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“Baby power,” Olivia said in a wobbly voice.
“Does she know her name?” he asked curiously before, without thinking about it, injecting some falsetto into his voice and directing his next comments to Clara. “Hey, Clara. You’re so pretty. Do you know your name? Claaara. Pretty Clara. My gorgeous girl! My gorgeous, clever girl.”
He was immediately embarrassed by the babble of high-pitched nonsense that had gushed uncontrollably from his lips and clenched them shut before anything even more ridiculous could escape. Olivia made a choking sound, while Clara’s already-big eyes got impossibly wider. They flooded with tears, and she immediately started crying again. More high, piercing cries that just about broke his heart.
“God. I’m sorry,” he said, not sure if his apology was for Clara or Olivia. He attempted to rock her like he had before, but she was writhing in his arms. Undecided before, she now knew she didn’t want to be there, and she wasn’t prepared to be soothed into compliance.
“What do I do?” he asked Olivia again, hating the fact that he didn’t know. That he was so terrible at this.
“She’s tired,” Olivia said, reached for Clara. “Give her to me, she needs to get to sleep.”
His hold on the baby tightened possessively as every cell in his body protested the idea of letting her go. Olivia’s eyes went cold as she recognized the movement for what it was.
“Hand my baby over, Greyson,” she demanded frigidly, and Greyson reluctantly relinquished his hold on Clara. Olivia looked completely resentful of what had been an involuntary reaction on his part. Her eyes were shuttered and her entire body tense.
“Olivia,” he tried, wanting to explain that he hadn’t meant anything by it. But she wouldn’t look at him as she cuddled the still-crying baby close to her chest. Greyson’s own arms felt empty, and he longed to pluck Clara from Olivia’s hold to soothe her. But he knew if he did that it would only make her cry more—she didn’t know him. He was a stranger to his own daughter, and he hated it. Hated himself because he knew the situation was entirely his own fault.
“Time for you to go, Greyson,” Olivia said coldly, marching toward the front door and unlocking it. There was an odd metallic crack, and Olivia swore furiously beneath her breath. Greyson joined her, and they both stared at the broken key in her hand. He tried the door; it was unlocked. A quick look confirmed that there were no other latches or locks on the door. And no security gate.
“You can’t lock the door,” he stated unnecessarily.
“Thanks for the news flash, Captain Obvious,” she retorted with childish sarcasm.
“You can’t stay here if you can’t lock the door.”
“And what do you propose I do? Check into the nearest hotel? Share your hotel room, maybe?”
“I’m not staying at a hotel. It’s fully booked.”
She looked curious for a moment, and for a second he thought she would ask him where he was staying, but she tamped down her curiosity.
“Nothing stopping you from leaving, Greyson. You’re not locked in.”
“I’m not leaving if you can’t lock the door behind me.”
“This town is perfectly safe.”
“Do you really want to take that risk with Clara?” The question made her hesitate, and she swallowed as her eyes dipped to Clara’s crying face.
“If anybody wanted to break in here, a simple lock wouldn’t keep them out.”
“No, it wouldn’t, and that’s something that needs to be addressed at some point as well . . . but that simple lock was better than nothing. I can stay. I want to stay. It’s that or you find somewhere safer to sleep tonight.”
Libby was still looking at Clara and knew that even though the odds of anything happening were minimal, she had to place her baby’s safety first. She briefly considered contacting Tina, but after their tense exchange that evening, she was very reluctant to reach out to the other woman for help.
Greyson staying here was ridiculous. There had to be another solution.
“I’ll call Harris. He’ll let us stay with him.”
“That suits me fine. Since I’m sharing the house with Harris.”
He was? That was news to her.
“Fine. Harris can stay with us here.”
“Why disturb him, when I’m here already?” Greyson asked between clenched teeth. But Libby couldn’t get the image of him tightening his hold on Clara out of her head. She may have made an error in allowing him so close without a lawyer present. Clara was a living, breathing child to him now. And Libby would have to be blind not to have seen the love bloom in his eyes when he’d held his daughter for the first time.
She knew she was courting disaster if she allowed him to spend any more time than necessary around her and Clara, but the stupid key had snapped, and she didn’t have a spare. Until she had the lock replaced, there was no way she could lock the front door.
