“For bringing Oliver to me. I never imagined I would feel like this.”
“That’s a big turnaround from the guy who ignored my emails and phone calls for three weeks.”
He nodded like a man accepting guilt, a storm of blues and grays swirling in his eyes. “I know. And I apologize. I didn’t want to believe it was true. It’s impossible to know how you’ll feel about parenthood until you have a child. If you’d asked me two days ago if I wanted a baby, I would’ve said absolutely not. I don’t feel like that anymore.”
Sarah’s ovaries were whispering to her, God, he’s good. A ridiculously hot guy confessing his tender feelings for a baby? Forget about it. After the bath last night and later being in his bed, Sarah was tempting fate. She needed to keep things professional. “It’s been nice to watch you and Oliver connect. That makes me happy. Now let’s go upstairs and get his room squared away.”
Aiden released her from his grasp, leaving shockwaves of heat. He drew in a deep breath through his nose, studying her face. “Okay. Whatever you say.”
Sarah did an abrupt about-face to lead the way upstairs.
“Hold on a sec,” Aiden said.
“What?”
“Since when do I have a cookie jar?”
“Since you left me alone with the internet and your credit card. You have a little boy in the house. You need a cookie jar.”
“I thought nannies didn’t allow children to have things like cookies.”
Sarah shrugged. “It’s nice to show someone how much you love them by giving them something sweet.” She resumed her trek to the stairs, holding her finger up in the air. “Just not every day.”
Upstairs, the dark wood crib was waiting in the corner of Oliver’s room. There was a combination dresser and changing table, and a beautiful rocking chair as well. All it needed were finishing touches—artwork, more books, his most precious toys—the special things that would make Oliver feel at home.
Sarah had already washed the crib bedding. “Let’s make up his bed. I’ll show you how to lower the side of the crib.”
Aiden stood by her side, again making her nervous, as she showed him how to lift up on the side rail of the crib before lowering it. “Seems simple enough.”
“Be sure that the side always goes up. You don’t want him escaping.”
“Or staging a coup.”
“Very funny. Since Oliver’s pulling up on furniture, the mattress is on the lowest setting. It goes at the top for a newborn. To save your back.”
“Unless there’s something I don’t know, I wouldn’t ever need to put it up higher, would I?”
Sarah started to put on the waterproof mattress pad and Aiden helped at the other end. “Maybe you’ll get married and have another baby.” Why she’d chosen to go on a fishing expedition was beyond her.
“I’d have to keep a woman around for more than a few days for that to happen.”
Leave it to Aiden to casually own up to his playboy ways. “I take it your very short relationship with Oliver’s mom was the norm?” Gail had been spare with her account of Aiden, saying that he was charming and sexy and up-front about not wanting anything serious. Sarah couldn’t blame her for a second for going for it. She would’ve done the same thing if she were brave enough to have a fling. She’d never had a talent for walking away from an amazing guy.
“Remember when I said that I need space? That includes my love life.”
“Space. That’s such a cop-out.” Sarah might have subjected herself to horrible heartbreak, but at least she’d taken chances for love.
“Excuse me?”
“So, you’ll jump out of an airplane, but getting serious with someone is off-limits? You meet a woman and you decide before the start that it’s going nowhere.”
“No, I decide precisely where it’s going. I know how it ends. I know my limitations and I accept them.”
Sarah draped two small blankets over the end of the crib. “If that’s what makes you happy, that’s great. I just don’t think you’re being honest with yourself. You said you need space, but it didn’t take long for you to get comfortable with Oliver.”
“That’s not the same thing, at all. Oliver needs me. And what about you? You’re the one who said you won’t make time for a boyfriend.”
“My situation is completely different.”
“How?”
“Because I refuse to treat a man as temporary.” Exactly the way they tend to treat me. “But you treat women that way. It’s sad, really.”
“I don’t need you to feel sorry for me.”