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With a sigh, he glanced back to the tyke. Now was as good a time as any to see if he could find more than a hint of resemblance.
Carefully, he lifted the baby and brought him closer. Ten fingers. Ten toes. Fat cheeks, a roly-poly belly, and a tiny little mouth. Could this be his son? If so, shouldn’t he recognize his own progeny on some level? He frowned.
“She named you Kyle, did she?”
At the sound of his voice, the boy calmed, those big eyes following Liam as his lower lip pouted and quivered between occasional hiccups. Liam repressed a smile. Then he felt something wet on his thigh and realized the babe’s nappy was drenched.
Seeing a half-opened bag of diapers and a box of wipes beside it, he scooped up one of each. Holding the baby away from his shirt, he laid the child on the bed. Kyle immediately began crying again, but Liam softly shushed him as he examined the diaper, wondering exactly how it fit together. A tab at each hip appeared to keep it secure.
When Liam removed the wet diaper, a miracle occurred. Kyle—most definitely a boy—quit crying. Liam’s ears stopped ringing. A minute or two later, he’d wiped the baby down and swaddled him in a new nappy. Not bad for a first attempt.
Liam brought Kyle against his chest. He and the boy examined one another.
This could be my son.
And maybe not. After all, while they’d been married, Gwyneth had been fucking her personal trainer.
Those little lips trembled again, and Liam gave him a teasing scowl. “Shh. There’s no bawling in a BDSM club. You’ll scare the members away.”
A little frown fell between those bright brown eyes—a startling resemblance to his own—then a chubby fist made its way to the mouth, and Kyle began sucking.
“Are you hungry, then? You look like you could use a decent steak.”
“He’ll have to make do with formula and strained vegetables,” said a familiar voice.
Liam turned to find Gwyneth standing in the door to the bathroom, a little smile hovering on her face.
His ex-wife looked markedly different since he’d seen her last. Her long platinum hair still hung sleek and straight, but her face was mostly naked. She wore a shapeless black sweater and a pair of faded blue jeans, sans shoes. Liam frowned. He couldn’t recall Gwyneth ever looking so casual. Hell, he didn’t remember her even owning a pair of jeans when they’d been married. In fact, without Prada, Vuitton, and camera-ready makeup, he almost didn’t recognize her. The cool, elegant wife he remembered had been replaced by a seemingly normal, if tired, new mother simply trying to cope.
He almost felt sorry for her…but not quite.
Before today, he’d seen her exactly once since their divorce. For him, that had been one time too many. As far as he was concerned, he had moved on and found true love. Gwyneth being here could only fuck that up.
With a tentative smile, she approached, presenting her cheek for him to kiss.
Liam handed her the baby and backed away. “Gwyneth.”
She took the boy, the welcome in her face faltering. “It’s good to see you. Isn’t it, Kyle?”
“Why are you here?”
The child opened his little mouth, and his face scrunched up in displeasure. His lungs expanded, and an ear-piercing wail tore from his throat.
Wincing, Gwyneth shot Liam a pained expression. The squalling babe grabbed at her pale hair as she anxiously patted his back. “The travel has been hard on him. He’s off his sleep schedule.”
As she pulled a tissue from her pocket and cleaned the boy’s cheeks and nose, Liam continued to scan the little face.
Once the lad had calmed, he pinned his ex with a curious gaze. “Whose child is that?”
She drew in a deep breath, collecting herself, before stepping toward him. “Please sit down, Liam. I—we—have come a long way because there’s something important I must tell you. I realize this is sudden, but I hope you’ll hear me out.”
Liam tensed as she sat on the edge of the bed and juggled the baby in her lap, waiting for him to take a seat in the nearby chair.
He didn’t. “You’re lucky I took your call at all, much less came to see you. Answer my question. Whose baby is that?”
She took a deep breath. “This is Kyle. He’s our son.”
Actually hearing his worst fear spoken aloud sent icy dread sliding down his spine. The gravity of the situation hit him full force. He darted a glance between Gwyneth and the boy. Was it possible? He wished like hell he could remember the night of the benefit.
Liam crossed his arms over his chest, trying to read her expression. He saw nothing except an anxious, slightly doe-eyed stare he didn’t quite believe.
But why would she be here if he hadn’t fathered her son? Gwyneth didn’t need money. Not only had he given her half of his fortune in the divorce, she was the youngest daughter of a very wealthy, doting father. She didn’t need a husband to raise a baby; she could just hire a nanny. When this child had been conceived, they’d already been divorced, so it wasn’t as if she needed to dupe her trusting spouse into believing another man’s seed was his own. And if she’d waited all this time to inform him that he’d become a father, she didn’t need a last name for the birth certificate.
