The sadness—the futility of it all—made her want to weep.
But she couldn’t let herself forget that he was Dylan’s guardian now. Please God, he hadn’t been granted custody, too.
Connor wasn’t the right person to bring up Dylan—he was too hard. Yet, given the animosity between them, it would be no easy task convincing him she was the right person. But failure to do so was not an option.
Because even though she hadn’t carried him in her womb, Dylan had been conceived from her egg—he was her baby.
“Come and sit out here.” Picking up the two cups and saucers she led him to the small deck that opened off the living room, edged with planter boxes filled with primulas and purple pansies.
Without a word, Connor followed.
Once seated, he placed the leather document holder on the white wrought-iron table where she often ate breakfast, and zipped it open.
Unable to restrain herself, Victoria snatched up the will, scanning the headings as she flicked through the pages. And found the clause that spelled out guardianship and custody.
Four
Fury bubbled up inside Victoria. She threw the papers down on the table and her chair scraped back against the deck. “You told me you were Dylan’s guardian,” she accused.
“Coguardian.” Connor shrugged. “And we share custody, too. We need to discuss it.”
The coldhearted bastard had nearly given her heart failure. She’d thought she’d have to beg to be allowed a say in Dylan’s upbringing. All her unspoken reservations about her ability to be the kind of mother that Dylan needed came crashing in on her.
A gust of chilly wind cut through the fabric of her dress. She shivered. Crossing her arms, she rubbed her hands absently up and down her body. She couldn’t allow her insecurities to take hold. She had to believe in herself. Because she was the only parent Dylan had.
Joint custody and coguardianship. How on earth was that going to work? Damn, what had Suzy been thinking?
Or not thinking.
Clearly Suzy had not imagined dying. Suzy would not have thought how impractical it all was to juggle such a young baby between two households.
Sure, it had been done before. But Connor had no motive to cooperate—it wasn’t as if he was the baby’s father. Still, as a single man who ran a large business, he probably wouldn’t want to be hamstrung with a baby. Her heart lifted a little at the realization. In fact, he’d be glad to be rid of the burden.
Connor moved his chair a little nearer and Victoria tensed as she always did when he invaded her space. He stopped, too close now, and leaned toward her. Protectively she tightened her arms around herself. She could smell the crisp, lemony scent of his aftershave, which still lingered after the long day.
The light-gray eyes held her captive. “Victoria, if you don’t mind keeping Dylan for another day or so while I get a room ready and painted out for him, I’ll take him as soon as I can. Certainly by Thursday.”
The spell snapped. Don’t mind keeping Dylan? Then give him up to Connor in a day or two? That wasn’t happening!
Pushing her chair back, she leapt to her feet. “Dylan will live with me,” she cut in, desperate to get this settled as quickly as possible.
“With you?” Connor tilted his head back and gave her a raking glance. He looked unnervingly assured. “No way!”
“What do you mean, no way?” For one awful moment she thought he’d seen all the way to her soul. Read her doubts about her mothering abilities. Then she pulled herself together. She would learn. She would ask the caregivers at the day-care center a thousand questions. There was no way she could do a worse job than her own parents. “How will you cope with a baby? You don’t even have a home!” At the blaze of fury in his eyes Victoria wished she’d left the last rash bit unsaid. Heck, she didn’t even know if it was still true. “I mean, your ex took your home.”
“And I bought another,” he said very softly, his eyes glinting dangerously.
So he thought a home could simply be bought?
Something of her skepticism must have shown, because he added, “I have a house with a garden to play ball in and a swimming pool to splash around in—not a shoebox like this.” Connor cast a disparaging look around the small deck, his gaze pointedly resting on the pale-cream couches and white carpets visible through the glass sliders. “At least Dylan will be able to grow up a boy in my home. What kind of life would he have here?”
“I’ll buy a suburban house with a garden,” she said, thinking back to the warmth and love that had filled Suzy’s parents’ home. “I haven’t needed more than this until now.”
She could afford to do it. Her savings were in a healthy state. Despite the lump sum she’d insisted on giving Suzy to help with the IVF expenses, which had been worth every cent. The outcome had been Dylan.
“And that’ll mean your commute to work will increase.” He gave her that sharklike smile. “Or did you intend to stop working?”
“Of course not!”
She needed to carry on working, otherwise how would she be able to give Dylan everything he deserved? Good day care and private schooling were expensive. And Dylan would get the best. She had no intention of leaving Dylan to the mercy of her own ignorance. And besides, it wasn’t only for Dylan. She loved her job. It gave her a sense of self-worth. And it paid pretty damn well, too. She couldn’t imagine giving up the client base she’d worked so hard to build. Nor would she ever throw away the independence she’d strived all her adult life to secure.
“Don’t try telling me you would give up work if Dylan lived with you,” she challenged, “because I won’t swallow it.”
“But I can take as much time off as I want to spend with Dylan—I’m the boss. And I have a full-time housekeeper. Dylan would be well cared for. It has nothing to do with double standards.” His bleak gaze settled on her. “Unlike you, I can devote as much time to Dylan as he needs.”
The emptiness that lay behind his eyes was the very reason she could never surrender Dylan into his care. He would never be able to convince her he could give Dylan more love than she could. If her parenting skills were in doubt, Connor’s were even more so.
A strong surge of maternal yearning took her by surprise. She swallowed. She would not lose Dylan to the block of rock who stood in front of her.
The baby was hers.
Hers.
And she would fight with everything she possessed, every weapon at her disposal, to make sure Dylan stayed with her. She, at least, was capable of giving him love.
“He’s not leaving here.” She realized her voice had risen.
“Victoria, be sensible—”
“I’m being perfectly sensible.”
He gave a snort. “With the hours you work you don’t have time for a baby. Suzy told me—me and Michael,” he amended as her brows drew together. “She was worried about you. She thought you’d buried yourself alive. All you lived for was building a practice that would lead to more status.”
“Buried myself alive?” The idea that Suzy had discussed her with Connor hurt. “What about you? You started a new company—and not just any company, the Phoenix Corporation is a huge venture.”
“Yes, but I employ a large staff, I delegate—I don’t do everything myself. I still found time to visit Michael and Suzy—”
“You pig!” Victoria couldn’t believe she’d heard right. “How can you say that? You cruel—”
“Oh, God, I’m sorry, Victoria.” His chair crashed backward and he came toward her, his hands outstretched. “I didn’t mean it that—”
She slapped his hands away. “You meant it exactly that way.” Her fingers stung. She stared down at her reddening palms. The tears she’d stanched so fiercely for the past two days leaked out.
“Victoria, I’m sorry.” His arms closed around her.
She fought him off, elbowing him fiercely. “Let go of me, damn you!”
He dropped his arms and stepped back, breathing heavily.
She stormed past him through the glass sliders. Half a dozen strides carried her across the living room and she yanked the front door open, her clammy hands clutching the door handle to keep her trembling knees from giving out. She’d wanted him to hold her, to share the grief … but never like this. “Get out.”
“We need to talk about Dy—”
“I have nothing to say to you. Go.”
“Victoria—”
She kept her gaze averted, horribly conscious of the soundless tears streaming down her face and the nausea rising in the back of her throat. “Please, just go.”
He stumbled past her. At the last moment he turned. “If you need—”
Hot, blinding anger surged, and she said, “I don’t need anything you can give me.”
Without another word Connor left.
The funeral was finally over. Mourners huddled in groups in the church hall sipping coffee from white cups.
Connor glanced to where Victoria stood in silence beside three women who he assumed must’ve been friends of Suzy’s. The scooped neckline of the fitted black dress she wore accentuated her collar bones and the delicate line of her throat, and her tall, slender body moved to-and-fro as she rocked Dylan. But she didn’t spare him a glance. She’d barely spoken to him today.