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“She is,” she answered huskily.
It was late. She was probably tired as well. This was probably the worst time to ask, but I needed to know if it was even a possibility. “How would you like to come and bring the baby to the next photoshoot? Depending on where it is.”
Her eyes widened, and she squealed. “For real? You mean it?”
I laughed with relief. “I mean it.”
She threw herself into my arms and I awkwardly hugged her back before setting her back on her feet. Her little hands wrapped around my biceps, and she breathed, “Thank you.”
Quickly extricating myself, I broke away to hang up my coat in the closet.
“Let me take that for you.” She reached for the collar, but I pulled it out of her reach. “I hired you to look after Sia, not me.”
She shrugged. “I don’t mind.”
I needed to nip this idea in the bud. “I do.”
Her smile faltered. I hoped that meant she got my message, but she waited for me while I put my things away. And when I went to the kitchen for a drink, she followed.
We walked upstairs together and parted ways at the landing though I knew she wished otherwise.
Otherwise.
That was never going to happen.
Like Hope was never going to happen when I continually pushed her away. I wasn’t treating her fairly. I hadn’t since the first day I met her. In my defense, I had no idea what I was doing. In all my 46 years, I’d never been in a relationship. And it’s not like I had good examples growing up.
Easing the nursery door open, I slipped into my daughter’s bedroom and gazed into her crib.
She slept on her tummy with her knees drawn up under her belly, her little fists tucked under her chest. Like a little cat.
Would she like a kitten one day?
I wondered if I’d slept like that. Maybe Julianna had slept like that as a baby.
My daughter, like me, would likely never know a mother’s touch, a mother’s love.
Jet black hair, sparse on the sides and back, flopped low over her tiny forehead.
Did she need a hair cut?
Thick black lashes shadowed her honey-dusted cheeks. There was nothing of Julianna in her countenance. Not a single thing. I wondered if Sia had looked more like her if she might have stayed.
Anastasia was four weeks old when Julianna decided she wanted out. I had the papers drawn up immediately but didn’t believe she’d go through with it. In the end, she signed the papers relinquishing her rights so fast she made my head spin.
We weren’t in a relationship. I wasn’t in love with her. She wasn’t in love with me.
Perhaps that made it easier for her to walk away.
Some people do.
And I was left with a four-week-old baby I had not the first clue how to care for.
Shortly afterwards, I signed my own set of papers. The contract with Anton’s allowed me more time at home. However, I doubted more equalled enough.
Lowering myself to the floor, I rested my elbows on my bent knees and watched Sia sleep. What did I know about the needs of a child? Surely, at only sixteen months, she didn’t notice my frequent absences. When would that change?
Looking at Hope’s pictures of Brayleigh, and hearing about the difficulty she was having adjusting to Hope’s travel scared me.
