Triplets Under the Tree

“Caitlyn.”

She didn’t look up. Didn’t have to in order to know she was rambling again. Her name was like a code word. Anytime she heard it, it meant shut up.

With a soft rush of cloth, he crossed the breakfast nook, pausing by her chair. He tilted her chin to force her to meet his gaze. The way he’d done last night, but this morning, she didn’t have the fuel of righteous indignation to keep her semisane. Caught in the grip of his powerful presence, she watched him, unable to look away or breathe. His fingers were like live electrical conduits, zapping her skin with energy, and she was pretty sure the heat had climbed into her cheeks.

“Let’s just go shopping, okay?” he asked. “Money is not subject to discussion today.”

“Oh. Um, really?” That certainly wasn’t the tune he’d been singing last night. “I told you, I don’t want your money, nor am I okay with treating you like a blank check.”

She had said that, hadn’t she? The atmosphere last night had been so vibrant and intense, there was no telling what she’d actually communicated now that she thought back.

“I believe you. So let’s be clear. I’m paying. You are shopping.” His smile broadened as she opened her mouth. “And not arguing,” he added quickly before she could interrupt.

“So you don’t have my name in your head next to a little check box labeled ‘gold digger’ anymore?” she asked suspiciously.

He shook his head and dropped his hand, which she instantly wished he’d put back simply because she liked his touch.

“I’m sorry. I was less than tactful last night. We still have the future to sort out, but I’m less concerned about that today than I was yesterday. I’m willing to see what happens.”

“You know I’m breast-feeding the babies, right?” she blurted out, and yeah, that heat was definitely in her cheeks.

His gaze narrowed, but to his credit, he didn’t outwardly react to such an intimate topic. “All three of them?”

She scowled. “Yes, all three of them. Why in the world would I be selective?”

For some reason, that amused him. “I wasn’t suggesting you should be. Forgive my surprise. It just seems like a huge undertaking. Though, admittedly, my understanding of the mechanics is limited.”

Yeah, she’d bet he understood breasts better than most men. “It’s a sacrifice, for sure, but one I’m more than willing to make. But the point is, I can’t just stop. So there’s not a lot of room for seeing how it goes. I’m their mother, not an employee.”

He nodded. “I’m beginning to see that point more clearly.”

At last. There was no telling if he’d actually softened his stance or whether she could explain her feelings any better now than she’d thus far been able to. But the time seemed right to try.

She shut her eyes for a beat and laid it on the line. “Well, thank you for that. You asked me last night what I envision and honestly, I see us co-parenting.”

“You mean long-term?” Even that didn’t ruffle his composure, which, hopefully, meant it wasn’t too far out of a suggestion in his mind.

“Forever. They’re my children,” she said simply. “I want to shop for Annabelle’s prom dress, see them graduate from college, be there when they get married. The works. There’s not one single thing I’d agree to miss.”

His silence wasn’t very reassuring. Finally, he nodded once. “I don’t know how to do that. But I’m willing to talk about it after the holidays, like we agreed. It will give us time to think about what that looks like.”

Breath she hadn’t realized she was holding whooshed out. It was something. Not the full-bore yes she’d have preferred but more than she’d had five minutes ago.

“That’s great. Thank you. It means a lot to me.”

“It means a lot to me that you’re willing to be their mother.” His dark, hooded expression sought hers and held again and she shivered under the intensity. “They need a mother. Who better than the one who carried them for nine months?”

“That’s exactly what I’ve been trying to tell you,” she said and wished she could have pulled that off with a smirk, but it probably just sounded grateful.

“Let me eat some breakfast and we’ll go shopping.” He smiled as Francesco hustled into the breakfast nook, carrying a bowl of oatmeal and some coffee with two teaspoons of sugar, milk and a shot of espresso, the way Antonio liked it.