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“No. I didn’t. I’ve tried to explain, to say I’m sorry—”
“I’m not interested in apologies or explanations.”
She gave a sad little laugh. “No. You’re only interested in you. That’s one of the reasons I didn’t tell you I was pregnant. I was afraid you’d react exactly this way, as if our baby’s existence concerned only you.”
“You’re good at making excuses.”
“Not as good as you are at feeling nothing for anyone but yourself.” Her voice trembled. “I think you do care for Samantha, though. And that surprises me.”
“A compliment, cara. I can hardly bear it.”
“Dante. Don’t take her from me. I know you want to hurt me, but you’ll hurt her, too.”
“Hurt her?” His lips drew back from his teeth. “You have nothing. I have everything. I’ll give my daughter a life you can only imagine.”
“She’s my daughter, too. And what she needs is love. It’s what everyone needs. How can you not understand that?”
“Love,” he said, his mouth twisting, “is a word without meaning. Honesty. Responsibility. Those are words that matter. How can you not understand that?”
Then he folded his arms, fixed his eyes on the sleeping baby and ignored Tally completely.
DAWN HAD JUST TOUCHED the sky with a delicate pink blush when Samantha stirred.
“Mama?”
Tally, who’d fallen into a fitful sleep, sprang to her feet, but she was too late. Dante had already leaned into the crib and lifted the baby into his arms.
“Bella figlia,” he said huskily, “buon giorno.”
Sam grinned. “Da-Tay,” she babbled, and wrapped her arms around his neck.
Tally felt her throat tighten. All the time she’d been pregnant, the months and years after, she’d never pictured this. Dante and Samantha as father and daughter. She’d never dreamed of this softness, this sweetness in her lover.
The door opened. The physician who’d treated Sam stepped into the room.
“Well, look at this! It doesn’t take a trained eye to see that our patient’s made a full recovery.”
“Thank you, Doctor. For everything.”
“My pleasure, Mr. Russo. Just let me give your little girl the once-over and you can take her home.”
“To New York?”
“I’d wait a couple of days, just to be on the safe side.” He grinned. “Quite a hardship, having to spend Christmas in the Caribbean, huh, folks?”
Tally made a choked sound. Dante forced a smile.
“We’ll manage,” he said.
Tally hoped he was right.
COEXISTING in a three-level penthouse, as they’d initially done, was simple.
Coexisting in a one-level house built to take full advantage of the sun was not.
Rooms opened into rooms; doors were almost nonexistent. Tally moved her things into the third bedroom, but it was impossible to walk to the kitchen or Sam’s room without running into Dante.
“Excuse me,” she said, at the beginning.
