“You’re overthinking.”
“That’s because this is very important to me.” He opened the door and led her into a neat-as-a-pin den that could double as an office given that there was an overstuffed sofa and chair in front of a big-screen TV, as well as a heavy oak desk and tall-backed chair on the far side of the room.
He went to the desk and plopped on the chair. But before Claire sat, she sniffed and frowned. “You haven’t by any chance changed her diaper in the past hour.”
“She wasn’t wet.”
Her nose wrinkled. “I think she is now. Where’s the diaper bag?”
He pointed to the overstuffed sofa where the baby’s bag leaned drunkenly against the arm, beside his jacket, which had been tossed haphazardly on the sofa back. “There.”
“Okay…so…” She peeked at him. “There wouldn’t happen to be a nursery in this house?”
He snorted. “Not hardly.”
“Okay.” She looked around again, knowing she could make do. “How about a blanket?”
He rose from his chair. “Blanket I can help you with.” He frowned. “I think. I know there’s a linen closet upstairs somewhere.”
“You get a blanket and I’ll rummage through the diaper bag for a diaper. Hopefully by the time I’m ready to change her you’ll be back with a blanket.”
He nodded once and left the room.
When she was sure he was gone, Claire waltzed Bella around the desk once. Rocking the floor with the baby, she’d discovered dancing was the only way to get her to stop crying, but it was also fun. Sort of their point of connection.
“So how’s it going with the new daddy so far?”
She screeched and Claire laughed. “You’re right. He’s green. But think of him as a diamond in the rough.”
She danced the baby over to the sofa and poked through the diaper bag until she found a diaper.
She tossed it to the sofa, then danced Bella around again. As the room spun by, she realized how cold and sterile it was and a worry flitted through her. How could a man who lived in such a formal house ever care for a baby? “There’s not even an afghan to lay you on.”
“Here we are,” Matt said, walking into the room. In his hands was a thick blue blanket.
Not wanting to be caught dancing with the baby, she turned her waltz into a step that looked something like she’d been pacing and said, “Lay it on the sofa.”
He did as instructed and Claire made short order of Bella’s diaper. But even though Matt had meandered away from the spectacle, she caught him peering over a time or two.
A light of hope lit. He might be green and his house might be cold but he was curious. “Want to learn how to do this?”
He pulled back. “No.”
“You sure? It’s not difficult.”
“My hour alone with her was enough to remind me that I don’t have the skills to care for her.”
“What are you going to do when your nanny takes a day off?”
“Get help from the maid?”
Though that made her laugh, it didn’t bode well for sweet Bella. Still, that wasn’t her business. The point of her being here this evening was to help him adjust to having a baby, but since he’d mentioned changing his mind about a nanny—thank God—she could also assist him with calling an agency that could provide someone temporary for the night. And Bella would be well cared for.
So she said nothing as she rooted through the few things in the diaper bag until she found a set of clean clothes. One of the four or five sets she’d been alternating with pajamas and washing over the four days she’d kept the baby.
“At some point, you’re going to have to go to your ex-wife’s house and get Bella some more clothes. I have several sets of pj’s and outfits for daytime in the bag, but it’s really only enough for two days. I’ve had to do laundry twice. Plus, we don’t have any of her toys. Things that might make her happy.” She glanced around. “You’ll also need her high chair and crib and walker and swing.”
“I don’t even know what half those things are.”
She rose from the sofa. “That’s okay. That’s why I’m here. To help you get set up. What do you say we call your driver and go over to Bella’s mom’s house and get her high chair and crib, more of her clothes and all of her toys?”
Matt stepped back as a sickening feeling gripped him. Go to Ginny’s, when she wasn’t there? Knowing she’d never be there again? Knowing he’d pushed her away? Reminding himself of everything he’d lost because he was cold, heartless and the one person who shouldn’t be raising her precious baby?
No. Absolutely not.
“I have a better idea. Why don’t we just order a new crib and high chair and whatever else she needs?”
Claire laughed. “Why buy new when she already has them?”
Only one of his eyebrows rose.
“Oh, I get it. You’re one of those money-is-no-object people.”
“And this is bad because…?”
“It’s not bad. It’s just that it might comfort her to have some of her own things around her.”
“If she’s been without them for four days, she’s probably forgotten them.” Guilt warred with pain as he turned to the desk. He knew Claire was right. Having her own things would comfort Bella. But he just couldn’t face going to that house. If he had to be strong for Bella, some concession had to be made for him.
“It’s been a very long day. This time yesterday, I was in London. Today I’m here…with a baby. Let me get on the phone and make a few calls and buy a high chair and a crib. Tomorrow if she still needs her things, I’ll make a run for them.”
She frowned, as if thinking, and Matt froze. He’d given his best argument. If she disagreed, if she pushed, he had no idea how he’d talk her out of going to Ginny’s. Because he couldn’t go. He absolutely couldn’t go.
Before she could say anything, Bella grabbed Claire’s pearls, wrapped them around her chubby fist and stuck her fist into her mouth.
Claire gasped. “Have you given her a bottle lately?”
“I asked, but it didn’t stop her crying so I assumed she didn’t want it.”
She groaned. “You don’t ask. You show her a bottle.” She walked over to the diaper bag, pulled out an empty bottle and kissed Bella’s shiny black hair. “Let’s go get you something to eat.”
Matt raced after her. “I don’t have anything for her to eat.”
“We’re just talking milk here.” She stopped, pivoted to face him. “Although we probably should feed her something before we give her a bottle.”
“I told you. I don’t have—”
She stopped him with a look. “Do you like oatmeal?”
He grimaced. “No.”
“Any cooked cereal at all?”
“No.”
She frowned and Matt’s heart sank. He was going to be a terrible father.
“Pudding?”
He brightened. “Yes! I love the little pudding cups. It’s a secret vice.”
“A secret vice