“You’re not working there. Not anymore,” he replied coolly. He dumped the beef into the larger pan, where it almost immediately began to sizzle. “You never have to work there again.”
Her mouth was agape in fury and grief. “He was going to let me have the week off!”
“So you’d work for free when you got back?” His lips set in a grim line. “No.”
“You don’t know how lucky I was to have that job!”
“Lucky to be on your feet all day and serve salmon platters for four dollars an hour?”
“Ten dollars! When you count tips…”
“You’re not going to work anywhere you’re not appreciated,” he ground out, chopping bacon with more force than necessary and putting it into the smaller pan. “You never have to work again if you don’t wish it.”
She barked out a laugh. “And just what do you think I should do to earn money? How will Henry and I live?”
He couldn’t believe she’d even asked. He glared at her. “I will provide for you both.”
She stared at him with her mouth open, then stumbled back a step in the kitchen. “Is that some kind of joke?”
He hadn’t expected that.
“Why?” he demanded. “I can afford it.”
“You think I would trust you to take care of us?” She drew herself up with furious dignity. “Why would I ever give up myself and my child to your power?”
It was like a knife-blade in his gut.
“You can trust me, Carrie,” he ground out. “I never would have left you if I’d known you were pregnant.”
“Right. You’re not even sure he’s your son, or you wouldn’t have demanded a paternity test.”
“I shouldn’t have doubted you,” he said in a tight voice.
“So you’ll cancel the paternity test?”
In her suddenly hopeful tone of voice he heard her real question: When could she leave?
“You can’t leave until the week is through.” He set his jaw. “We’re going to wait for the official results.”
“Of course. You don’t just believe I’m telling the truth,” she said glumly. She shook her head. “How could I ever trust you to take care of Henry when I know—I know!—you don’t have the loyalty or commitment necessary to love him forever?”
He glowered at her. “You should know the love of a parent is different from—”
She cut him off. “The only reason I’m even still here is because I know that by the end of this week you’ll grow weary of the novelty of a child and give me full custody.”
“I won’t.”
Her eyes glittered. “We both know you don’t have what it takes to commit to anyone. Or anything.”
He put down the knife. As the meats cooked in the two pans on the wide eight-burner stainless-steel stove behind them, he stalked toward her. Folding her arms, Carrie stared up at him, clearly nervous but standing her ground.
Inches away, he looked down at her.
“I’m ready to commit to you,” he said. “Right now.”
“Now?” she taunted. “When you don’t even know for sure Henry’s your son? I’m probably lying. I’m also clearly stupid and blind—since I once loved you.”
Clenching his hands into fists, Théo glared at her. Then, slowly, he exhaled.