She slipped out of bed over to the closet, grabbing a pair of sweats and a T-shirt, dressing as quickly as possible, doing a victory hop-step down the hall to Ana’s room.
A little ray of joy broke through everything else when she saw Ana in her bed, kicking her feet, her eyes bright, her expression indignant. The memories, the confusion over Dante, for a moment, it all lessened.
“Morning, baby!” She leaned over and plucked her from her crib, kissing her soft head. “Let’s go get breakfast.”
She carried Ana downstairs and set her in her bouncy chair, letting her watch as Paige got her bottle ready. Then Paige picked her up and sat in one of the kitchen chairs to feed Ana. She smiled at the contented look on her face. Her fists were balled up by her face, her eyes round.
“Okay, take a break.” Paige pried the bottle from Ana’s lips, which earned her an indignant squeal. Then she propped her up over her shoulder and patted her back until she burped.
“Now you can have the rest.” She returned her to her feeding position.
“My housekeeper isn’t in on the weekend,” Dante said when he entered the room.
“That’s fine. I can pour a bowl of cereal. What do you usually do?”
“I can pour a bowl of cereal,” he said.
“But you didn’t even know if you had chocolate, so I assume you don’t.”
“I go out,” he said.
“Ah.”
“I take it you don’t want to?”
“You can,” she said. “I want to stay home with Ana. Spend more time on the terrace. She really liked it out there and it looks like it’s going to be a beautiful day.”
“I can pour a bowl of cereal,” he said. “I can pour two. We can eat together.”
He made it sound like he was submitting to mild torture. “You don’t have to.”
“It’s the right thing,” he said.
“Why? You think it’s what you have to do because I was a virgin?”
“Yes. Don’t protest. I’ve never slept with a virgin before. Allow me to salve my conscience.”
“Bleah,” she said. “Don’t let your conscience be wounded on account of my hymen.”
“Dio, Paige,” he said, pulling a bowl out of the cupboard and slamming it onto the counter. “Must you say things like that?”
“I’m a blurter. I blurt. That’s how we got into this situation in the first place.”
“I remember.”
“I thought you might. It’s one of those defining moments in one’s life. When someone lies about being engaged to you and you read about it in the news.”
“That does stay with you.”
She looked down at Ana. “You think I’m capable of taking care of Ana, right? Or being a mother, and seeing that she grows into a functional, happy human being?”
“I’ve said as much.”
“Great. So why would you think I can’t handle this?”
“I…”
“Exactly. You have no grounds. Either I’m tough enough to raise a child and fight to keep her, or I’m too wimpy to know my own mind and can’t be trusted to make decisions about who I sleep with. But I can’t be both.”
“You could never be accused of being a wimp.”
“Didn’t think so. It would be like accusing you of being too effervescent.”
He took a box of cereal out of the pantry. “You don’t think I am?”
“No offense, but no.”
“What am I then?” he asked.
Yet again, she could sense a strange, underlying seriousness to the question. And she had to wonder if sleeping with him had formed some sort of deeper connection, or if sex just made him philosophical.
“I’m not sure,” she said. “Whatever you are, you’re good underneath all that hardness on the outside.”
“You think so?” he asked, a humorless smile curving his lips.
“I know so.”
“How?”
“Here I sit in your kitchen, with Ana. And you’re helping us. No matter how many layers of self-serving motivation you wrap it in, that’s still the heart of it.”
“I was paid back in full last night, don’t you think?” His tone hardened, his eyes turning to cool chips of coal.