The Match - A Baby Daddy Donor Romance

“Believe it or not, there are guys out there who love babies and who are naturals with them,” I counter. “He and his ex-wife really wanted to have a family, but it never happened. I think he sees Lucia as the daughter he never had.”

Fabian slaps his hands on the quartz counter. “Yeah, well she doesn’t need another daddy.”

Lifting a brow, I cock my head. “Fabian Catalano, I believe I’m sensing some extreme jealousy here.”

Shoulders arched, he exhales. “The man’s a creep, Rossi. And watching him with Lucia …” His voice trails. “It made me feel something I’ve never felt before.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know … like I wanted to dive across the table like a goddamned tiger and rip his face off?”

My jaw falls. “Really? That intense?”

Fabian comes around the island, placing his arms around my waist and steering me into his arms. I press my cheek against his chest, sensing the steady, swift thrum of his heart.

“Promise me something,” he says.

“What?”

“Promise you’ll never date that freak.”

Laughing, I wrap my arms around his lower back and breathe him in. “I promise. But only if you promise to stop calling him names. We’re not in middle school.”

“Fair enough.” He cups my face, angling my chin until our mouths align. “But if he ever looks at you like that—like he wants to eat you alive—it’s game over.”

“Glad to know you’re watching out for us.”

Pressing his wine-flavored mouth against mine, I accept his kiss—and his fingers in my hair and the butterfly frenzy in my chest and the lightness under my feet. They’re here to stay. Unlike Fabian. His time here is limited; sand through the hourglass.

“I should put the baby to bed.” I slink away, and his hands trail down my arms until his fingers intertwine with mine. Our eyes hold and matching smiles paint our lips. He wears the look of a man who wants to eat me alive—in a different way.

Whatever’s happening between us is as terrifying as it is magical.

And I’m here for it.

But only for the next three weeks.

After that, it’s back to reality.

Chapter 20

Fabian

* * *

I’m changing in my room Thursday, hair damp from the shower, when I hear a set of unfamiliar voices coming from down the hall.

A man and a woman.

Peeking my head out, I’m met with Rossi flouncing down the hall, hands waving. “My parents are here.”

“O .. okay.”

“They were in the area and just decided to stop by.” She bites her lip.

“Do they know … about me?”

“They do now. I had to give them the bridged version so my Dad doesn’t have a heart attack, but I think they handled it okay. Carina’s keeping them entertained right now, but they want to meet you.” She takes my hand in hers. “I’m so sorry to put this on you. They’re really nice though, I promise.”

“You said the same thing about Dan …” Leaning in, I steal a kiss before flashing a smile. “But no worries. I’ve got this.”

Following the sound of laughter and conversation, I find the three of them—plus Lucia—seated at the kitchen table.

The instant I step into the light, the room goes silent, as if someone pressed a ‘mute’ button.

“Mr. Bianco,” I say, giving him a nod before turning my attention to his lovely wife—an older carbon copy of Rossi. “Mrs. Bianco.”

“Mom, Dad, this is Fabian.” Rossi places her hand on the small of my back.

Her father rises, coming at me with an extended hand but a face that means business. “Fabian, good to meet you. Our daughter just, uh, filled us in. It’s quite the, uh, story.”

With a hand clasped over her décolletage, Rossi’s mother’s eyes glisten as she makes her way to me.

“Can I give you a hug?” she asks. “You’re practically family. I mean, you’re Lucia’s …” Her voice trails, as if she can’t decide on a word.

Daddy?

Donor?

Opening my arms, I accept Mrs. Bianco’s hug, breathing in her lilac shampoo and the motherly warmth she exudes.

“This is just crazy,” she says, her blue eyes sparkling when she pulls away.

“Remember,” Rossi says. “This needs to stay strictly between all of us.”

“Yeah,” Carina chimes in from the table, bouncing Lucia on her lap. “So don’t go telling Aunt Peg or the entire family will know by Sunday.”

Their mother swats. “My daughters think I’m a gossip or something, but I promise, my lips are sealed.”

Her father studies me, jaw jutted forward ever so, laying the scrutinizing stare on thick as honey but hardly as sweet.

“So what are your plans with my grandchild?” he asks. “Going forward?”

“We’re still figuring things out, but that would be up to your daughter,” I say. “That’s why I’m here.”

“Fabian lives here,” Carina says, shooting me a wink. “Until the end of the month.”

Her mother’s expression fades. “Oh? So you just … moved in?”

“I’m staying in the guest room,” I say, enunciating every syllable. “But yes. We thought it’d be easier to get to know each other if we … immersed ourselves in this situation.”