our father was a bastard.”
“No,” she agreed, eyes so liquid and dark he had to look away. “Only...”
Don’t say it, he thought, giving all his attention to where Zephyr was now using his belly as a trampoline. Being able to see that a grown man ought to have more control over his actions than a little boy didn’t make him empathetic. Being happy his brother hadn’t been knocked around didn’t make him paternal. It was common decency, that’s all.
She came into his periphery, but only to stroke a soft hand over her son’s head.
“He’s having fun. Would it be an imposition to leave him with you while I do a bit more work, just while the other two are sleeping?”
An imposition? He was truly pathetic if that’s how she thought he regarded holding a happy baby.
“It’s fine,” he said, disgusted with himself for giving off such an impression, but having a child was still a shock. And he was still so worried about damaging him he preferred to keep her close. If she wasn’t hovering, how would he know he was doing everything right?
She must have read something in his tone. She glanced toward her laptop with indecision.
“Go ahead,” he insisted, refusing to be frightened of a kid who couldn’t even stand up on his own. “From what I’ve overheard, this place is still transitioning from good to excellent. You’re doing a stellar job in pushing them gently, by the way. Obviously in your element. They’re lucky to have you.”
She checked and looked back at him. “Do you mean that?”
“Of course. I’m not surprised, either. Your knack with this kind of work was obvious to me the first time we met.”
She cleared her throat. “Thank you. You’re not just anyone. You know what it takes, what the pressures are. Your saying that means a lot.” She gave a tiny sniff and wiped under one eye as she scooped up her laptop and moved into the bedroom.
Women. He’d like to see a male manager get all soupy from a pat on the back.
Of course, he was just as bad, still basking in her praise that he was giving his son some enjoyment. The boy had spring-loaded legs, seemingly incapable of tiring.
His son.
His chest walls gave an internal shudder as he faced a grinning countenance that seemed both foreign yet familiar. All the babies were crawling their way under his skin, but Zephyr was different. With the other two, it was easier to let himself develop some affection. There wasn’t the same depth of responsibility. He imagined he’d be a fallback for the rest of their lives, attached by bonds that nature cast like a spell for exactly this circumstance: to keep little ones alive if their primary caregiver was absent, but he wouldn’t have to worry about Evie and Androu 24/7 the way he’d worry about Zephyr.
He took a moment to examine that nagging, anxious sensation. For all his concern that he’d crush this boy’s confidence, the what-ifs about his future were worse. What if he was wet and this neighbor lady didn’t notice? What if Quentin talked Jaya into taking the boy to some third-world country with exotic parasites and deadly spiders? What if something happened to Jaya?
The way Zephyr chewed a finger and thumb while staring deeply into his eyes—much the same disconcerting way his mother had, as if he trusted him implicitly—was a heart punch. It was as if the little guy was already relying on Theo to make sure all the what-ifs were mitigated. Who else would do it? Theo had a lot of faults, but shirking responsibility was not one of them.
His guts wobbled, like he’d taken a misstep on a high wire.
No, he didn’t shirk responsibility. If Jaya had said that to him last night, rather than trying to prod him into admitting an emotional connection to the boy, she might have had him.
But who would look after Zephyr if something happened to Jaya? He’d seen what babies were like when Mama wasn’t near. They were distressed. He wouldn’t want Zephyr to go through that. Hell, he didn’t want to go through missing Jaya again and he was a full-grown man.
Swearing under his breath, he tried to take back that thought, but it was acknowledged now. Was that why he was stressing out about Zephyr’s future, he asked himself? Because the tyke was his best excuse to hang on to the mother?
No. He did not just see Zephyr as a means to an end. When he contemplated walking away from Jaya or Zephyr, everything in him went bleak and gray. His sense of responsibility toward the boy was quickly shifting beyond the desire to provide food and shelter. Quentin might be the better father figure, but Theo couldn’t shake Jaya’s comment that maybe he’d never developed any deep relationships because he didn’t cultivate them.
It wasn’t fair to Zephyr to not even try, was it?
Zephyr stopped bouncing and gave an exhausted sigh, like he’d finished chopping a cord of wood. Theo found himself grinning in amusement.
“Finally worn out?” He settled the boy against his chest where Zephyr let his head droop, fingers still in his mouth and eyelids heavy.
He wasn’t a man who cuddled, preferring his own space unless he was busy with a woman between the sheets, but there was an addictive quality to a baby’s snuggled warmth against his shoulder. It was a sense of all-powerfulness. Success at creating a moment of contentment for another human being. After a childhood of being found wanting, he wallowed in Zephyr’s unconditional appreciation of having his simplest needs met.
It’s just Mother Nature’s plan, he tried to dismiss, but a very tiny voice—feminine and lilting with an Indian accent—whispered that maybe it was a father’s nature to be happy when his child was happy.
Stunned, he swallowed a lump of emotion, hands cradling his son tenderly as the connection between them wound through him like a creeping vine, hooking into his vital organs in such a way there’d be damage to both of them if they were pulled apart.
Jaya’s quiet voice grew louder, speaking to Evie as she appeared with the girl. Her eyes went soft when she saw him holding Zephyr so close, making Theo feel as though he was out on that high wire again, a brisk gale cutting up the canyon toward him.
He lowered his gaze. This was too personal a moment to have even Jaya witness.
“Trade?” he asked in a voice like sandpaper, reluctant to let the boy go, but he was so shaken by his flood of primal instinct to protect and nurture, he let her steal the sleepy baby and tried to distract himself by coaxing a smile from Evie with a promise of a swim later.
It was soon back to chaos, Androu waking shortly after Evie and both of them hungry. He was washing mashed banana out of Androu’s hair, using the wet cloth to spike it into a Mohawk, wondering if he was getting the hang of this parenting thing after all, when a knock at the door interrupted them.
Jaya was in her room, answering emails while Zephyr napped in there with her. He sidled to the peephole and saw Nic, Rowan and Adara distorted by the fisheye lens.
Never one to appreciate unexpected visitors, he snapped open the door. “Why didn’t you call?”
“Are they okay? Where are they?” The women rushed past him like fans into a rock concert, invading his space.
Nic entered at a more laconic pace, scanning
