“Lily’s mattress is too high. That’s why she was able to climb up. The height of the bed should be lowered. Or there are sleep snugglers, which help keep the baby secure in this little wrap-like thing. It’s almost a sleeping bag, but they don’t mind it. That way she can’t just decide to climb whenever she wants.”
Utter silence met my unsolicited advice. I couldn’t say I was surprised.
“For someone who doesn’t want to take care of anyone else, you’re full of suggestions.”
“It was an issue with one of my sisters too. That was a lifetime ago, but she was always trying to escape. My mom had to get creative.”
“Hmm.”
When it became clear he wasn’t going to say anything else on the matter, I stepped forward to give him back his daughter. If it physically hurt to surrender her, I chalked it up to some kind of weird hormonal imbalance. Damn PMS.
Even if my period had been a no-show so far this month. It had to arrive eventually. Maybe that was why my symptoms were worse than usual.
But instead of accepting Lily graciously, he laid his hand on my arm. She looked back and forth between us, her tiny rosebud-pink lips pursed.
My heartbeat kicked into gear, and I had the most irrational urge to laugh.
I don’t know what’s going on either, kid.
“You really didn’t know she was my grandmother.” Though his voice was so low I had to lean forward to hear it, his expression was fierce.
“No. How could I have? I didn’t know you had…this.” I indicated the baby in my arms with my chin. “I also didn’t know your last name. Wainwright.” My brain finally clicked into gear, and my eyes flew wide. “Not the Wainwrights. The mogul? Bess said you managed the newspaper—”
I stopped at his laughter and shook off his hand. “Why are you laughing at me?”
Bess had said that, hadn’t she? Or some variation therein.
“I’m not laughing at you. Exactly. Just an ironic choice of words.” He nodded at his daughter, but he made no move to accept her. “You look good holding her. Far better than I do.”
I frowned. The vibes I was getting from him regarding Lily weren’t exactly making me want to dump her off on him and run. Exactly the opposite.
He seemed uneasy around her. His own child. How could that be? I mean, Bess had made it clear that her “Snug”—a more unlikely nickname I’d never heard before—was in desperate need of a nanny, but she hadn’t indicated he was incapable.
But that seemed wrong too. Somehow Asher Wainwright didn’t seem like the sort of man who ever faltered.
Yet here he was, faltering.
Unless his behavior was due to something even more sinister. Maybe he wasn’t uncomfortable around Lily. Maybe he didn’t love her as a father should.
Surely he didn’t blame her for the loss of her mother?
Almost unconsciously, I drew her back against my chest to nuzzle the top of her head. She was so small and alone. So utterly helpless. She wasn’t responsible for anything, least of all something so tragic.
“See.” His voice sounded rough now, almost like sandpaper. “It’s as if she belongs in your arms.”
“Because I’m a female? That’s my job, right? To nurture and care and clean.” Even as I said the words, the leading edge of my irritation faded as I looked down into her face. She was smiling up at me, I would’ve sworn it.
It was probably due to gas or who knows what else. I didn’t care. Her smile warmed me with a soft, happy glow.
When Asher didn’t respond, I spoke to the baby instead.
“Guess you don’t mind me holding you, even if you probably don’t remember me from the other day. But we made fast friends then, didn’t we? Remember Latte?”
“Latte.” Asher’s voice didn’t sound any less gruff. In fact, it was even more so.
What kind of heartless man could be bothered by someone doting on his baby girl? A baby I was beginning to think desperately needed it. At least she had her great-grandmother.
Thank God for Bess.