Page 76 of The Baby-whisperer and the Brute
A hollow ache filled my chest and stomach. For a fleeting moment, I allowed myself to wish things were different, that I was just a regular guy with a normal job, that I’d met her in a normal way.
I cut the unproductive thought off at the root. Wishing didn’t make things come true, it only made you miserable.
“You girls are going to have thebestschool year in New York,” Angelina said, wearing a wobbly smile. “I just know it. And you’re going to make so many new friends and have so many adventures in Manhattan.”
“I don’t want to go to New York,” Claire whined as she clung to Angelina’s neck.
“Me either,” Skyla said, sounding less whiny and angrier. “I want to stayhereand have adventures here—withyou. My heart can’t be happy without you.”
I know how you feel kiddo.
Carefully peeling Claire from her body, Angelina rose to standing. Her face was red, and she was swallowing repeatedly, clearly fending off sobs.
I felt my own throat go sore as if I’d swallowed a large, spiky ball.
“You’ll come back to Eastport Bay soon to visit your daddy,” she said with forced brightness. “And you’ll have lots more wonderful times here with Daddy in your home.”
The silent implication—thatshewouldn’t be there—screamed in my mind. I was no fortune teller, but it wasn’t hard to predict the place wouldn’t feel nearly so much like a home without her.
Don’t think about it. Do what has to be done.
I stepped forward, picking up the girls’ suitcases. “Okay, everyone in the car. Do you have everything you want with you for the ride?”
Instead of answering me, both girls started crying. Angelina took each of their hands and led the way out of the house, opening the car’s back door and fastening my daughters securely into their booster seats where she gave them each one last hug and kiss.
Up to this point, I had avoided meeting her gaze. I’d stormed out of the laundry room last night and hadn’t emerged from my suite until about ten minutes ago. But after shutting the car door, I allowed myself to turn and look down directly into Angelina’s beautiful brown eyes.
They shimmered with unshed tears, and the armor I’d spent the night forging around my heart cracked a little.
She swallowed again. “Thank you. For everything… giving me a place to stay, for being so generous… especially for allowing me to be a part of Skyla’s and Claire’s lives. They’re amazing little girls. And you’re a good father—never doubt it.”
My conscience shouted at me. If I were actually a good father, I’d never take my daughters away from this good woman’s influence and leave them with their aloof, disinterested mother. Maybe if the girls were with me full time, Angelina would have stayed.
Out of obligation of course. Tothem.
I would have settled for it.
At least it would have given me more time to break through her resistance and show her what a mistake she was making.
But what could I do? Anoukwastheir mother, the girls were going back to her, and Angelina’s mind was made up. She was determined to leave me, and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it.
“Thankyou,” I said, my voice coming out like a handful of gravel.
Some of the emotion I’d successfully repressed as we loaded the car and got the girls ready to go was beginning to leak out around the edges of my self-restraint.
“You’ve been… good for them.”
And that was about all I could say without losing total control and turning this into a sonnet about how much she’d changedallof our lives then dropping to my knees and begging her to stay.
She nodded, her lips pressed tightly together. “Good luck on Friday,” she whispered. “I’ll be praying for you.”
Then she turned and went back into the house.
I watched until the door closed behind her, walked around to the driver’s side of my car, and climbed inside.
Then I cinched the emotional tourniquet back in place and drove away from the greatest source of happiness I’d ever known.
Chapter Twenty-Six
