More Than Need You (More Than Words 2)

She takes the boy gratefully and hugs him tighter than ever, shooting me a glance that asks who are you? “Why did you come here?”

I send her a reproving stare. “Really? You have to ask?”

Britta swallows—her anger, her pride—and blanks her face. “Thank you. I don’t know what I would have done without you tonight.”

“Watched him fall.” I smile wryly. “I did something similar at his age and broke my ankle. Is that how he broke his arm?”

“He didn’t, just got a finger stuck in a door at school. Normally, it would require a simple splint, but asking a toddler to leave the dressing alone…” She rolls her eyes.

“I’m glad that’s all it was.”

“Me, too. You have no idea. He’s gotten so big so quickly. He’s never not listened to me like that. I’m still shocked.”

“You know me, and you’re wondering why he’s headstrong?”

She tsks and shakes her head. “Good point. The last three months have been really hard. I thought I’d escaped the terrible twos, but suddenly…”

“He’s willful? He bucks authority? He does crazy things for a thrill?”

“Yeah. I don’t…” She frowns. “He was such a good baby, too. Never sick. Rarely cried. Liked to eat and sleep, enjoyed his playtime and his baths. He loves it when I read to him. He never minds his car seat but…”

“This is his first step to becoming a man.”

Britta looks horrified. “What are you talking about? He’s not even three.”

“Independence was always a big thing for me. I couldn’t wait to grow up, try new things, be my own person.” I shrug.

“I’m not ready for that. He’s a still a baby.”

Not so much. And certainly not for long. It hits me that she’s going to need help as he gets bigger and bigger. The last thing I want is her struggling to give him the boundaries he’ll require. Or for Makaio to provide them.

Tamping down anger at that thought, I can’t resist touching Jamie again, smoothing my palm over his crown. “But growing every day.”

“I remember when he fit easily into my arms. Now he’s over three feet tall. His pediatrician thinks he’ll be about six foot five when he’s full-grown.” Britta sounds distressed by that fact.

I take a chance and cup her shoulder. “If you let me, I’ll help you every step of the way.”

That shuts her down instantly. “We need to go. I have to feed Jamie dinner.”

When Britta turns away and scoops up her bag, I follow. “I’ll take you two out to eat.”

“No, thank you. I defrosted pork chops.”

“Work with me here. I’m late to acknowledge that I’m a father.” I grab her arm and turn her to face me, grateful that Jamie seems focused on some other kids just arriving at the park. “But I won’t leave again.”

“I don’t want to talk about this now.” She pulls out of my grip and rushes toward her car again. “It’s too soon, too complicated. You made your choice a long time ago, and—”

“I hurt you. And I’m more sorry than you think I’m capable of. I’ll tell you that every day until you believe me. But the only reason to keep us apart”—I gesture to Jaime—“is because you’re afraid of me or you’re feeling spiteful. I’ve never known you to be vindictive or mean, angel.”

“Don’t call me that.” She fumbles inside her bag for the keys to her car.

I know why she’s demurring, but she looks like an angel to me. “Don’t leave yet. When can I see him again?”

She finds the shiny key ring and presses the fob. Her hands are shaking. “I have to think about it. I’ll see you Monday at work.”

I debate whether I should tell her I have an appointment in the morning with a former client who happens to be a family law attorney. That’s probably the only reason he agreed to see me on a Saturday. But I keep silent. It’s not a threat. I simply want to know my rights—and how I go about getting more. In fact, as many as possible.

When she struggles to open the rear passenger door, I nudge her hand aside and jerk it wide. I could let her put Jamie in his car seat, but this may be my last time to hold him for a while, so I take him from Britta’s arms and give him a quick squeeze. Thank goodness he’s not fighting me. It feels so good to just touch him, like a part of me was missing but I’ve suddenly found it.

Then again, that’s how I feel every time I look at Britta.

“Give him back to me,” she huffs.

By the time she’s finished her sentence, I’ve already set him in his car seat and ruffled his hair.

“I’m just strapping him in,” I assure her.

Jamie stares at me uncertainly. I smile back. I know some kids are weird about strangers—as they probably should be. But I can’t deny that I want Jamie to like me. I’m disappointed our first conversation is me scolding him for his acrobatics. But it probably won’t be the last such conversation. I wish we’d had more time to bond. I’m hoping that, after today, we’ll have the rest of our lives to get to know each other, so he can love me the way I already love him.

But for now, my time with him has run out.

When I turn my attention to securing him safely in his car seat, I encounter a tangle of buckles and straps…and I’ve got no idea what the hell to do.

After a little fumbling, I manage to fasten the device appropriately. I think.

“Is it supposed to be this tight? He can’t move.” I step back from the open car door so Britta can stick her head in.

She murmurs something to Jamie, then checks over my work. “Yes. That way he can’t go anywhere in case we get in an accident.”

That makes sense, I guess, but I don’t know how this contraption doesn’t give him claustrophobia. “Can I see him tomorrow? Please.”

She bites her lip. “I have a ton of housework to do.”

“I’ll drive over and pick him up. I’ll bring him here to—”

“Absolutely not.” She shuts the rear door and stands in front of it protectively. “You’re not taking Jamie anywhere unsupervised.”

“I would never harm him,” I protest.

I’m actually hurt. Britta knows me. I may have been a lousy boyfriend in the past, but I’m not violent or mean. I’m not the kind of guy who would kidnap him from his mother. I simply want to be with him.

“You don’t know anything about Jamie,” she points out. “He has likes and dislikes. He has a food allergy. You can’t…” She shakes her head so vehemently she doesn’t finish her sentence.

She’s getting worked up and digging in her heels, so I need to back off. It’s something she did once or twice when we were together. But my angel has grown more spine in our time apart. She’s spicier.

I like it.

“Or I can take him out in your backyard while you keep an eye on us. Whatever makes you comfortable. But you’ve spent his whole life with him. I’ve had less than five minutes. C’mon…”

She presses her lips together in thought. Britta is a reasonable woman deep down. She wants to accommodate. She dislikes strife. I have hope.

“What am I supposed to tell him?” she whispers. “You can’t just show up and be his buddy.”

“I was thinking we’d tell him the truth.”

Britta grips her car keys and trots around the back of her vehicle. I don’t want to, and it’s utterly the wrong time, but I can’t avoid noticing that her ass looks fantastic in those exercise pants.

Then I realize she’s making a mad dash for the driver’s seat