. I remember love. I remember when I could feel it. I remember my mother. And the way you hold her, the way she feels when you’re near, that’s what it is.”

A lump in her throat tried to block her words. “But I mess everything up,” she said. “Ask anyone. My family, my teachers, my friends. I always got such bad grades in school. In math and science and history. I liked to read. I did well in English and art. But the other stuff … I could hardly pass a class. I did so poorly that my parents wouldn’t help me get to college. And of course I couldn’t get a scholarship. And no one was surprised. Because they just … expect it from me.” She blinked back tears. “I have messed up about every major life moment a person has. First kisses, prom, getting into college. What if I screw this up, too?”

“You haven’t messed everything in your life up,” he said, taking on that confident tone that was so familiar to her now. “You do well at your job. Exceedingly well. You lost your best friend and you carried on, both with work and with raising
her child. Do you know how many people would have been content to simply let the State take over? So many, Paige. And you didn’t do that. You come through when it matters.”

“But I’m scared to want it,” she said. “I’m scared of how much I care for her.”

He frowned and looked out at the sea, the lines by his eyes deepening. “Emotion is the single most dangerous thing I can think of. The kind that controls you. Makes you do things you never thought you were capable of. But … I can see the way it pushes you with her. You told the social worker you were engaged to your boss. You were willing to do anything, take any risk, for her. There is power in that. And your love seems to have power for good. Trust that.”

His words were encouraging in a way, but so laced with a bitter sadness that they settled in her like lead.

“And what about your emotions?” she asked. “What power do you see in them?”

He looked at her, his dark eyes glittering. “I looked in myself, and saw the potential for terrible things. And since that day I haven’t felt anything. I find my power from somewhere else, a place I can control.”

She felt like someone had reached into her chest, grabbed her heart and squeezed it tight. “Dante … you’re helping me. I look in you and I see so much good.”

“Then you are blind.” He stood up and walked off the terrace into the house, and all she could do was stare at his back retreating into the shadows.

She’d seen that emptiness again. That same look he’d gotten in the hall just before he’d snapped at her. That same look he’d had in her office when they’d kissed. She’d taken it for emotionlessness but it wasn’t that.

It was something else. Something worse. Something she was afraid she couldn’t help him with.

H
E
heard crying. He moved to a sitting position in bed and swung his legs over the side, his feet planted on the carpet.

Ana was crying.

He stood and walked out of his room, striding down the hall. He opened the door to the nursery, casting a sliver of light into the room. He saw Paige, sitting in the rocking chair, holding Ana, rocking her, patting her back. Ana was crying still. And so was Paige. Glittery tracks down her cheeks.

His first instinct was to turn away. To walk away from the scene as quickly as possible, go back to bed. Shut down the strange emotions that were rising up, pressing on his throat.

“Is everything okay?”

“No,” Paige said thickly. “She’s been crying for an hour and she won’t stop. I’ve tried everything. I fed her, I changed her. I’m holding her. I turned the light on, I turned it off. I don’t know what else to do.”

“I’m sure it’s nothing you’re doing wrong.”

“What if it is?” she whispered, despair lacing her voice.

He took a step into the room, ignoring the tightness in his chest. “Babies cry, for no reason sometimes.”

He’d heard that said, though he wasn’t sure where.

“But Ana doesn’t, usually.”

“Does she have a fever?” That seemed a logical question.

Paige put her cheek down on Ana’s head. “I don’t think
so.” She smoothed her hands over the baby’s brow. “She doesn’t feel warm to me. Does she feel warm to you?”

He couldn’t bring himself to touch her. She was a tiny creature, fragile. Small-boned. Delicate. He didn’t want to put his hands on her.

“I don’t think she’s warm,” he said.

Paige put her hand on the baby’s forehead. “No, you’re right. I don’t think she is. Could you sing to her?”

“Sing?” he asked.

“A lullaby.”

His breath stalled in his throat, got trapped there. “I don’t know any lullabies,” he lied.

“Oh … that’s okay.” She patted Ana on the back. “I tried to sing and she just cried harder so I thought maybe you could …”

“Sorry,” he said, curling his fingers into fists, fighting the urge to run from the room.

For that reason alone he had to stay. Dante Romani did not run. He would not.

Ana hiccuped, her tiny shoulders jerking with the motion. Her cries slowed, quieted, until they became muffled, sporadic whimpers.

He watched her for a few moments, silence settling between them as Paige continued to rock Ana until the whimpering ceased altogether.

“See, she was just crying,” he said, trying to sound certain. Trying to feel some control over the situation when the simple fact was, he had none. There was a nursery in his home. There was a baby here. A woman. She had her things in his closet.

No, nothing was in his control anymore.

“I guess she was,” Paige whispered.

She got up from the chair and walked over to the crib, placing Ana gingerly onto the mattress, then straightening, freezing for a second while she waited to see if the baby would wake up.

The room stayed silent.

“She seems like she’s asleep now,” Paige whispered.

“You should sleep, too,” he said. She looked tired. Sad.

She wrapped her robe around herself, a little tremor shaking her body. “No. I don’t … I don’t think I could sleep right now.”

The desolation in her tone did something to him. Made his stomach feel tight.

“Hungry?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Not really. But do you have chocolate?”

He let out a long, slow breath. Paige was upset, obviously, and while he would usually walk away and get back in bed without a twinge of guilt, he couldn’t do that now. He wasn’t going to take the time to analyze why. “We’ll have to go raid the cupboards and find out. I’m not certain.”

“How can you not be sure if you have chocolate?” They walked out of the nursery and left the door open so they could hear Ana if she woke.

“I’m not accustomed to raiding my kitchen at odd hours.”

“I guess that’s why you have washboard abs and I don’t.” Her eyes were trained meaningfully on his bare torso. Her complete lack of guile amused him, and aroused him. She didn’t try to hide her open appraisal of him. And yet, it was different than the sort of open gazes he was used to seeing. There was no extra motive with Paige, only admiration.

He looked back at her, treating her to the same, intense study she’d treated him to. Her T-shirt molded to her breasts, her pajama pants sitting low on her hips. Too baggy for his taste. He wanted to see the curves beneath. “I have no complaints about your figure.”

She stopped and turned sharply. “Oh, really?”

He shouldn’t have said that. There was no point in fostering the attraction between Paige and himself. It wasn’t good for either of them. She did something to him. Tested him in ways he’d never been tested before.

Detachment was normally simple for him. This time, not
so much. But he couldn’t pull the compliment back now. He wasn’t the sort of man to lie to a woman, or charm her to get her into bed, but he still knew enough to know that this was a subject to tread carefully with. Could sense that the wrong words could break her, or lead her to believe he could give things he simply could not.

“Every inch of you is beautiful,” he said. It was the truth, not flattery. Though why he was compelled to speak it in that way, he wasn’t certain.

She flushed scarlet. “You haven’t seen every inch of me.”

“Yet,” he said, the word escaping without his permission and hanging between them, heavy and, he realized in that moment, stating the inevitable.

“No,” she said, turning away from him and continuing down the stairs and into the kitchen.

“No?”

“You and I both know it would be a very bad idea.”

“Why is that, Paige?” he asked. “What harm could come from a bit of fun?” There was so much wrong with that sentence. He knew exactly what harm resulted from sex and passion. Which was precisely why his sexual encounters were void of passion. Passion wasn’t required for release. It was perfunctory. The right contact in the right place and his partners found their pleasure, then he was free to take his. Find a moment of blinding oblivion. But it had very little to do with the woman he was with, and even less to do with feeling.

And
fun
was a word he wasn’t sure he put any stock in. He wasn’t sure if he ever had any.

“Quite a few bits of harm, I think,” she said, crossing to the stainless-steel refrigerator and opening the freezer, rummaging through the contents. “What ho! Chocolate ice cream!”