That tilt of his lips shows itself again. “Yeah, that’s what I said, but everyone’s insistent that I get a paternity test.”
Debating if now’s the time to pry, I cautiously ask, “What happened with her mom?”
Henley lets out a sigh, running a hand through his wet hair as the other one continues to secure the towel around his waist.
Just look into his eyes, Elodie. That’s right. Above the chest. Do not look down. I repeat, do not look down.
“It was a…short-term thing. I didn’t even know she was pregnant, but it’s partly my fault. She tried calling me months ago, but I didn’t answer, thinking she was a stage five clinger.” He casts his gaze to the side of the room. “Anyway, she never wanted kids but thought she might feel differently after Remy was born. Turns out, she didn’t.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. This is for the best, especially for Remy.”
“What do you mean?”
The brief glimpse of vulnerability this man just displayed vanishes right before my eyes—as if someone flipped a switch.
“It’s not important.” Holding up his clothes, he gestures toward his room. “I’ll be right back. Pizza is already on its way. I hope you like anchovies.”
My stomach turns as my lips follow suit. “Uh…”
That smirk makes an appearance again, which makes me think it’s not so rare after all. “I’m just kidding. I hope you like cheese and pepperoni. I’m sort of a child when it comes to pizza toppings.”
“Cheese and pepperoni are great,” I say as my pulse races as fast as a hummingbird’s wings.
With a nod, he retreats to his room and I let out the breath I was holding. My phone buzzes next to me on the couch.
Lennon:You’d better send me a picture of your boss, stat. Otherwise, I’m going to assume that he’s hot, which means you’re in more trouble than I thought, and I might have to rescue you and drag you back home sooner rather than later.
Sighing, I steady Remy in my arms while I text her back.
Me:Fine. He’s attractive, but I have it under control. And I need this time, Lennon. Please. I told you, I’m making the decision by Christmas, okay?
Lennon:Fine. But I still want a picture.
“Come here, little one.” Henley appears in front of me, reaching out to take his daughter from my arms, holding her to his chest now which is fully covered—thank God—smiling down at her.
I stand from the couch, holding my phone out to snap a picture of them.
“What are you doing?” Henley asks as I glance at the picture on my screen while my ovaries practically melt inside of me.
“Taking your picture.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re going to want these memories one day. Remy is going to grow faster than you can possibly imagine.”
His eyes move to his daughter again. “I’m not so sure. Today has been a year long.”
Chuckling, I say, “My mom used to always say that the days are long, but the years are short.”
He nods, processing my words. “Never heard that.”
“Really? Your mom never said anything like that?”
Henley’s brows draw together, pain washing over his face, but the doorbell rings, snapping him out of it. Clearing his throat, he says, “That would be the pizza. My wallet is on the counter. Would you mind grabbing it for me?”
“Oh. Uh, sure.”
