Scanning the lounge to ensure the older kids were staying out of trouble, she tried to hide that she’d also needed her connection to Theo to continue. Her conscience had tortured her over not keeping her word, but she wasn’t sorry. Not one bit.
“I tried to tell you because you deserved to know.” She cleared her throat. “I didn’t, and don’t, expect anything from you. Not money. Not marriage. He was my decision. He’s my responsibility.”
There. That’s all she’d ever wanted to say, even though she had ached every day to share her pregnancy and baby with Theo. Zephyr was such a little miracle. She wanted Theo to love him as much as she did.
“Oh, sweetie, don’t eat that—” she blurted, realizing Androu had picked lint out of the carpet.
Rushing forward was a much-needed break from the weight of Theo’s gaze. She couldn’t face him after what she’d just said and didn’t want to see his relief at being absolved of any duty or involvement with his son.
* * *
Theo tried to find comfort in her letting him off the hook. God knew he didn’t want to explore the miasma of primordial goo that bubbled inside him as he considered what it meant to be a father.
Inexplicably he was hurt, however. Stinging with rejection at her wanting nothing to do with him.
Fortunately, he was too busy to dwell on whether he should feel sorry for himself or not. Once the kitchenette was tidied, there were beds to set up and pajamas to be ordered, then everyone had to be threaded into them—which was like pushing a rope up a staircase.
“I’m thinking we need bedtime stories and some stuffies. Do they have special blankets or sleeping toys? This could be a rough night,” Jaya warned as she placed a call to a nearby shop before it closed.
“Unlike the day it’s been?” he drawled, waving agreement to whatever she wanted to charge to the room.
He wasn’t trying to fuel a fight. It struck him how painfully familiar this tension was, like a typical Makricosta gathering. They had a full-grown elephant between them in the shape of a dark-haired baby boy, but they remained civil, only speaking about the logistics of what needed to be done as they ran their mini-hotel. It should have been a relief, but he found the circumventing and pretending frustrating.
Was this his punishment for the mistake of not wearing a condom? Because he was feeling castigated, chastised and rebuked. Slapped around, knocked down and kicked to the curb.
Why? he found himself wanting to demand. Why don’t you want anything from me? Because you’re afraid I’ll screw up?
He’d never been able to challenge his father, not without suffering worse for it, and he wasn’t sure how to act around Jaya when he felt this abused. His primary instinct when his emotions were churned up was to isolate himself, but no luck on that score. It was all hands on deck and he was about as frayed and tired as the toddlers, barely keeping it together as he counted down the minutes to their bedtime.
If only Jaya would offer the same quiet reassurance she kept giving to the homesick tykes. He watched her adeptly keep them from shedding more than a few sniffles, relieved to know he’d made the right choice in tracking her down, but he was damned jealous of each cuddle and kiss she offered.
His gaze fell on Zephyr and he experienced the crack between the eyes that was his own egocentric vulnerability eighteen months ago. If only he could go back to the ignorance that had been bliss yesterday.
Not all the way back to Bali, though. He didn’t regret making love to her.
Disturbed, he shifted his gaze to Jaya, worried she could read his betraying thoughts.
He wanted to resent her for letting him down, but after what she’d told him about her cousin, he couldn’t find it in him to hate her for failing to take the pill. Maybe the promise of love and life hadn’t been uppermost in his mind when his mother had been dying, but he had an inkling how helpless and hopeless she must have felt.
He couldn’t judge her for using procreation as a coping strategy, either, could he? Not when he’d employed it with her—in a rather shortsighted manner—when he’d been under the duress of Adara’s confession about Nic.
And where was the point in being angry about what she should have done? It couldn’t be undone. The child was here.
Still, he couldn’t face this, couldn’t face fatherhood. What kind of an example had been set for him? Look at his back.
Not that the children had any idea how useless he was. Once they’d scattered their new toys across the blanket Jaya had spread on the floor of the lounge, Evie brought him a book.
“Jaya’s the reader. I’m the sentry,” he said, motioning to his sprawled body acting as a fence between the corner of a chair and the length of the sofa to keep them corralled.