The Baby (The Boss 5)
At least, I hoped that was what it was. I wasn’t stupid enough that I wouldn’t check for drugs stashed around the place later.
That was an upsetting thought. A rush of anger filled my stomach with hot acid. I was probably getting an ulcer from the whiplash emotions I’d been subjected to for weeks.
When he came up to the living room, I took a deep breath to banish my anger. Put it in
a bubble and blow it away, Scaife. We were here to heal and become a family, again. There was no sense exploding, now.
I stood behind Olivia as she navigated up and down the length of the burnt orange couch, her tiny feet lost in the thick, wooly area rug.
“Look at her!” Neil exclaimed, covering his mouth with both hands. His eyes went all watery with pride.
“Yup, she’s cruising, now. And look.” I reached for one of her chubby little hands and lifted it from the safety of the cushion. Then, I let go, and she peered up at me, her little red nose wrinkling as she snorted with delight at balancing one-handed.
She sat down, hard.
“We need to keep her confined to this general area,” I lamented, gesturing to all the concrete. “I’m afraid she’s going to split her melon on this.”
“Mmm.” He frowned. “Perhaps, it would have been better to stay in London.”
“Right, the town house with the hundred bajillion staircases,” I vetoed him.
“Langhurst Court, then?” He sounded like he was already making plans to pack us up again, but like hell I’d be going to that mausoleum-slash-Downton-Abbey monstrosity any time soon. Neil loved the place, but it gave me the severe creeps.
“How about no? I don’t think Skeletonham Palace is an appropriate place for a baby.” I paused. “Or anything that isn’t a murder-mystery weekend where someone actually dies.”
“You can’t avoid it forever,” he warned, adding an overblown evil laugh.
Olivia squealed and held her hands out.
“Oh, is Afi funny?” he asked, reaching down to scoop her into his arms. He lifted her above his head and looked up to kiss her, and I tried to picture him doing the same thing with Emma as a much younger man.
I wanted Emma to be here for this. I wanted to see Michael lifting Olivia up the same way.
“I love you.”
The words had come out without even thinking. I didn’t have to. Being there with Neil and seeing how much he cherished Olivia—who had, over the course of a few months, become the most important human being in my life—gave me hope that he really could be the man I married again. Or, a version of that man, who was a little dinged up but still functional.
“I love you, too,” he said, his throat moving as he swallowed. “I can’t believe I almost missed this.”
“Missed what?”
“Having another day with the two of you.” He pressed his face to the top of Olivia’s head, closing his eyes. She snuggled her face into his neck and yawned. God, I loved baby yawns.
“She looks like she needs a nap,” I said, though I was reluctant to part the two of them. “Or maybe just to go to bed. What time is it?”
“It’s seven p.m.,” Neil said, and I groaned.
“Arctic Circle?” I asked despondently, and he nodded grimly in reply. I pressed the heels of my hands to my forehead. “I’m never going to sleep! The sun is up like it’s noon!”
“We’re not actually in the Arctic Circle. It will get dimmer around midnight,” he said, then added, quieter, “for about three hours.”
“Fantastic.” I got up and went to him, intending to take Olivia from his arms.
His hold on her tightened, just a little, and he gave me an embarrassed look. “I’m sorry. It’s just been so long—”
“I completely understand. When she went to England with Valerie, I almost went out of my mind. How about I get her bottle and her jammies, and you can put her down?”
He nodded gratefully, and I traipsed off to get Olivia’s things. When I passed my suitcase at the bottom of the stairs, I groaned. Unlike the townhouse in London, there was no elevator to help me here.