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11
KAYLA
Iwas so mad that I could spit.
In fact, as I stood there staring at the two of them sitting there and laughing it up while my son had an ice cube in his mouth, the only reigning thought was, “I’m going to kill him.”
I think Vinny looked up as I approached, but I didn’t care. My eyes were locked on the target—Monty—who was currently holding an ice block out for Hunter to bite on.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing to my son?” I asked when I had gotten close enough. That got his attention, and he immediately turned around.
His eyes met mine first, then dropped to my chest, which was at his eye level. He seemed distracted for a few seconds, and that only irritated me more because I knew what he was thinking about.
I snapped a finger in front of his face, bringing his attention back up to my face.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“What’s wrong?” I felt the heat climb within me. “Did you just honestly ask me that?”
He glanced at Vinny as if in question and then back at me. “Yeah, I believe I did.” I saw his lips kick up in amusement, and it made me even madder. Why did this man seem to enjoy my bad moods so much?
And why did he look so attractive when he smiled?
Shit. Focus Kayla.
“What’s wrong is that you took my son somewhere without my permission,” I growled. “Didn’t we agree that you would stay within my line of sight at all times?”
“Our son,” he corrected. “And yeah, I took him to the ice cream shop next door to get some ice for his gums. What’s the big deal?”
“The big deal? You took him without telling me!” I felt like the top of my head was about to blow off, so I reached over, grabbing my son from him and holding him against my chest protectively. “Don’t ever do that again.”
“Easy,” he said when I did that. “Hold him too tight, and he’s going to start hollering again.”
My anger only rose. How dare he presume to tell me that, implying I didn’t know how to take care of my child? And the fact that he wasn’t taking it seriously—wasn’t taking me seriously. Did he know what I had gone through in the last thirty minutes after discovering that my son was gone? I had physically felt my heart stop beating for a second when I found them gone. I stood frozen for several minutes while every single worst-case scenario ran through my head. I called myself all types of a fool for trusting him, for not thinking he would betray me. He probably left his car there to keep me off his trail long enough while he kidnapped my son, and it worked like a charm because I was too blind, too trusting. And now, my son was going to pay the price of my negligence.
I immediately ran back inside to ask the hostess if she had seen anyone fitting Monty’s description pass by with a baby. She said no. I had then gone to the other store next door and the one after that, asking the same questions. Neither of them had seen him, and my panic climbed higher with each “no” I received. Monty was in the Marines, trained to evade detection. If he wanted to, he could be on the road already, and no one would have spotted him.
And that would be it. I would never see my baby again.
I then ran into the ice cream shop, trying to quell the hysteria creeping up, and that was when I saw them. Monty was sitting next to Vinny, engaged in a conversation with my son balanced on his lap.
But as I watched them for a few seconds, the relief that my son was safe gave way to a cold, forbidding anger.
One that only soared higher the more I thought about it.
“I don’t know what you think being a parent is,” I said, my voice emanating quiet fury as I spoke. “But let me tell you, it’s not as easy as you seem to think it is. A baby is not a prop that you can just take whenever you want to a stupid ice cream shop. Babies have routines, and they have needs completely separate from your selfish ones.”
“What’s wrong with ice cream?” Monty asked.
“You’re not listening to me!” I wanted to stamp my foot in frustration, but I resisted the urge. “You just took him! I didn’t know where you were, who you were with, or whether he was safe.”
Monty was starting to look irritated. “Of course he’s safe. I’m his father.”
“Barely!” The word exploded out of me before I could stop it, and more angry words followed. “A one-night stand does not make you a father, and neither does a broken condom. You haven’t been in his life long enough to even call yourself his father based on a technicality.”
It was definitely the wrong thing to say.
Monty’s face completely morphed, all traces of mirth disappearing. The annoyance left, too, along with any other expression he may have had. It was like his entire body put up a shield in defense against the words I threw at him, and he refused to reveal anything more in his expression. His eyes, on the other hand, were cold.
