Her smile was tired and strained, but he caught a hint of the glow that had first washed over him all those months ago. She raised a hand, and for a second he let himself think it was the prelude to an awkward hug, a quick brush of her lips to his cheek or mouth, but no. She simply cupped his cheek and patted it. The way she would one of the kids in the day care she would return to directing once her maternity leave ended.
He hadn’t realized how much he’d been hoping she didn’t mean the whole platonic thing until that moment.
“Hi.” His voice sounded rough and strained to his own ears. Probably because he hadn’t said anything more than, “Coffee, please,” to anyone since leaving Ollanta yesterday. His hand hovered near the kicking, squirming pile of frantic that was Jamie. Would it make things worse if Boone touched him? All the books he’d read about babies assured him that they needed and were soothed by touch, but there was a hell of a difference between theory and practice.
“Sorry about the warm greeting.” Kate rolled her eyes. “We had a bad night. I think he’s cutting his first tooth.”
A memory surfaced from when he’d lived with... Was it his aunt Carol? No, it might have been one of his foster mothers. Gayle? She had been one of the younger ones. There had been a baby. There had been teething. There had been cold canned spaghetti and meatballs for dinner and lunch.
He had thought he couldn’t admire Kate more than he already did. He’d been wrong.
“Let’s get your bags before he breaks everyone’s eardrums,” she said, and headed for the escalator. Boone hurried behind her, glad to be upright and stretching his legs again. Once they reached the main floor, he aimed for the baggage carousel but stopped when he felt a tug on his sleeve.
“You get your things,” she said over the baby’s cries. “I’ll take him outside. The change of scenery might calm him down a bit. I’ll meet you right by the door.”
Before he could answer, she zipped away. The usual airport cacophony sounded almost peaceful once the doors slid closed behind her.
He’d spent much of his travel time assuring himself that he was ready for this. He felt like every moment of the last few months that hadn’t been devoted to work had been spent teaching himself how to be a father. He’d read everything about childcare that he could get his hands on. He’d played with the kids who came to the Project Sonqo office with their parents, perfecting his peekaboo skills. He’d even worked up the nerve to visit some websites for people who had grown up the way he had but who wanted to break that cycle with their own kids.
It had all seemed so possible when he was in Peru. So manageable. Now, with the echo of Jamie’s cries rattling inside him, he had to work hard to convince himself this was a good idea.
Ten minutes later, his ancient suitcase rolling crookedly behind him, Boone exited the terminal into the welcome coolness of early spring. Not that Ollanta had been hot. In the mountains, it rarely grew more than pleasantly warm. But after four flights’ worth of stale air, it felt good to breathe deep and not get a lungful of other people.
Kate waited by a bench. She was doing that bouncing jiggly thing again. Jamie had stopped crying, at least loudly, but as Boone approached he could see that the wriggling hadn’t slowed.
“Is he really chewing on his hand?” he asked.
“Yep. He’s hungry.” She set off across the parking lot at such a brisk speed that he was glad his legs were long enough to keep up. No cramped-plane stiffness for her. They hustled in silence—well, silent other than the snuffling noises coming from the baby—until they reached the little red Mazda he recognized.
Kate hit the button to unlock the doors and pop the trunk, then handed the keys to Boone. “Go ahead and stow your stuff. Then maybe you could start the car so it can warm up a bit? I need to hang out in the back seat with little Mr. Piggy for a few minutes.”
“Sure.” Good God. People always talked about culture shock when traveling from one country to another. No one had ever warned him that parenthood was the biggest culture shock he would ever know, but so far that was the case.
And he’d been here only fifteen minutes.
Once he’d deposited his things and got the car started, he screwed up his courage and twisted in the driver’s seat to take in the scene behind him. Kate had tossed her coat across the car seat. He had a great view of her pink sweater and the snorting, squirming baby in her arms.
“Doesn’t he ever stop moving?” Even as Boone spoke, that hypnotic foot started thrusting rhythmically once more.
“Sure. When he’s asleep.”
Jamie made a strange sound, like a cry mixed with a snort, then seemed to attack. Kate winced.
“Whoa. Are you okay?” Boone hadn’t expected that. Kate had nursed the baby many times when they were Skyping, but again, yeah. Different continent, whole different experience.
“Like I said, he’s cutting a tooth. His mouth hurts. When he nurses, that increases the pressure, so it hurts him more. So he stops earlier, but then he’s still hungry, so he has to eat again sooner than he usually would.” She brushed Jamie’s cheek with her finger. “Plus he’s kind of stuffed up, which often happens when they’re teething, so it’s hard for him to breathe and eat at the same time.”
How the hell did anyone ever make it past infancy?
“So.” She smiled, though with a little more force than he had ever seen before. “How were your flights?”
“I survived.”
“I see that.” The corners of her mouth twitched. Some of the stiffness seemed to be fading. “What do you need most? Shower, food or sleep?”
You.
He pushed the thought away before it could show in his face. Platonic. Separate bedrooms. All for the best.
He got it. He really did. But it had been a lot easier to agree when she wasn’t sitting a few inches away from him with Jamie weaving tiny fingers through her hair and her sweater hiked up so that everything essential was hidden from his eyes but most definitely not from his memory.
He stared down at his fingers, pretending he was inspecting them for grime. “A shower would probably be a good idea. It would help me stay awake, too.” He smiled and risked a glance her way. “But after that, yeah. Something other than airline food would be great.”
“Good. We can take care of all of that once Little Mister here decides he’s done.” As she spoke, she did a complicated maneuver with her hand and the baby’s face that looked as smooth and practiced as a magician’s performance. He wasn’t sure precisely what was happening. One minute everyone was happy. The next, Jamie was crying and she was tugging her sweater down, and he was pretty sure he’d glimpsed something he shouldn’t be glimpsing if he wanted to get through these next weeks with any semblance of sanity.
“Burp time,” she sang out, undoubtedly for his benefit. She glanced from Jamie to him. “You want to try?”
He froze. “That... I mean, uh...”
“Don’t freak, Boone.” Another hint of the laughing woman he remembered peeked around the fatigue. “I’m just messing with you. No one’s first time holding their
