Baby, I'm Yours

“Put it there, my frien’,” Felix said, hand extended, teeth flashing. He chuckled. “Only please tell me you can start right away. My back is killin’ me.”

“Deal,” Kevin said, thinking, One problem down, only fivemillion left to go.

Several hours later, after helping Felix make several deliveries, Kevin begged off to go apartment hunting. Not that he didn’t appreciate his friend’s offer, but obviously Kevin was going to need a place of his own. And soon. Someplace he could take his daughter. As it was, prying Pippa away from Victor wasn’t gonna be easy. Without a job and/or a home? Fuggedaboutit.

Even if settling in Albuquerque hadn’t been part of his plan. Okay, plan might be stretching it—truth be told, Kevin hadn’t really thought much past squaring things with Robyn. Even so, although he liked the Duke City well enough, he’d always thought of it as part of his drifting phase. In terms of then, not now. And having finally mended a fence or two with his family, he’d begun to seriously consider returning to Springfield, give in to his sisters-in-laws’ blatant attempts at fixing him up with assorted friends, sisters, cousins. Finding peace right in his own backyard and all that.

He hadn’t told his folks about the baby yet. Although, after forty years of parenthood—not to mention all the hell he’d put them through—he sincerely doubted this would even register on the “You did what?” scale.

Pippa would make their fourteenth grandchild. Not counting the three extras Rudy and Mia brought to the table by virtue of falling in love with people who already had kids. There were towns in New Mexico with smaller populations than the Vaccaro clan, Kevin thought with a slight smile…one that flattened as he slowed down in front of, then drove past, yet another sullen-looking apartment complex that offered month-to-month rentals.

Sure, there were knockout apartments in the city, with stunning landscaping and pools and the like, places he knew Victor Booth would approve of. Places Kevin didn’t dare sign a lease for until he nailed down a steady job. Not to mention, he thought, idling at a stoplight, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel as hip-hop vibrated from the car radio, all the baby crap he’d have to buy. Cribs and changing tables and strollers and…things.

And then there was the whole day-care issue. Finding it, paying for it, worrying about it.

Although…he could take the baby back home, he supposed. His parents certainly had the room, and there’d be more baby stuff than he could shake a stick at, and day-care options, and family, and he could probably find work without too much trouble, doing construction or renovation or whatever. And it wasn’t like anybody could say anything. He was the baby’s father for godssake.

So why didn’t this feel more like a solution? Why, instead of feeling another layer of worries peel away, did he suddenly feel like hurling?

The truck’s wheels scraped the curb as Kevin swerved into a parking space alongside one of the many little parks dotting the city. The door shoved open, he stumbled out of the car, gulping for air as he staggered toward a pool of shade underneath a large ash tree close to the brightly colored playground. Long, thick grass soothed his palms, cushioned his backside when he dropped onto it, tucking his head between his knees for a moment until the nausea passed. A bunch of little kids, under the watchful eyes of their mothers chatting at a picnic table nearby, took turns zooming down a blue twisty slide, screaming, thrilled.

One of the mothers reminded him of Julianne. Slender, blond, with glasses. Shapeless clothes. But a lot more lively—and louder—the woman’s unfettered laughter carrying across the park.

Kevin forked both hands through his hair, remembering the look in Julianne’s eyes when he’d handed Pippa back to her. When she’d told him about losing her husband. Her baby.

Holy hell, he thought as the light dawned—it wasn’t Victor who’d be the biggest obstacle between him and his little girl.

And the longer she stayed with Julianne…the harder removing Pip was going to be.

He dug out his cell phone, his heart slamming against his rib cage for several seconds before he finally flipped it open.

His father answered on the first ring.

Chapter Three

Almost every evening—once the sun was at a kinder tilt—Julianne plopped Pippa in her stroller and took her for a walk around the neighborhood. The excursions did both of them good, getting Pippa used to different sounds and sights and getting Julianne out of the house—out of herself—without having to deal with the tiresomeness of being sociable. Occasionally they’d pass a lone jogger or cycler, an older couple fast-walking their way back to youth, but for the most part it was just Julianne and the baby and the quiet. She loved the quiet.

When she didn’t hate it, that is.

Because while the quiet brought peace, it also provided a far-too-fertile ground for memories. For reflection. For the nagging little voice asking her exactly how much, and for how long, she intended to let herself rot away. This evening, of course, the stroller shimmying over the bumpy sidewalk as they headed back to her father’s house, Kevin Vaccaro had joined the ranks of Stuff to Worry About. As in, what would he do? Would he take the baby…? When would he take the baby…? Would Julianne ever see her again…? Was there any way to solve this without somebody getting hurt? That sort of thing.

Sunlight flashed off a windshield as they turned the corner. Julianne slipped her cheapo sunglasses back on over her regular glasses, pushed the stroller hood forward before Pippa’s squawk of annoyance could rev up to a full-out wail and thought, Nobodytold you to tell him the truth, dimwit.

A sigh scampered to catch up with the thought. Because, damn her goody-goody conscience, she could never have lived with herself if she’d deliberately ignored the chance to do what was right. Now all she could do was trust that Kevin Vaccaro would do what was right, as well—

The sunspot on that windshield gradually diminished, revealing who was standing beside the from-hunger pickup surrounding it.

Well, hell.

“How’d you know we weren’t inside?” she called before her brain alerted her throat to close and her stomach to knot.

In worn jeans and a loose T-shirt, Kevin leaned against the truck’s dented front fender, ankles crossed, arms folded across his chest, watching their approach through a pair of badass sunglasses. Julianne reminded herself she’d never been a big fan of badass. “I passed you on the way,” Kevin said, in a voice deeper, and far more resolute, than she remembered. “You didn’t notice?”

Julianne shook her head, releasing the stomach-knotting signals. Amazing, the difference a measly eight hours makes, she thought, halting in front of him, vaguely noting that the jeans were a huge improvement over the khakis. Because somewhere between then and now, the scraps of leftover boy still clinging to him that morning had slunk off into the sunset, leaving this…this badass.

“What…” She swallowed, started over in a more normal voice. “What are you doing here?”

“I said I’d be back.” He removed his sunglasses, briefly met her gaze, then crouched in front of the stroller, his smile for his daughter absolutely heartbreaking. “So I’m back,” he said in a voice as silky smooth as baby powder, setting off a fine trembling throughout Julianne’s entire body that she could have gladly done without, thank youvery much.

Oh, hell. He was making her nervous. Which, he supposed, was the whole point to gaining the upper hand. Except, dammit, it was like scaring a whippet.

She’d led him through the house, out onto the covered patio. Flowers everywhere. Kick-ass trees. Lots of grass. Not a cactus or yucca in sight. Fair-size pool. Largish shedlike building in a far corner, a workshop, maybe.

“Have you eaten?” she asked, unstrapping the baby from her stroller.

Kevin turned, his gaze glancing off a straight ponytail, straight back, straight, shapeless sundress. Which probably wouldn’t be shapeless if she’d eat something. Fill it out a bit. Yes, he knew some women were naturally skinny, but somehow he didn’t think that was the case here. And what was with the gracious-hostess routine?

“I did, actually. After the meeting.”

“The meeting…? Oh.” She turned. “The meeting. Gotcha.”

He almost smiled. “Yeah,” he said, eyeing his daughter, contentedly gnawing her fist in Julianne’s arms. He’d needed the extra boost, even after talking to his parents. Up until two minutes ago, he’d planned on telling Julianne and Victor right up front what his intention was. Partly so they wouldn’t have time to react, partly before he lost his nerve. Now, however, he was thinking maybe the balls-out approach might not be the best way to go. That maybe it wouldn’t hurt to sell the idea, little by little. “I just go to meetings when the mood strikes. But the ones who make it usually keep it up for the rest of their lives. You mind if I hold her?”

After a momentary startled look, Julianne’s mouth twisted, like she was annoyed with herself. “Not at all,” she said, her sandals slapping against the flat stones as she crossed to him, did the transfer. Pippa never noticed, far more interested in her knuckles than who was holding her. Julianne stepped back, arms crossed. Keeping an eye on him. “Maybe you should sit.”

“I’m not gonna drop her, for cryin’ out loud.”

“Still,” she said, eyes round with worry behind her glasses. Kevin sat. “What goes on at the meetings?” she asked. Still standing.

“Didn’t Robyn tell you?”

“We had her in a private clinic. And if it hadn’t been for the mandatory family group sessions, we would have known next to nothing. And besides, as I said…my sister wasn’t interested in sharing.”

“Sharing is the key word, actually,” Kevin said, turning the baby to face him. “People share their stories. Their personal hells.” Man, was this a strong kid or what, her head not even wobbling on that little linebacker neck. What he could see of the neck for the chins, he thought, grinning. Petrified. Still gumming her fist, shiny with baby spit, Pip grinned back; Kevin’s heart did a triple forward somersault. “And their triumphs,” he said quietly. “Even the littlest ones count. When you’re climbing up from rock bottom, every step back up is a biggie.”

After a moment Julianne eased over to perch on the end of a chaise across from him, her arms still tucked against her ribs, knees pressed tightly together, eyes fastened on the baby. She almost seemed to be shrinking into herself, like she was trying to become invisible. Panting, the Lab plodded over to sit heavily on one hip at her knees. One slender hand reached out to stroke the space between his ears, and Kevin thought, Screw workingup to this. But before he could open his mouth, she said, “You’re taking her, aren’t you?”

He couldn’t meet her gaze. “Yeah.”

“When?” she whispered.

“I promised this upholsterer friend of mine I’d help him out of a bind, so probably not for at least a week.”

“A week? How can you possibly make arrangements to take care of a baby in a week? This morning you said—”

“I know what I said this morning,” Kevin said, finally looking at her. “But since then I’ve talked to my folks. I can live with them indefinitely. They’ve got tons of room, Ma’s agreed to take care of Pip while I look for work—”

“With them? In Massachusetts?”