He’d done his best to be there for Melissa after her parents’ deaths. And he’d counted on her being there for him, too.
“Did it occur to you that you might have paternal instincts after all?” she asked.
“I’m sorry?”
“You have a big heart,” she said gently. “Big enough to love more than one person. You’d make a wonderful father.”
He stiffened. Just when he’d believed she understood him, she was viewing his confidence through the lens of her own wishes, trying to convert him into her idea of what a man ought to be. “I’m not her father, I’m her guardian.”
“I’ve seen how you act with her,” Melissa said. “You’ve changed these past three years.”
Not that much.
This past year had been one blow after another. Edmond had rarely had a chance to replenish his inner strength with quiet hours to read, visit museums and travel. The worst part had been enduring these crises alone. That was, in part, why he’d opened up to Melissa today. To his disappointment, her attitude reminded him that she didn’t accept him for himself, only as a wish-fulfillment fantasy.
It was important to clear up that misunderstanding. “Don’t interpret my actions to suit your assumptions. My views on fatherhood haven’t changed.”
“Are you sure you have an accurate perception of yourself?”
How insulting. “While I respect your decision to have children in whatever manner you choose, you shouldn’t cast me in the role of father-knows-best simply because it’s convenient.”
Her mouth tightened. “That’s not what I was doing.”
Instinctively, he echoed her earlier words. “Are you sure you have an accurate perception of yourself?”
“Don’t be arrogant!” As she leaned forward to pick up her plate, a startled expression crossed her face and her hand flew to her midsection.
“Is anything wrong?” Although she didn’t appear distressed, Edmond hadn’t forgotten the bout of nausea in her office.
Melissa shook her head, blond tendrils quivering. “They’re scooting around in there.”
“You can feel the babies?” She’d mentioned being due in December, he recalled, and that was many months off. “How big are they?”
“Four or five inches apiece.” A smile bloomed, and wonder touched Melissa’s eyes. “They’re small, but I can tell when they’re active.”
While the gestation and birth process was miraculous, Edmond couldn’t pretend to share her enthusiasm. “Doesn’t it feel strange, having other people living inside you?”
She chuckled. “What a funny way to put it. This is normal.”
“Having triplets?”
“Not that part.”
Across the room, someone clapped for the guests’ attention. At the cake table, Zora Raditch, one of Melissa’s housemates, waved a metal spatula. “We’re doing the cut-the-cake thing now, and if either bride or groom shoves a slice in the other person’s face, I will personally smash the entire remaining cake over that person’s head. Fair warning!”
A ripple of laughter greeted this announcement. Edmond, however, was concerned about the baby bump visible beneath the woman’s dress. Another unmarried pregnancy in the house wouldn’t concern him, but he’d represented Zora in her divorce from a self-centered businessman named Andrew. Despite an agreement to negotiate fairly, the man had played games with the settlement and with signing the papers.
That had all been resolved, finally. But what about this pregnancy? “Dare I ask if Andrew’s the father?” In Edmond’s opinion, a child deserved better than to be born into such a mixed-up situation.
“Yes, he is, sad to say.” Melissa arose gracefully considering her awkward distribution of weight. “They had break-up sex. Then he went and married his new girlfriend.”
Edmond collected their plates. “He has obligations, regardless. Their child is legally entitled to parental support.”
“It’s children, plural. Twins.” Melissa shrugged. “I’m not sure why, but I don’t believe Zora’s even broken the news to Andrew. She can’t keep her pregnancy secret from him long, since her former mother-in-law works at the hospital.”
“Please let her know I’d be happy to help.” Regardless of Andrew’s attitudes toward fatherhood, he had obligations to these children. And he owed his former wife his support during her pregnancy, as well. “She shouldn’t have to go through this alone.”
“She isn’t alone,” Melissa reminded him. “She has me and Karen.”
“Five babies. I’d call that a full house.”
“Plus Anya’s having a baby. But that little girl’s father gives a damn.” With that, Melissa went to join the gathering around the cake table.
I’m not the father of your babies. Her unjustified anger annoyed Edmond. Well, he was responsible for his niece, and no one could accuse him of not giving a damn about her.
On Monday, he’d find out exactly how big a responsibility he’d undertaken. Hopefully, this would prove to be an unpleasant but limited blip in his sister’s troubled life, and Dawn could resume living with her. Pushing aside his worries, Edmond carried the dirty dishes to the kitchen.
The savory scent hit Melissa’s senses the moment she opened the oven door. Orange and lemon zest, balsamic vinegar, olive oil and a touch of sweetness—it transported her instantly to a cozy hotel in Sorrento she and Edmond had used as a base for exploring southern Italy during one of their favorite trips.
She’d discovered this unusual muffin recipe on a website. After her roommates tasted it, the muffins had become an instant hit.
With the aroma, perhaps because she’d encountered her ex-husband yesterday, memories flooded in. As she set the hot tin on the stovetop and began transferring the muffins to a wire cooling rack, Melissa recalled the view from their hilltop hotel over the deep blue Gulf of Naples.
She and Edmond had spent days exploring the partially restored ruins of Pompeii and Herculaneum, which had been buried in the eruption of Mount Vesuvius in 79 A.D. Images of her husband remained etched in her memory: sweat darkening his shirt as he led the way along a narrow, ancient street; his grin shining from his sun-darkened face as they shared a glass of red wine over lunch; his boyish enthusiasm for the voluptuous frescoes decorating two-thousand-year-old palatial homes. They’d hated to leave Sorrento, even though they were continuing on to Rome, Florence and Venice.
If only she could live two lives, Melissa reflected wistfully as she fetched a box of powdered sugar from the cupboard. In the other life, she and Edmond would continue to travel together and, when at home, spend cozy Sunday mornings nestled on the couch, sharing the newspaper. There’d be no risk of provoking his rejection, because she wouldn’t long for babies.
But she would never give up this reality. Inside her, as if to reassert their presence, the little ones squirmed. Melissa smiled, imagining her daughters’ rambunctious play. She’d read that multiples interacted in the womb. Was one of them already bossy? Was another learning to assert herself in response?
“Ooh, Italian muffins!” Zora bounced into the kitchen, although how anyone five months pregnant with twins could