A hint of a smile touched Ben's lips and I wasn't sure if it was the thought of my hair getting pulled out that was so amusing or if it was the mention of his daughter.
'Yeah, well, goodni-'
'Going somewhere tomorrow?' he asked.
My mouth closed, and I frowned. I felt silly telling him my plans because, turning them over in my mind, they seemed clichéd. I could just imagine the eye roll that would result from saying I was heading to Tiffany's. Screw it. The Worthingtons' secrecy made me want to be nothing but an open book. I lifted my chin as I unscrewed the lid to my bottle of water and took a long swig.
'Actually, I'm going to Tiffany's.'
'For breakfast?' he said. It wasn't quite an eye roll but there was an undercurrent of smartarse in his words.
'Nah, I was thinking more of a brunch thing, I might have a bit of a lie-in,' I said, thinking, there, I had done it. I loved my sleep and seeing as I would be off the clock, I fully intended to claim some of it back. If I was expected to somehow function during the week, maybe I could do a weekend catch-up. It seemed reasonable to my mind.
'Well, sounds like you have it all figured out then,' he said as he shovelled more rice into his mouth.
'Yes. Yes, I do.'
A silence fell between us. I excused myself with a nod, and was at the door before he spoke again.
'Just one thing,' he said, and dread swept over me. What did he want? For me to be back by a curfew?
I turned, trying not to look as though I was worried about what he had to say next.
As if sensing my unease, Ben drew out the silence a little longer as he chewed thoughtfully. 'Don't forget to let your hair down,' he said.
I couldn't help but blink with surprise. Was he being … playful? This was different, but I took it for what it was: the approval I was looking for. A newfound hope made me smile in return.
'Yeah, maybe I will.'
Chapter Fourteen
I'm not sure why I'd believed that, come the stroke of midnight on a Friday night, I'd be handing over the reins and baby monitor to Ben. Because that hadn't happened, and now at 2:11 am Grace was crying so loud neither of us would need a baby monitor. I groaned. Rubbing the sleep from my eyes and peeling the doona aside, I cursed myself for not clarifying the night-shift duty. Half-asleep, I navigated to the doorway, bumping into the dresser and cursing as I did every time I walked into it at some ungodly hour of the morning. I tried to wake up a little more to make sure I got down the staircase without breaking my neck. I arrived at exactly the same time as Ben, equally sleepy and dazed, his hair a mess. He scratched at his bare chest, and his light blue pyjama pants rested low on his narrow hips.
Seeing him half-dressed like that, I was suddenly awake. My eyes roamed over the impressive indentations along his stomach, a toned, smoothed-out landscape I couldn't help but want to reach out and explore.
'It's okay, I got this,' he croaked as he zigzagged toward Grace's room.
I suddenly found myself grabbing his arm. 'Wait.'
He stopped, his eyes narrowing at my hand on his arm, which felt like granite under my fingers. He opened his mouth to speak but I placed my finger to my lips, signalling for silence.
'She's gone back to sleep,' I whispered. We'd hit a spot of luck: for the first time in, well, forever, Grace had managed to settle herself.
Ben tilted his head as though he didn't entirely believe me.
'I swear if she sleeps for you on the weekend, I will be so annoyed.' I half-laughed.
'Doesn't Grace sleep?'
It was then I realised that, of course, he wouldn't know, he had been here only one night, and before me he'd probably never truly been here. Why would he know his daughter's sleeping habits? He was simply a parent who got to breeze in in the daylight hours and enjoy the best of what their children had to give – the smiles and the cuddles – before handing them back for a nappy change and to wipe the drool away. Welcome to reality, buddy!
I was suddenly less anxious about the weekend and began to look forward to it. A few days of reality might have Ben eating my home-cooked meals and being a little more appreciative.
'No, Ben, Grace doesn't sleep. Well, not for long, anyway.'
He seemed troubled by this. 'Is there something wrong with her?'
'No, there is nothing wrong with her,' I said, turning to the stairs.
'Maybe it's hereditary. I don't sleep much either.'
'You'll be the perfect night-time companion for her then,' I said, smirking at him, but by the stony expression on his face, he wasn't amused. 'Look, she's a baby – a baby who has to settle into her surrounds. I'm new in her life too. Grace will adjust in time.'
And then I said something so stupid I could have kicked myself. 'Just yell out if you need anything.' No, no, noooo, Sarah, shut up! Don't cross the line!
But I couldn't help it, I could tell he was worried and anxious; it was the first real sign of vulnerability he'd shown and I couldn't help but feel sorry for him. Besides, if he was anxious, Grace would be too. She'd pick up on how he was feeling and it would not make for a happy family.
Something flared in Ben's eyes and his mood seemed to darken. He squared his shoulders, becoming the confident, no-nonsense businessman once again. 'Thanks, but I think I can handle my own child,' he said coolly.
Right. I wanted to tell him where to go. Instead I nodded. 'No worries,' I said, as light and carefree as I could manage. 'Goodnight, Ben.'
And good luck!
Chapter Fifteen
I had an amazing, deep, dreamless sleep, right?
Wrong. So, so wrong.
Not only did Grace's cries wake me, but I was ever aware and pained by the knowledge she was having a restless night, and I could hear Ben pacing, trying to comfort her. I had gotten out of my bed several times to lurk on the stairway and it took every ounce of my willpower not to interfere. Even though it was the night from hell for all of us, Grace finally settled at 6 am, and Ben survived his first night as a single parent.
So I wasn't exactly replenished, but I was nevertheless high-spirited. Forgoing the sleep-in, I was showered and dressed by 8 am and headed down the stairs expecting a quiet household.
The aroma of freshly plunged coffee hit me first, then the sound of the radio playing jazz from the lounge. It was an incredibly civilised way to greet a New York City weekend, but when I entered the room, an unexpected sight greeted me. The same topless, pyjama-bottom-clad Ben was on the couch reading The New York Times with a happy, inquisitive Grace propped on his lap. He was intently focusing on the print through black-framed reading glasses, his hair in disarray, a light stubble dusting his jawline. My God, if he wasn't the sexiest thing I had ever seen in my life. Aside from the scene being picture perfect enough for a designer catalogue, I couldn't help but smile at the cushion fortress on either side of his lap, a preventative measure should Grace tumble over, not that that could happen with his strong, muscular arms caging her in protectively. It was then I knew Grace would be fine, that I could go out and enjoy my day without having to worry about their wellbeing. Hell, Ben even had leftover beef stroganoff prepared for his lunch, all the washing was done and the house was clean – what was there to worry about?
'The coffee has just been plunged if you want some,' he said without once taking his eyes from the paper. It was a welcome distraction from my instinct to go straight to Grace. I had to snap out of that headspace. The sooner I got out of here, the better.
I grinned as I poured my coffee, watching Ben's ongoing battle to prevent Grace reaching for the newspaper, no doubt wanting nothing more than to tear it and shove it in her mouth,.
I glanced at the paperwork on the bench: the instructions for the baby formula. The steriliser was plugged in and brewing a batch of clean bottles. If I was going to do something out of the kindness of my heart I could maybe have offered to watch Grace while he took a shower and got dressed, but I shut the thought down. I would give Ben the baby-transporting advice if he wanted to get things done and that would be it. I really had to go!
Finishing my coffee, I rinsed out the cup and placed it on the sink. I could get something to eat while I was out and about, otherwise I would end up making something here and cooking breakfast for Ben as well. I had to be all about tough love on the weekends, I had to be.
'I see you have your hair down.'
Ben was in the same position. Either he had amazing peripheral vision or he had managed to sneak a peek when I was in the kitchen, but then I realised the more likely option as I met his eyes in the mirror over the mantel.
'It suits you,' he said matter-of-factly before looking down to his paper.
Although the comment sounded like he was reading an Ikea flat pack instruction sheet, it felt strange to hear something nice come out of his mouth.
I grabbed the BabyBjorn carrier and walked over to the lounge, placing it on the coffee table in front of him. Ben looked over his paper. Despite how damn sexy he looked from this angle, all I could do was smile at Gracie, who was as happy and bubbly as ever.
'I don't know where you get your energy from, Miss Gracie.' I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear.
'Youth.' Ben scoffed. 'What's this?' He folded his paper and looked at the BabyBjorn with interest.