Larenzo's Christmas Baby

Larenzo didn’t answer for a moment. He knew she was talking sense but everything in him rebelled against it. Ava was the only family he’d ever had. He wasn’t going to give her up, not even in part, as easily as that.

‘We’ll discuss the future when it is relevant,’ he said, making his tone final. They’d driven through the Lincoln Tunnel and now came out into midtown Manhattan, all of them blinking in the bright sunlight. Even Ava had stopped protesting against the hated car seat as she gazed curiously at the gleaming skyscrapers and the streets teeming with people.

Emma turned to stare out of the window, and Larenzo saw she looked almost as wide-eyed as her daughter. ‘Have you spent much time in New York before?’

‘Not really. As a kid I always lived abroad. My apartment is on the Central Park West, right near the Natural History Museum. It’s a good area for children.’

‘You’ve only been in America for a week, haven’t you?’ Emma asked. ‘How did you manage to secure an apartment so quickly?’

‘Money talks.’

‘And even though the assets of Cavelli Enterprises are frozen, you have money?’

‘I had my own savings, which were released to me when the charges were cleared.’

She turned to give him a direct look. ‘Are you ever going to tell me the whole story, Larenzo?’

His hands tensed on the steering wheel and he stared straight ahead as he navigated the roundabout at Columbus Circle. ‘I’ve told you what you need to know, Emma.’ Perhaps it was foolish to keep the truth from her about Bertrano; it was shaming that he still felt a loyalty to a man who, despite years of shared history, of happy memories, had completely and utterly betrayed him. And he knew that telling Emma his part of the story, how he’d been duped and deceived, wouldn’t make much difference. Yet it would make a difference to him. He didn’t want to admit how naive he’d been, how hurt he’d been. Not to Emma. Not to anyone.

And maybe Emma sensed some of what he felt, for to Larenzo’s surprise she laid a hand on his arm, the touch of her fingers as light as a butterfly’s. ‘I hope you will be able to tell me someday, Larenzo. For your sake as much as mine.’

They didn’t talk after that until Larenzo had pulled up to the elegant brick building that faced Central Park. A valet came out to deal with the car, and a doorman went for their bags.

Larenzo turned to get Ava out of her car seat; she practically flung herself into his arms and Larenzo held his daughter to him, breathing in her clean baby scent as her dark hair tickled his face. His daughter. Even now he nearly reeled from the shock and force of that knowledge. He had a family.

‘Do you want me to take her?’ Emma asked, reaching for Ava, and Larenzo shook his head.

‘She’s okay with me.’ Although he wasn’t so sure about that when Ava began to flail, scrambling to get down.

Emma laughed and reached for her, and reluctantly Larenzo gave Ava over to her. ‘I guess she wants her mother.’

‘Actually, I think she just wants to crawl all over this marble floor and get really dirty,’ Emma answered lightly. She smiled at him, and he thought he saw sympathy in her eyes. ‘She’ll get used to you.’

He nodded, his throat too tight for words. He’d thought he had nothing left inside him; he’d been sure he was broken and empty inside. But knowing he had a daughter, knowing he could have someone to love and be loved by, filled him up to overflowing.

* * *

Emma followed Larenzo into the sumptuous foyer of the apartment building, all marble floors and glittering chandeliers. A doorman nodded respectfully to Larenzo as they passed, and then they stepped into a large wood-panelled lift, complete with a sofa and gilt mirror.

‘Fancy,’ Emma murmured as they soared upwards to the penthouse and then stepped into the huge foyer of Larenzo’s apartment.

‘This marble is a bit hard for a baby,’ she said, tapping the black and white chequered marble with one foot. ‘I wouldn’t want Ava to fall and hurt herself.’

‘I’ll arrange to have it carpeted immediately,’ Larenzo answered without missing a beat, and Emma wondered if she’d been challenging him. How far would Larenzo go to accommodate his daughter? Did she even want to answer that question?

She felt a churning mix of emotions as she stepped into the living room, its large windows overlooking Central Park, now ablaze in autumn colours. On one hand, she was grateful that Larenzo was interested in his daughter. How could she not be? And yet she was also afraid. Afraid of the darkness of his past, the secrets he wasn’t telling her. But more than that: she was afraid of feeling too much for him, of getting too used to this. To him. Of caring for a man who had no intention of reciprocating her feelings. Surely she wouldn’t be so weak. She wouldn’t let herself.