“That’s okay. Whitney and I took care of him.”
Before Mrs. Tucker could answer, Whitney entered the room. Their eyes met across the nursery and all he could think of was her singing to Gino the night before. The sweet motherly affection he’d heard in her voice. The easy way she’d used the song to lull Gino to sleep. And he suddenly understood why Missy had chosen her for her baby’s guardian. Whitney was born to be a mom. She really would be Gino’s mom. Not a substitute, not a guardian, but a real mom.
Just as he intended to be a real dad.
He could picture them two or three or even six years from now, as the perfect parents. He could see them standing with their arms around each other’s waists, waving to Gino who rode his bike along the big circular driveway in front of the house.
He shook his head to dislodge that image. It was one thing to parent a child together. But they didn’t need to have their arms around each other’s waists. They had to be objective. They couldn’t have a relationship. He had a conglomerate to run. A life that kept him so busy he’d barely have time to squeeze this baby in. But he would. Gino would become his family. And after that there would be no time left for anyone else. Which made him the absolute worst choice of men for Whitney to get involved with. Now that he knew her past, he also knew she needed someone to love her, to understand her, and he simply had too much on his plate already. He would ignore signs that she needed to talk, or signs that she was feeling sad, or signs that she simply needed to be held. And he would hurt her.
She broke eye contact and strolled a little closer to the baby. “Good morning.”
“Good morning,” Mrs. Tucker chirped. “Here’s the bottle,” she said, offering both the baby and the bottle to Whitney.
Darius raced over, understanding now why she hesitated. Being Gino’s guardian was probably a living hell for her, yet she’d accepted the job and planned to do it. “I’ll take him.”
Mrs. Tucker put Gino in his arms and glanced at her watch. “If you don’t mind, I need to go now. Two of the maids are new and we don’t really have a schedule yet.” She smiled like the happy employee that she was, causing Darius to notice just how weary, how sad Whitney was in contrast. “If you need me, I can be free again after breakfast.”
With the baby and the bottle in Darius’s hands, Mrs. Tucker turned away and walked out of the nursery.
He sat on the rocker and gave Gino the nipple as he had the other times he had fed him. Gino latched on greedily and sucked down the milk. Whitney walked around the nursery, glancing at toys and knickknacks scattered on the shelves. She didn’t say anything and, try as he might, Darius couldn’t think of anything to say either.
When Gino was finished with his breakfast, Darius burped him like a pro then rose from the rocker. “So what do we do now? Put him back to bed? ”
Whitney smiled slightly. “I’m guessing he just woke up before we walked in. So he should spend some time downstairs.”
Panic fluttered through him. “Downstairs? With his gums just waiting to put him in severe pain again?”
“Of course. He still needs his cereal and I’m guessing he’ll want to play a bit. In fact it’s good to entertain him and make him happy for as long as we can.”
Panic was replaced by fear. Yes, he’d rocked this kid, fed this kid, even changed a diaper—much to his horror—but he wasn’t capable enough to be alone with a potentially sick baby all morning.
“Ready?”
He peeked over at Whitney. “You’re coming with us?”
“Sure.”
That’s when he saw it. The sadness that hummed through everything she did was sometimes eclipsed by very normal behavior, but it was still there.
And everything she did for Gino undoubtedly reminded her of the baby she’d lost.
CHAPTER SIX
DARIUS WAITED UNTIL they were seated at the table in the sunroom for lunch, while Gino was napping, before he broached the subject they’d come to Montauk to discuss—how they’d share custody of Gino. The wall of windows brought in the broad expanse of the ocean, sloshing sloppily, with no rhyme or reason or organization, against the shore. The scent of warm clam chowder wafted around them comfortingly, but Darius felt more like the ocean. Disjointed. Uneven. Unable to get his bearings.
Not only did he feel uncomfortable about pushing her to tell him about her family, but he also felt awful for her loss. Technically, he and Whitney would be connected for the next eighteen or so years of their lives, maybe longer. Gino would love her as a mother, and, he hoped, love him as a father. But their lives were so different he wasn’t really sure it was possible for them to find common ground.
She’d been married, been a mom and now lived in a loft in Soho and worked at a law firm. He’d spent his entire adult life running from marriage and being groomed to manage a huge conglomerate. He also had an apartment in the city, but Gino had a nursery at this estate, so Darius genuinely believed it was better for him to get rid of his apartment and live here. If Whitney really wanted to make the commitment to Gino that Darius believed she should make, then she should want to give up her loft and live here too.
The three of them living together was the only way to ensure that Gino saw both of his guardians and also lived something of a normal life. Still, he couldn’t hit her with that yet—especially not after the way he’d pushed her the night before. The way he had this figured, the best thing to do would be try to get her to agree to stay another week, or maybe two weeks, and then continue to tack on a week or two at a time until she realized, as he had, that Montauk was Gino’s home.
Because the following day was Monday, the end of the weekend, there was no time left for delay. He had to persuade her to stay an entire week or maybe two and he had to do it now.
He casually picked up his napkin. “I’m glad we decided to spend the weekend here, getting to know the baby.”
She met his gaze, her pretty blue eyes cautious.
“It was good for him to be in a settled environment—especially since this is his home, or had been when his parents came to New York.”
She didn’t even hesitate. “Absolutely.”
“So you wouldn’t mind saying a little longer?”
“How much longer?”
With her being so agreeable, it seemed a shame to ask for a week or two, when a month would be better for Gino. “How about a month?”
“A month!”
“Or six weeks.” Going with his usual tactic of surprising his opponent by asking for more rather than backpedaling, he forged on. “This is Gino’s home. He needs to be somewhere he feels safe. Since he spends half his day sleeping, I also think it’s important he be in his own crib. We’re adults. I think we can make an adjustment or two for him.”
“Okay.”
She surprised him so much he forgot they were negotiating. “Okay? ”
“Yes. We have to hire a nanny, and I need time to turn my spare bedroom into a nursery. So, yes. It makes sense to keep Gino here where he’s happy until I can get some of that done.”
Dumbstruck, he said nothing.
She ate a spoonful of soup. “Layla liked being in her own crib. Especially when she was sick.”
Layla. Her casual use of the name shook him. But the very fact that she’d said it so nonchalantly told him he had to be every bit as casual. Not make a big deal out of it. Not ask questions that didn’t fit into their conversation about Gino. Even though he was burning up with them.
How could a man not remember he had his child with him?
How