Patchwork Paradise(45)

“I asked her to stay awhile,” I told him as my mom made embarrassing noises over the baby. He instantly stopped crying. “I hope that’s okay?”

“Okay?” Thomas said, shaking his head like he was trying to dislodge the echoes of the baby’s cries. “You’re brilliant.”

I opened my mouth to say something, caught sight of my mom, and closed it again. After a second I asked, “Are you crying?”

“No,” she sniffed. “Yes. Okay? I never thought I’d have grandbabies. Look how precious he is. What’s his name?”

“Mom, he’s not actually your grandb—” Thomas elbowed me, so I shut up.

“His name is Milo.”

“Oh, I love that. Will he have your last name?”

“Yes.” Thomas’s cheeks stained a dull red. “Liesbeth gave him my last name.”

Mom smiled. “Milo de Ridder. It’s so nice to meet you. I bet you’re hungry huh, little sweetheart?” Without missing a beat she took the diaper bag off Thomas and disappeared into the living room. Easy, like she’d done it all before.

“I love your mother,” Thomas whispered, and I laughed.

“Come on, let’s get you settled in. Then you should probably take a nap. You look like death. Do you have any more stuff in your car?”

“What do you think?”

“Okay, fine, let’s go get it.”

We dragged his bags into the house and listened, but the house was silent. I assumed that meant happy baby.

“I picked him up last night. I didn’t get any sleep at all. How do people do this?” He gave me a horrified look. “And more than once. Voluntarily.”

“I’m sure it’s not that bad,” I said soothingly and led him up the marble stairs. We’d given Milo the room at the end of the hallway to the left on the first floor. Mom would sleep in the room opposite, Thomas would have the room beside Milo’s, and my room was on the right side of the stairs. Farthest away from any crying, I thought, but had the grace not to mention it to anyone.

“I really appreciate this,” Thomas said when I showed him his room. “I don’t know how to repay you.”

“Don’t worry about it.” I dumped one of his bags on the bed. All the others had some kind of zoo animal on them, so I guessed they weren’t his.

His face crinkled. “But I do worry about it. I can’t accept this from you and not do anything in return.”

“Thomas, if the situation were reversed, would you leave me stranded?”

“No, of course not. But you’d insist on paying half the bills and groceries and whatever.”

I rolled my eyes and took a bag with a smiling giraffe off of him. “We can sort that out later.” He was gritting his teeth, so I offered him my sweetest smile. “Let’s wait until the bills come, and then decide. For now, relax and enjoy your baby, dude.” I froze in the hallway. “Oh my God, you have a baby.”

He still had that wide-eyed terrified appearance to him, but a slight, wondrous smile tugged at his mouth. “Yeah. I’m a dad.”

I laughed and dragged him toward Milo’s room. “Here, what do you think?” I threw open the door and stepped aside.

“Oh wow.”

My mother had found my small rocking crib in her garage, and she’d given it a good scrub. It was old but sturdy, and pretty in off-white with a fresh blue sheet. “She says it won’t last him much beyond six months. Less if he’s a big baby, but for now—”

“It’s perfect.” He looked around the rest of the room: the cleared dresser at waist height, perfect for diaper changes; the sea life decals I’d stuck to the walls to distract Milo from what I was sure would be unpleasant things to do with diaper cream. The newly made queen bed with soft linens. Mom had even found a comfortably cushioned rocking chair, goodness knew where.

“The bed’s in case you want to stay in this room,” I told him a little sheepishly. “I can imagine you won’t want to leave him alone all night at first.”

“No.” Thomas turned around, and I saw a flicker of that confidence I liked so much return in his gaze. He was a big guy, with broad shoulders and strong hands. I hated seeing him down. It was good to notice the real Thomas returning. All he said was, “Thank you,” and for some reason it made me want to jump his bones. Which, with my own baby crib in the room, was all kinds of wrong.

“All right.” Mom burst in, and we both startled. “Time for you two to do some bonding. Take off your shirt.”

“What?” I squeaked.

She tutted at me. “Not you. Thomas and Milo. Babies are very tactile, and he needs to learn the scent of his daddy. I gave him a bottle and changed his diaper, and he’s about a second away from dozing off. So take off your shirt, lie down, and you can snuggle with your son.”

“Okay,” Thomas said, looking wide-eyed but determined. “But what if I fall asleep? Won’t I roll over and squash him?”

“You’ll sleep very lightly if you do doze off. If it makes you feel better, Oliver or I can keep you company.”

Thomas threw me a look I interpreted as “Please don’t leave me half-naked in a bedroom with your mom.”

I sighed, resigned, as Thomas unbuttoned his shirt. If having bad thoughts with a crib in the room was wrong, having vague boner-like feelings with a baby nearby would send me straight to hell.