“I’m going to put him to bed. We’ve a long day ahead of us tomorrow.”
THE FOLLOWING AFTERNOON he was waiting in Central Park, standing at the duck pond and watching the children throwing bread. Hanna and Matty were due to meet him at 1:00 p.m., but it was already quarter past. He was starting to worry.
Somebody threw something heavy in the pond, and the large splash startled the birds, causing them to flap their wings and skim the water in their haste to escape. Richard craned his head, spotting a group of teenagers standing across the water from him, laughing uproariously at their own foolish actions.
“I’m so sorry we’re late.” Her voice was thick, her eyes rimmed with red. Matty ran toward him and grabbed his suited legs, sticky fingers pulling at the worsted fabric.
“How did it go?” He didn’t need to ask. Her expression said it all.
“My dad was difficult. Told me I was just like my no-good mother. Then he called Olivia who shouted down the phone, and I could hear her say Matty would be better off if we had him adopted.” She was staring at the ground, her fingers twisting at her bracelet. He wanted to reach out and calm her movements.
“I should have gone with you. I wanted to.” He was going to do it; he needed to—for her sake as well as his. Stepping forward, he squared his shoulders, one hand reaching out to touch her arm. She glanced up at him, eyes shiny, opening her mouth to say words that came out silent.
The next moment she was in his arms, her slim frame enveloped by his. Richard hesitated momentarily, trying to work out where best to put his hands, before placing them in the middle of her back, rubbing her through the thin material of her dress.
“I’m so sorry she said that,” he murmured. “You know she’s wrong, though. Matty’s been the best thing that happened to both of us in a long time.”
“He said he didn’t know me.” She sobbed into his shirt. “That he didn’t want to know me. I know I lied to him by omission, but he was so cruel.” She lifted a hand from his arm and wiped her face, dark smudges of mascara smearing across her finger. “He reacted so much worse than you did, and you had so much more to blame me for.”
“I’ve got so much more to thank you for, too.” Richard scooped Matty up in his arms, and the three of them held each other like a real family. He wanted to close his eyes and inhale the aroma of happiness. “We still have a way to go before we sort everything out, but at least we’re both willing to try.”
They walked over to a bench, and he watched the way the muscles in her calves flexed with her movement. In the week since they’d been back in New York, she had caught the sun from spending her days with Matty in the park, showing him the animals and letting him run free across the grass.
In the evenings, he’d come home to his apartment with a heart so full it was almost painful. To see Hanna standing in the kitchen, preparing Matty’s tea, cut him to the core. It was such a pleasant burn. He had to question himself; was he still attracted to her for who she was, or was he just wanting the perfect family unit? The way his body stirred whenever she bent over or leaned down so that the smallest swell of breast was showing told him it was the former.
She was busy pulling Matty’s lunch from her oversized bag, scrabbling around for her baby wipes and a bib. Matty leaned back on the bench, swinging his legs back and forth, and singing to himself using made-up words.
“Did your dad even look at Matty?” Richard knew he was pulling at scabs, but found it hard to believe Philip would reject his own flesh and blood. It reminded him of a harsher, more painful confrontation he needed to have with his own mother. One he was putting off.
“Just a glance when Matty pulled some papers off his desk. Then he huffed and picked them up, telling me the office was no place for a child.” She ripped the foil from the yogurt pot, dipping the spoon in before raising it to Matty’s mouth.
“Maybe you need to give him time. He’s had a lot to take in.” He suppressed a smile, aware his words referred to himself as much as Philip Vincent.
“
I’ll let him call me when he’s ready; if he’s ever ready.” Hanna plucked a wipe and smeared it across Matty’s face. He scrunched up his nose in protest, twisting his head to evade the cloth. She tickled him under the chin, enough to make him giggle, and then lunged forward, catching the yogurt before it dribbled from his mouth. Her expression of victory was enough to make Richard grin, and she turned to catch his eye, her own smile brightening her features.
“What?” she asked.
“You were looking so pleased with yourself,” he replied. “Like catching a bit of yogurt was tantamount to winning a Pulitzer or something.”
“If you had to do as much laundry as I have, every dollop on a baby wipe is a major win.” She leaned forward and rubbed the wipe on Richard’s face, the sweet aroma of the cloth invading his senses.
“Hey! I haven’t eaten any yogurt today.” He grinned, leaning forward to pick out another wipe. “If anybody needs cleaning up, it’s you.” She tried to scoot away, wriggling her behind along the bench. Richard mirrored her every move, following her like a stalking lion. He was inches away from her face, and he watched her expression change as she looked up at him, her breath hitching at his proximity.
Her tongue darted out, moistening her lips, and a high color appeared on the apples of her cheeks. From the corner of his eye he could see Matty still swinging his legs, slowly eating a banana while he stared at the birds swooping down from the trees.
Richard leaned forward, dragging the wipe against Hanna’s skin, cleaning away the mascara smudges that had gathered from crying over her father. Their gazes locked, blocking the rest of the world out. Their laughter faded beneath the intensity of their connection, lips loosening and dropping until it was replaced by need.
“Your skin is perfect,” he whispered, his fingers dragging along her cheekbones, his attempts at cleaning her face abandoned. “I’d forgotten how soft it was.”
Hanna swallowed as he continued to caress. She reached out and put her hand under his jacket, sliding it against his waist. His thin cotton shirt did nothing to dull the sensation of her touch. He wanted to pull it out from his waistband and push her hand inside, encourage it up until her palm rubbed against his bare chest. It wasn’t enough just to look at her anymore. He needed to feel.
“Will you have dinner with me tonight?” The words escaped his lips in a rush. Hanna’s brows dipped in confusion, her hand gently squeezing his waist.
“What about Matty? I can’t leave him with a babysitter, not yet.”
She hadn’t said no. It made him smile.