In addition to his regular development business, he’d started to help Claire with the houses she flipped on the side—mostly to keep her from working herself to death. The house on Langston was a single-family Victorian in what was turning into a good neighborhood. It should turn a decent profit if they ever managed to get it finished. He felt a little stupid for underestimating how much time a baby would take and how hard it would be for him to leave her every day, but there was nothing to do about that now. He’d get them out of the project as quickly as possible and talk to Claire before they took on anything else.
“I don’t want somebody else raising our daughter.”
He froze mid-bounce, watching her carefully. “What are you saying, sweetheart? Do you want to stop working?” He’d be okay with whatever she decided, but he couldn’t help the thin thread of fear that wove through him at the idea of Claire giving up everything to stay home with their baby. Being stuck at home with him was what finally drove his mother off and his father into a bottle. It was hard for him to picture it any other way, but for his wife and daughter, he’d try.
“No, but I hate myself for it. I shouldn’t need so much help taking care of a baby. My mother did it without nurses or babysitters or any help at all. I don’t have to clean or even cook if I don’t want to. Esmerelda takes care of all of that, and I’m still falling apart.”
“There’s nothing wrong with wanting your career, Claire. You worked hard for it. That doesn’t make you a bad mother. Bella’s going to be happier if you’re happy.” He laced his words with a conviction he didn’t have to exaggerate. It wasn’t fair for her to have to choose between work and a family. No one expected him to do it. She shrugged and he could tell she wasn’t buying it.
“I’ll take her. She’s going to ruin your suit.”
He glanced at his drool-covered shoulder and momentarily quiet daughter.
“Is she hungry?” He shifted the baby in his arms. Faced with the loss of his shoulder, Bella reached for his hand, grabbing his finger and dragging it to her mouth.
“I’ve tried nursing her, but she loses interest. Hand her to me. I can try again,” she said, sounding worn-out.
“Wait a minute. She seems happy for now.” He took a chance and sat on the sofa beside Claire. They both let out a sigh when the baby in his arms didn’t protest. Instead, she shoved his knuckle into her gummy little mouth and chomped down. “Is there a chance she could be teething?”
Claire’s forehead wrinkled and then her eyes went wide. “I didn’t even think of that. It’s a little early, but it makes perfect sense. That’s why she didn’t want to nurse. It must hurt her gums. Poor baby.”
“It’s not a problem, is it? Her getting her teeth early?”
“No,” she said, reaching out to run a reassuring hand along his jaw.
She might feel like she was falling apart, but she was always a rock for him. Every new milestone made him nervous. It wasn’t a feeling he was used to or dealt well with, but nothing had ever mattered as much to him as the woman beside him and the baby in his arms.
“I think it’s hereditary. I can’t ask either of our mothers to be sure, but I imagine at least one of us must have teethed early. Probably you,” she said, taking some of the sting out of the statement.
He’d never really known his mother. She bailed on him and his father when he was just a kid and he’d been disinclined to let her back into his life. But Claire’s mother had been her world until she passed and he knew she missed her every day. Having a baby made the loss that much more real. Their little girl would grow up with everything she could possibly want except a grandmother to love her. Not being able to ask her mother when she’d started teething or for other advice was just one of the things Claire lost when her mother died and Alzheimer’s stole her father’s mind.
“Do we have to take her to the doctor or something?”
He hated not knowing. He’d spent his life and made his fortune by being the best informed person in any room or working his ass off until he was. The baby thing was so outside the realm of what he knew; it knocked him off his game.
“No, she should be fine. Just uncomfortable for a while and it means she can eat new kinds of food.” The worry and lost look was gone from Claire’s face. She was back to being calm and in control. “Hold on for a second. I think I’ve got something that might help.”
Luke watched his daughter happily gnawing on his knuckle, the drool running down his hand and over her tiny chin. If anyone told him a year ago that this was how he’d be spending his time, he’d have told them they were crazy. He’d gone from arrogant bastard and playboy billionaire so fast, the people he used to know wouldn’t recognize him. From the moment he met Claire, he’d wanted her and from the first time he’d had her, he knew he’d never get enough.
That hadn’t changed. Becoming his wife and the mother of his child only made him want her more. He just had to figure out a way to take some of the pressure off her so they could find some time for each other. He tried to help out as much as he could, but with Claire nursing, she’d insisted on doing almost everything herself. He missed their time alone together, but there was no way he’d add even more pressure to his already over-scheduled wife.
Claire passed them both on her way to the kitchen and Bella followed her with her eyes, never slacking up on his finger. These two females owned him as surely as if they’d bought and paid for him. And he wouldn’t have it any other way.
“Here, give her this.” Claire handed him what looked like a mesh-covered Popsicle.
“What is it?” he asked, gently extricating his soggy finger from his daughter’s mouth.
“Cantaloupe. The mesh keeps her from getting pieces that are too big and the cold is supposed to help soothe her gums.”
Eyeing the lumpy thing warily, he handed it to his daughter, who immediately stuck it in her mouth and started to go to town on it, drooling happily as she chomped away.
“Is that better, sweet baby?” Claire leaned over him to wipe their daughter’s face with a soft cloth.
This close, it was impossible to miss the dark shadows under his wife’s beautiful eyes. Despite the baby nurse’s rigid schedule, Bella rarely slept through the night. He woke up when she did, but it was Claire who got up to feed their daughter. She carried much more of the load. He refused to think of his daughter as a burden, but he couldn’t deny the toll the lack of sleep took on her mother.
“Is it time to start thinking about weaning her?” he asked, realizing too late the landmine he’d stepped on.
Claire went still. “Why would you ask that?”
