“Hmm.” Matthew poked Richard’s cheek with his finger and laughed. His infectious giggle caused Richard to chuckle back. He tightened his arms under Matthew, delighting in the sensation of holding his son, amazed at how light he felt; yet how perfectly he fit in his arms.
“He’s beautiful.” Richard stared at Hanna with new eyes. How could he hate somebody who had made something so perfect?
“He likes you. He doesn’t usually throw himself at people.” Her voice was steady but he could see her eyes glisten. She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and glanced away. “Has everything been okay, Tom?”
Richard had forgotten it wasn’t only the three of them and glanced up at Tom with surprise. “Hi, Tom.” He reached out a hand, adjusting Matty so he was holding him firmly with his other arm.
“Richard, it’s good to see you.” Tom’s grin was as huge as Richard’s. “It’s been a long time coming.” He raised his eyebrows at Hanna. She had the good grace to look ashamed.
“Where’s Ruby?” Hanna pushed herself onto her tiptoes so she could glance over Tom’s shoulder and into the villa. “I thought she’d be the first out to see us.”
“She overslept,” Tom replied with a mock whisper. “I’ve been up with Matty since five.”
Matty nodded rapidly, as if he was joining in the conversation. “Up.”
“That’s right, Matty. Up and awake. Makes me really happy.” Tom’s voice was deadpan. “It’s all over to you now, Richard. Enjoy.”
“I intend to,” Richard’s face seemed molded into a permagrin. “I can’t see the early mornings being a problem.” Not even mixed with jet lag. He didn’t intend to miss a moment more with his son.
“Hi, Richard!” Ruby’s voice carried through the tiled entranceway and out of the door. The loud clattering of her running down the stairs was followed by a vision of green, hurtling herself across the hall and barely coming to a halt in front of her brother. “I can’t believe I missed the big reunion. I’ve been planning it for days.” She turned around and punched Tom on the arm. “I told you not to bring him out here.”
“Lay off the violence,” Tom chided good-humoredly. From the way his eyes lit up as soon as Ruby arrived, Richard could tell there was something more than friendship going on. He shook his head slightly, trying to get the thought out of his mind. The older brother act would have to wait; he had bigger fish to fry.
“Don’t you love him, Richard? Isn’t he gorgeous?” Ruby had already forgotten Tom’s infraction, and started to make faces at Matty, who giggled in response. “You look so natural holding him. Have you ever held a baby before, do you know what you’re meant to be doing?” She looked almost disappointed to have to stop and take a breath.
“I held you for hours when you were a baby. All clingy and whiny, not to mention constantly needing your diaper changed.” Richard raised his eyebrows at Ruby, and her cheeks flushed as she glanced across to see if Tom had heard. “So I think I’ll do fine.”
The day passed in a blur of diapers, food, and bright plastic toys. In between naps and play, Richard marveled at what must seem like a normal Wednesday to anybody else was like a day of miracles to him. His attention was constantly on his son, watching his chubby legs wobble as he ran from room to room, the constant need to rush seeming to be his main motivation in life. He was energetic right up until the moment tiredness hit, and suddenly, like an electronic toy whose battery had run out, he flagged and curled up in Hanna’s arms, sucking at his thumb and pointing at a book.
Hanna showed Richard how to run the bath to hit the right temperature, how to change Matty’s nappy so his constant wriggling didn’t cause a bigger mess. Everything she did seemed accompanied by a soundtrack of advice and experience, and part of him wanted to push her away and tell her to leave him alone. He was an intelligent guy, he was pretty sure he could handle an eighteen month old child.
Bedtime was perfect. Matty’s room had been decorated before Hanna gave birth, though she’d refused to find out the sex of the baby. It felt warm, and calm—like an island oasis after a storm. The two of them walked him into the nursery together, Hanna holding Matty tightly against her chest, and he lifted his head up and struggled until she lowered him down, letting his tiny feet touch the warm wooden floor.
He toddled over to the pale blue bookshelf, pulling out a well-worn dog-eared book and holding it out in front of him. Walking toward Richard, he offered it to him with an expression on his face that was hard to read.
“Story.” Like he knew Richard was a novice, Matty held out his hand, curling it around Richard’s, and together they walked over to the blue-and-cream plaid rocking chair next to his cot. Richard sat down, helping Matty as he clambered onto his knees, curling up on Richard’s lap with his thumb in his mouth.
He held Matty’s head against his chest, luxuriating in the warmth flowing through his veins. It was almost impossible to believe only two days earlier he hadn’t even known of Matthew’s existence. Now Matthew was Richard’s existence.
“Read,” his son commanded, and Richard suppressed a grin. He unfolded the cardboard book, being careful not to pull the paper away from the edges any more than they already had done, and began to read in a soft, deep tone.
“Once upon a time, in a land far away…”
He turned the pages, reading the words and sharing the pictures with Matty, watching as his son’s eyelids began to droop, his thick, pale lashes sweeping his face. Richard reached a hand out and gently cupped Matty’s cheek, feeling the softness of his skin and the plumpness of his tired smile. His heart clenched with the thought he’d always have him, always be able to hold him in his arms. Matty was his now, as much as he was Hanna’s, and he was determined never to let him go again.
Out of everything that had happened in the past twelve years, from the way they first met, to the way she had run away from him yet again, he couldn’t regret a single moment. Not if it had led to the birth of this child. No matter what he felt toward Hanna—or how he regarded her actions to date—he couldn’t bring himself to hate a woman who had nurtured Matthew in the way she had.
All day he’d watched the love spill over from her eyes as she watched their son, played with him, picked him up when he was crying and chastised him when he did something wrong. Every movement she made, every word she spoke, was with Matthew in mind.
He was clearly first in both their lives.
When Matthew was asleep, Richard kissed his soft, light brown hair before lifting him gently into his cot. Pulling the blanket over him until his body was covered, he lingered a moment longer, burning the image of his peaceful son into his mind so he could think about him all night.
Richard turned to leave, seeing Hanna standing by the door, tears pouring down her face. She was wringing her hands as she stared at the two of them. Part of him wanted to touch her, to pull her into his arms, but he didn’t want to give her false hope that all was well between them.
All was far from well.
“Can we talk?” she asked.