swayed when he reached for the dark roast blend, grimacing as the world tilted on its axis and he nearly lost whatever was souring his stomach. That would not go over well, he thought with dark humor. “Anything for your friend?” he asked, once he’d finally noticed the petite blonde standing beside his mother.
The woman shook her head and, following Mary’s lead, gingerly took a seat on the sofa where previously Sammy had crashed for the night, too drunk to even make it down the short hallway to his bed.
Sammy could hear murmured conversation between the two as he filled the coffeemaker and set it to brew. He wondered why he’d agreed to this meeting. Right now he was just wishing they’d go away so he could return to that blissful sleep of the inebriated. But, as he returned with two full mugs, one for his mom and one for himself, he knew the chances of that happening were slim to none.
This was an intervention Mary Halvorsen-style, and it would take more than his discomfort to sway her from her mission.
“Maybe we should come back another time,” the woman suggested, as if reading Sammy’s mind. He lifted his mug to her and cracked a grin but it must’ve come out looking more like a grimace, for she didn’t respond favorably. “You don’t seem…well.”
“He’s hungover,” Mary said before Sammy could answer, and he frowned. “Too bad for him, I say. I didn’t rearrange my schedule to accommodate this meeting just to reschedule because my son doesn’t have a lick of sense in his fool head these days.” She speared Sammy with a short look as she asked pointedly, “Where’s Ian?”
At the mention of his son’s name, Sammy took another bracing sip of his coffee and zeroed in on a dust bunny on the floor. “With Annabelle and Dean. I forgot about today. I needed to go out last night.”
“What you need is a nanny. Someone who can help you take care of Ian. It’s not fair to Dean and Annabelle to keep shouldering your responsibility when they have a little one of their own. This has gone on long enough, Samuel.”
Sammy couldn’t respond to that. He knew she was right, but inside his chest was a useless shell where his heart used to be, and he had nothing left for his young son. It hurt just to look at the kid. If it hadn’t been for him, Dana would still be here. Sammy blinked back the wave of shame that followed and finished his coffee in two scalding swallows.
“What’s your name?” he asked the woman.
“Aubrey…Aubrey Rose. I just want to say that I’m so sorry for your I—”
“You know much about kids?”
She started at the interruption. “Well, I was an au pair during college and I did a lot of babysitting when I was a kid.”
“What the hell is an au pair?”
“It’s another word for nanny, used mostly in Europe. I spent a year in Italy…. Anyway, yes, to answer your question I have some experience. I’m also CPR and first aid trained.”
“See?” Mary said. “Perfect. More than perfect. And she can start immediately.”
Sammy glanced away. Not perfect. Everything was far from perfect but who was he to belabor the point? It didn’t much matter either way.
He gestured to his mom. “How do you two know each other?”
“We met at the Quilters Brigade,” Mary answered. “And before you open your mouth to say some kind of joke, let me spare you the effort. I am not in a joking sort of mood.”
“Jeez, Ma, lighten up. You’ll scare the young folk,” he said, his mouth curving in a tired grin, but he dropped it quickly enough when his mother’s stare narrowed. She wasn’t kidding. “So the Quilters Brigade…”
Aubrey shrugged. “It’s a relaxing hobby and I usually donate the piece when I’m finished.”
“Not from around here, I take it?”
“No. I’m a transplant, as Mary calls it.”
“Yeah,” he said, trying hard not to remember that Dana had been an outsider, too. He swallowed and looked away. “I guess you’ll do well enough. Hell, I don’t know the first thing about babies so you’re already more qualified than me to take care of him.” And that fact sliced him to the bone every single day.
AUBREY SHOULD’VE KNOWN this wasn’t going to work out. What had she been thinking? She slanted a look at Mary, realizing that the older woman hadn’t been entirely honest about her son’s situation. This was more than a widower needing help with his infant son. This man was a train wreck. And she wasn’t interested in hitching a ride. She had enough baggage to sink the Titanic. She didn’t need this guy’s, as well.
Aubrey gathered her purse, ready to leave when the front door opened and a curvy redhead walked in cradling a bundle against her shoulder. “Sorry, Sammy, but something came up and I had to bring Ian home. I know you said you’d come by later but…Oh! I’m interrupting. Mary said you were interviewing a nanny. I’m so sorry. You must be Aubrey?”
Aubrey nodded and the woman continued in a rush, gently dropping a full diaper bag to the floor and bringing the baby to his father, which by the expression on his face was about as pleasurable as having a nail pounded into his foot. He held the child awkwardly, almost away from his body so as to limit contact, and was quick to hand the child to his grandmother, who immediately started snuggling the boy. “I’m Annabelle,” she said. “Nice to meet you. You’re going to love Ian. He’s the sweetest baby. Mary, I’ll see you later?”
“Eight o’clock. Bring Jasmine. I haven’t had my granddaughter fix in two days.”
“Will do. Oh, one more thing, there are a few preprepared bottles in the diaper bag that need to go into the fridge right away. Okay, bye!”
In a blink, Annabelle was gone again but Sammy had hardly registered her presence after she’d put the baby in his arms.
Even as Mary continued to lavish the child with whispered endearments, Aubrey caught a look so full of anguish in Sammy’s eyes that for a moment her own heart spasmed. But it was gone in an instant, replaced by that dull, empty stare that said I care about nothing and no one so don’t even try, and Aubrey knew taking this job would be a mistake.
She opened her mouth with the intent to decline but Mary took that moment to place the baby in her arms. As Aubrey held that soft body she felt an echo of an old pain that never truly healed no matter how many years she put between it and herself. Babies. She loved them. Truly and deeply. All sorts, all kinds. They were her Achilles’ heel. And it was the cruelest of ironies that she would never bear one.
“Aubrey, meet Ian Samuel Halvorsen. Isn’t he a doll?”
Aubrey nodded. About that part, Mary hadn’t lied. This child was beautiful with a full head of dark hair, porcelain skin and a rosebud mouth that was nearly too pretty for a boy. In fact, if he hadn’t been decked out in a sleeper with airplanes on it and gripping a blue blanket it might’ve been hard to tell his gender. But then again, babies at this age were sometimes hard to tell anyway. She couldn’t resist bending down to inhale that sweet intoxicating baby scent and knew even as she did so, walking away was going to be difficult.
“He’s beautiful,” Aubrey said softly, a slow but reluctant
