“What’s going on?”
Aria whirled, the hand with the hammer ready to strike. “Don’t sneak up on me.”
“I called for you.” I walked into the room as her arm dropped to her side. But the look of fury on her face didn’t fade.
“You ordered a cradle?” She pointed the tool at the crate where the soft wooden edge of the cradle peeked out from the packing paper straws.
“Yes.”
“And what’s in that one?” She glared at the crate in the corner.
“A rocking chair.”
Aria’s nostrils flared. “You didn’t think I’d want to have some input?”
“No.” Shit. “I figured if you didn’t like them, we could send them back and get something else.”
“When did you order them?”
“Months ago. They were both custom-made and I knew it would take time.”
She crossed her arms, her grip on both tools tightening. “And what about the nanny? I got home from work and Ron was escorting his top candidate out. He wanted to make sure I could meet her before he gave you the final recommendation.”
My stomach dropped. This wasn’t about the cradle or the chair. This was about the nanny. “It’s just an idea.”
“A nanny? You think I want a nanny?”
“Well . . . yes.”
She threw the tools to the floor of the crate with a clank and thud. “Stop doing this.”
“I’m trying to help.”
“You’re not helping!” The flush rose in her cheeks.
“Aria, this isn’t a big deal. Calm down.”
“Calm down? No. And this is a big deal.” She shook her head. “First it’s the car. Then it’s the cradle. Then it’s the nanny. You make these decisions, these important decisions, without talking to me.”
Christ. “I’m sorry.”
“Then stop doing it.” Her shoulders fell. “Don’t make decisions for me. Ask me. Share with me. Talk to me.”
“Like you talk to me?”
“I talk to you.” She planted her hands on her hips. It was then that I noticed her feet were bare amidst wood splinters and metal staples.
I shook my head and turned, stalking away. Knowing she’d follow because Aria didn’t let battles go unfought.
She caught up to me in my bedroom, where I was stowing my cufflinks.
“What was that supposed to mean?” she snapped.
I didn’t answer.
Instead, I went to work on my shirt’s buttons, stripping it off and tossing it in the hamper. Then I pulled a black T-shirt from a drawer and tugged it on. My slacks got traded for the jeans Aria loved so much. And I put on some tennis shoes so I could wade into the mess she’d made in the nursery because she was pissed.
Well, I was pissed too. More than I’d realized.
I was trying to help. Maybe I’d fucked it up. I should have told her about the nanny but I hadn’t expected Ron to work so quickly. I certainly hadn’t expected him to have an interviewee here at the house.
Why couldn’t Aria give me a little credit? And a little slack? I was trying to make her life easier. Why wouldn’t she let me?
None of those thoughts were voiced. They stayed trapped in my head as I stalked back to the nursery.
Aria followed, silently fuming. She leaned against the doorjamb as I took the cradle from the box, then unpacked the rocking chair. And once they were out of the way, I went about cleaning up the mess on the floor.
She didn’t say a word. Neither did I.
Aria stared. I worked.
Carrying the last piece of the dismantled crates to the garage, I returned to the nursery to find Aria gone. Along with the cradle.
“Damn it, woman.” I marched out of the nursery and to her bedroom.
She’d dragged the cradle to the foot of the bed where she sat, rocking it gently.
The cradle was wooden with sleek lines, simple but stylish. I thought she’d be proud that I’d picked something in a warm shade, especially when white and gray had been options.
“This is pretty,” she whispered.
“If you want something else, we can get something else.”
She shook her head and looked up to meet my gaze. All of the anger she’d been wearing earlier had disappeared. Somewhere during my trips to and from the garage, the fight had gone out of her.
I realized as I crossed the room to sit beside her that my anger had deflated too. “I’m sorry. I said it earlier. I meant it.”
“I know. You don’t say things you don’t mean.” She leaned into my side, her hair tickling my bare forearm. “I don’t want a nanny. I want to be the one to change diapers and puree baby food and get up in the middle of the night.”
“Are you sure?”
She nodded. “No nanny. I’m going to be selfish and keep all of my baby’s moments for myself.”
“Just share some with me, okay?”
“You can have the poopy diapers.”
I chuckled. “So generous.”
“And I want a will. I want one ready the day he or she is born. If something happens to us, no matter what, Clara gets custody.”
My insides clenched. Just the idea that she—we—might not be there to see our child grow up made me sick. But Aria was right. This was important. “I’ll have my attorney draft it up tomorrow.”
She sat statue still, staring at the crib with her temple on my shoulder. “My parents didn’t have a will. To this day, it’s the one thing I haven’t been able to forgive them for. It wouldn’t have taken more than an hour or two. A phone call to a lawyer. But they put it off and then . . . they were gone.”
“We’ll have one,” I promised, then did my best not to tense because I didn’t want her to stop talking.
I knew only pieces of her history, the parts Clara had trusted me with over the years. But I wanted the full story and I wanted it from Aria. I wanted her to trust me with her past, like I’d trusted her with mine.
“Since they didn’t have a will, Clara and I became wards of the state while their estate was settled. We spent four weeks in foster care, waiting for family services to sort out where to stick us.”
“You ended up with an uncle, right?”
“Uncle Craig.” She shivered. “My mom’s stepbrother. They were estranged. My grandmother had been a single mom. She’d had Mom young. Then later she’d remarried a man a few years older, with a son. Her husband died but my grandma kept Craig. It was his senior year, I think. I didn’t know my grandma well. She died when Clara and I were babies. My dad’s parents were living in a retirement village outside of Phoenix, of all places. Not that far from here.”
“And you didn’t go with them?”
She shook her head. “I’m sure that’s what Mom and Dad had expected to happen. But when my uncle offered to take us, family services thought it was for the best. He was younger and lived in Temecula too, so we wouldn’t have to move to a different town. And my dad’s parents didn’t put up a fight. They didn’t want us, not really.”
It broke my heart that she’d felt unwanted. That she’d been at the mercy of the adults in her life. I could relate. It had been crushing to feel like a pawn and a burden rather than a child.