“I see.” She looked thoughtful. “How does the saying go? ‘Promises are made to be broken’?”
“Not mine,” he said firmly. He’d learned through bitter experience that a man’s word was the most valuable thing he owned. He couldn’t ignore that truth simply because it was convenient.
On the other hand, were verbal agreements valid when they were elicited without full disclosure? At the time, he would have sworn anything to keep Dee calm. Would he have been as quick to tell her what she’d wanted to hear if he’d known of Breanna’s existence, if he’d really known what he was pledging to do?
He’d obviously said the right words because a wide, approving smile stretched across Maggie’s face. “You’re a good man, Donatelli,” she said gruffly, “even if you don’t think you’re the best man for the job.”
“How can I be?” he asked. “I’m a single guy.”
“Lots of single parents, including men, raise kids.”
“I don’t have any idea how to take care of a baby, much less a little girl.”
“You’ll learn.”
He began to pace. “You don’t understand. I’m the last person a kid needs as a father figure. My own—” He cut himself off.
“Yes…?” she coaxed. “Your own…what?”
He didn’t want to explain and never felt the need to share the sordid tale. Dee was the only person who’d ever heard his story, but that had only been because she’d been a kindred spirit—a young woman who’d shared his experience. For his entire life, he’d placed that history into a small box he’d labeled “Keep Out” and stored it in the back of his memory while he’d gone to school and made a successful, rewarding career for himself. He’d built his life the way he wanted it and he was happy being a carefree, no-strings-attached bachelor.
At the same time, he knew Maggie would never understand his position if he didn’t explain. As soon as he did, she’d agree he wasn’t the best man for the job.
“My home life was dysfunctional, to say the least,” he said, omitting specifics. “My mother died when I was a baby and when I was five, my father disappeared, leaving me in foster care. By the time I was ten, I’d decided that parenting wasn’t in my future. I’m thirty years old and don’t have the first clue about dealing with a kid, much less a baby.”
To his surprise, Maggie didn’t gasp in horror, although he saw the sympathy in her eyes. “I’m sorry you didn’t grow up under ideal conditions,” she said softly, “but I know who you are today, Joe. I’ve seen you interact with children when we’ve worked accidents. You aren’t as incompetent as you think.”
“Handling a youngster during an emergency situation is different than in a day-to-day situation,” he added impatiently. “I don’t know the first thing about finding a sitter or a doctor. Then there’s formula and baby food, clothing sizes, and God only knows what else! What I know about a child’s daily needs would fit in a teaspoon.”
She shrugged. “Then you’ll learn. Do you think first time parents learn those things by osmosis, that it’s magically downloaded into their brains during delivery?”
OK, so maybe he could cope with the physical stuff like diapers and formula and clothing sizes, but the emotional aspect scared him spitless. How could he possibly give the love and support Breanna needed when he had nothing in his own experience to use as a pattern?
“I can’t screw up her life,” he said flatly.
“Giving up already?”
Her expression was inscrutable, but Joe sensed her disapproval. And if she disapproved of him breaking his promise, he could imagine the response he’d get from his superiors—quintessential family men—as well as the guys who worked alongside him in the trenches. None of them would understand; they’d only see the situation as one where he didn’t live up to the duties that a dead woman had given him, regardless of who had fathered her child. That was a big deal to men who safeguarded people and property at all costs.
He rubbed his eyes. “Promise or not, she’d be better off with a stable couple who wants children.”
“Dee apparently wanted you to do the honors,” she reminded him.
Dammit, Dee! Why did you drag me into this? And if Breanna is mine, why didn’t you tell me? Prepare me?
But she hadn’t and now he had to deal with this mess as best as he could. If the situation simply didn’t work out, then his conscience would be appeased, but he owed it to Dee to try his best in the meantime.
Which meant he needed a crash course on parenting from someone with experience…
Half resigned and half scared out of his wits at his fate, he met her gaze. “Regardless of what Dee was thinking, I can’t take on Breanna alone.”
“Once the guys at the station hear what happened, their wives will offer more help than you can ever imagine.”
He shook his head as his answer stood before him. “Not good enough. Oh, I’m sure they’ll be happy to pitch in once in a while or when I’m on duty, but what about the rest of the time?”
“You’ll function like every other single father. You’ll look after her, take her wherever you go, play with her, and pray for nap time.”
“And what if I have a problem, like today? I need someone I can depend on, day or night.” He turned a steady gaze on her. “Someone like my partner.”
Her jaw dropped. “Me? Why me?”
“Because you’re perfect. You’re single, so I wouldn’t feel guilty calling you at all hours, and you’re a woman so you’re a natural at the nurturing stuff.” As she sputtered, he continued, “You’re also the one with the huge family, scads of nieces and nephews. You have an instinct with kids. Why, look at the miracle you performed in the last thirty minutes.”
“Yes, but—”
“I need someone to teach me what to do. With your family experience, you’re the best candidate. The only candidate.”
No, Maggie screamed inside. As sorry as she was about his tough childhood, he should rely on someone who wanted the job. Joe’s suggestion was out of the question. Simply. Out. Of. The. Question.
“No,” she said, shaking her head for emphasis. “I’m not your man, or your woman as the case may be.”
He seemed surprised by her answer. “Why not? You love children.”
“I have my reasons.”
“Oh?”
His raised eyebrow made it plain that he was waiting for an explanation. He would wait for a long time, she thought wryly. For one thing it was too painful to discuss and for another she didn’t care to admit she’d been duped by a man who’d played her as expertly as a cellist played his instrument.
“I won’t discuss them,” she said stiffly. “Rest assured, my reasons are valid.”
“And mine aren’t?”
“OK,” she conceded, “maybe we both have good excuses but—”
“I’d heard via the grapevine that you’d almost married a guy with two kids.”
“‘Almost’ is the operative word,” she quipped to hide the ache that hadn’t completely disappeared. “Your situation is different.”
“Because we aren’t sleeping together?” he asked. “If that’s what it takes…”
A tingle shot through her—a completely unwarranted tingle that started low in her belly and moved upward as a mental picture instantly developed in living