Larenzo's Christmas Baby

He paused, taking in the sight of the kitchen, and Emma realised what a mess it was, with pots and spoons all over the floor for Ava’s entertainment, and the detritus from her cooking all over the counters.

‘Sorry, I’m not very good at cleaning up as I cook,’ she said.

‘No, it’s fine.’ Larenzo glanced around the room again, and Emma couldn’t tell anything from his expression. ‘I like it,’ he said at last. ‘Shall I set the table?’

He was already getting the forks and knives from the drawer, and Emma watched him, a strange pressure building in her chest. This was all so...normal. So cosy.

Ava had noticed her father and abandoned her pots and spoons to crawl over to him and pull herself up, clutching his legs. Larenzo glanced down at her, his whole face softening into a smile that made that pressure in Emma’s chest turn painful.

‘I’m afraid she’s dented a few of your pots and pans,’ she said stiltedly, turning her gaze to the salad she was needlessly tossing. ‘She doesn’t know her own strength.’

‘I don’t mind.’ Larenzo scooped Ava up with one hand, settling her on his hip as he took the cutlery to the table in the dining nook of the kitchen. ‘This is a bit more manageable than the dining room,’ he said as he laid the table. ‘I think the table in there seats twenty.’

‘Planning on having any dinner parties?’

‘No. I don’t think I know twenty people who would come to a dinner party I hosted, unless it was to gawp and gossip.’ He spoke tonelessly, without self-pity, and Emma eyed him curiously as she brought the lasagne to the table.

‘You don’t have many friends in America?’

‘I don’t have many friends, full stop,’ Larenzo answered. ‘A stint in prison shows you who your true friends are, and mine turned out to be rather few.’

He tried to put Ava in the high chair he’d brought to the table, but the toddler shrieked and arched her back, sticking her legs straight out. Emma watched, amused, as Larenzo tried his best before looking up with a wry smile.

‘She’s really quite strong.’

‘Yes, and she doesn’t like being strapped in.’ Emma plucked Ava from the chair and put her back down on the floor. ‘She’ll want to join us when we sit down.’

‘I suppose I have a lot to learn.’

‘Fortunately Ava provides a steep learning curve,’ Emma answered with a smile.

Emma brought the meal to the table and they both sat down. Just as she’d predicted, Ava crawled over to them, wanting to be part of things.

Larenzo glanced down at his daughter, smiling when she lifted her arms for him to pick her up. He settled her in her high chair this time without Ava making any protest. ‘Tell me about the last ten months,’ he said to Emma when he’d sat down again. ‘Or even before that. How was your pregnancy?’

‘Mostly uneventful, thankfully,’ Emma answered. ‘I was pretty nauseous for the first three months,’ she continued. ‘But then it settled down. She was quite the kicker, though. I couldn’t sleep most nights because it felt like she was playing football inside of me.’

Larenzo smiled at that, his whole face lightening, and Emma quickly looked down at her plate. Larenzo’s smile was dangerous.

‘And the birth? It went well?’

‘As well as these things go,’ Emma answered frankly. ‘It hurt. A lot.’

‘Why didn’t you get pain relief?’

‘No time. She came a week early; she wasn’t due until New Year’s Eve. And I didn’t think I could actually be in labour, because the contractions were irregular and they didn’t hurt all that much.’ She let out a sudden, embarrassed laugh. ‘I can’t believe I’m telling you all this.’

‘Why not? I want to hear it.’

‘Really?’ She heard the scepticism in her voice, and Larenzo must have too, because he nodded firmly.

‘Absolutely. I missed this, Emma. I want to know now.’

But would he have wanted to know then? If Larenzo hadn’t gone to prison, would he have been an involved father? Would they be dating or even married now? Emma’s cheeks heated at the thought. She was glad Larenzo had no idea the turn her thoughts had taken. She cleared her throat and continued. ‘Well, Meghan had been telling me how first babies take for ever, and as it was Christmas Eve I was hoping the contractions might die down. I didn’t want to be in the hospital over Christmas.’