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While he doused himself, his mind flickered through what little had been said.
Why hadn’t she mentioned it the night before, when he thought they were coming clean with each other. It was then he realized she’d said very little—next to nothing, in fact. She hadn’t even verbally accepted his declarations of love. Was this why? He could understand that, now, but he was annoyed because she hadn’t explained it to him when she had the chance. How did she expect him to react, seeing as he hadn’t a clue?
Within minutes he was clean and dressed and darting down the staircase, determined to get to the bottom of it. If they were going to fight about it—and that seemed to be her plan, damn her—he wanted to be appropriately armed for the battle ahead.
Chapter Eight
Sean made it as far as the kitchen doorway.
The sight that met him transfixed him—a small upturned face looking in his direction expectantly. The little girl wore a purple dress, with black and purple striped socks and black patent shoes. There was no doubt who she was, and that Rowan had chosen the outfit for her. Nan stood behind the child in faded jeans and a baggy pink sweatshirt emblazoned with a smiling kitten.
Frozen to the spot, Sean watched as Nan brushed the little girl’s hair.
“Good Morning, Sean.” Nan continued with her task while she looked at him standing there in the doorway. There was a knowing smile on her face. “Did you sleep well?”
Sean nodded vaguely at Nan, unable to drag his eyes off the baby-doll girl she was tending. His stomach flipped. Big green eyes held his, blatant curiosity filling them. The feeling was mutual.
An undeniable fact was staring him in the face, and it hit him hard, tolling through his thoughts with deliberation, the manifold implications squeezing the breath from his lungs. He swallowed, hard. “She’s mine, isn’t she?”
Forcing his gaze up, he sought the confirmation.
Nan continued to smile, taking her time.
Had it been the wrong thing to say? Muddled thoughts swamped him. Perhaps he shouldn’t have said it outright, not in front of the little girl, but the need for confirmation hit him hard. The emotional punch to his guts demanded a fast intake of breath, and a qualification of the facts.
Nan didn’t reply immediately, her expression thoughtful.
Had he been wrong to assume he might be the father, to even think of it? No, because if he was, he had a lot of making up to do, and there wasn’t a minute to waste. It would also explain why Rowan had been so upset by his initial response, because it hadn’t even occurred to him he might have left her pregnant. Until he saw the toddler. He wasn’t good at estimating kids’ ages, having never had cause, but this one looked to around two.
“I’m saying nothing,” Nan eventually replied, “except I always knew you were a bright lad.” She was smiling a lot, as if delighted by his sudden question.
So she was his. If only he’d thought of the possibility earlier, asked Rowan if she was his when they woke to her chattering. Maybe that would have been the right thing to say to Rowan. He pictured her face. Then again, maybe not.
He stepped into the room, staring at the little girl. She stared back. “Hello,” he offered.
The child giggled and pointed.
“She’s shy around people who are new to her.” Nan pulled the girl’s brown hair high and tied it with a ribbon, then set her free. “Go finish your breakfast.”
Nan continued their conversation, watching over as the little girl clambered onto a kitchen chair and reached for her cereal bowl. “Rowan didn’t tell you did she?”
Sean shook his head.
“How did you know?”
He shrugged. “I just knew. Maybe…maybe the way Rowan reacted when I asked clued me in a bit, subconsciously. I guess something gave it away.” Why hadn’t he known? Why hadn’t he thought of it? The question hammered inside of his head. Too busy getting jealous about the possibility of other guys. Guilt weighed heavily when he thought about all this time gone by.
It wa
s obvious now. A gnawing ache had taken residence in his chest, like a weight that wasn’t shifting fast.
He had to remind himself to smile at the poor kid, aware he might be scaring her. He was a complete stranger to her. She was an absolute poppet. Of course she was, she was Rowan’s. Approaching, he dropped to his knees before the little girl and picked up a cuddly toy she seemed to be reaching for.
“Is this what you want?” He waved the floppy bunny.
Two hands reached out and grasped for it.
“What’s your name?”
