Larenzo's Christmas Baby

‘It makes sense, Meghan,’ she said, which was what Larenzo had said to her last night. Last night she’d lain in bed, staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep as she’d thought about her future, when she’d heard Meghan’s and Pete’s raised voices downstairs, and had known they were talking about her. She’d crept to the top of the stairs, everything in her stilling as Pete had declared,

‘She can’t stay here any longer, Meghan. I’ve been patient, God knows, but two more mouths to feed is expensive, and if this Cavelli character has connections to—’

‘He was cleared of all charges,’ Meghan had cut across her husband.

‘Even so—’

‘She doesn’t have anywhere else to go, Pete.’

‘Then she needs to find somewhere,’ Pete had answered grimly, and Emma had crept back to her bed.

Pete was right. She couldn’t stay here any longer, for too many reasons. And she no longer wanted to deny Larenzo access to his daughter, even if she was afraid of what that might mean. Not for Ava, but for her.

‘You could stay here,’ Meghan persisted, and Emma met her sister’s eye in the mirror hanging over the bureau.

‘You know I couldn’t,’ she said quietly, and Meghan flushed and looked away.

‘I was afraid you might have heard that conversation—’

‘Pete’s right, Meghan.’

Meghan bit her lip. ‘I like having you here, Emma. You’ve been away for so long—’

‘New York City isn’t that far. I’ll visit lots, I promise.’

‘I’ll worry. I still don’t trust Cavelli. Even if he was cleared of charges...’

‘What happened to innocent until proven guilty?’ Emma asked lightly. ‘I trust him, Meghan, and I know he wouldn’t hurt his daughter.’ She paused, her gaze on the clothes she was folding. ‘He was good to me when I worked for him.’ She bit her lip as a pang of bittersweet longing assailed her. ‘He was very good to me.’

‘But can you really trust him?’ Meghan persisted, and Emma thought of what he’d said last night at dinner. You can’t trust anyone in this world. That’s one thing I’ve come to realise. When had he realised that? When he was a child at the orphanage, or when he’d been sent to a prison for crimes he might not have committed? A lifetime of betrayal, perhaps, and yet there was still so much she didn’t understand.

‘Yes, I can,’ she answered Meghan. ‘At least when it comes to Ava.’

Twenty minutes later Larenzo pulled up in front of Meghan’s house in a luxury sedan, a car seat already installed in the centre of the back seat. He loaded the two suitcases in the boot, glancing at Emma.

‘That’s all you have?’

‘I travel light.’

‘But Ava—’

‘The crib and changing table and things belonged to Meghan. They’re hoping for another baby someday, so...’

‘You don’t need to worry about any of that,’ Larenzo said. ‘I’ve taken care of it.’

‘Okay,’ she murmured, and Larenzo held out his arms for Ava.

‘May I?’

Wordlessly she nodded and handed him their daughter. He held her awkwardly, clearly not used to the chubby bundle of arms and legs that was an almost toddler. ‘Hello, sweetheart,’ he murmured, smiling into Ava’s inquisitive face. She gurgled and grabbed his chin in her chubby fists and Larenzo laughed, the sound rusty and surprising and also achingly wonderful. Emma realised she hadn’t heard Larenzo laugh before. It reminded her of the photo she’d shown him, back in Sicily; it was a sound of joy. Suddenly she felt almost near tears. She swallowed hard and watched as Larenzo buckled Ava into her car seat; he fiddled with the straps and with a laugh that managed to clear the tears away Emma helped him.

‘These things are impossible,’ she said. ‘Especially when Ava is resisting.’ She buckled the straps over Ava’s tummy, conscious of Larenzo standing so close to her, his head bent near hears. She closed her eyes, willed herself to develop a little strength. A lot of resistance. Otherwise she was going to have way too many difficult moments with Larenzo. ‘There.’ She patted the buckled straps and straightened, her breast brushing against Larenzo’s arm as she did so. Desire shot through her veins and she quickly turned away and got in the car, deeply unsettled by her own reaction to this man who had catapulted so suddenly back into her life.