Not wanting to stand in the middle of the public hallway, I bend at the knees and lift her up in my arms, carrying her in a fireman’s hold into her apartment.
Finding the nearest couch, I gently place her down, then go back and close the apartment door.
As soon as the lock clicks, a loud wail fills the room. Blake’s body stiffens and worry is written all over her face as she watches for my reaction.
I don’t give anything away, even though every fiber of my being is being pulled toward the sound. I stare at her, waiting to see what she does or what she’s going to say.
Instead, she rises to her feet and leaves me alone in the middle of the room. The way the hum of her voice immediately soothes the crying baby has me following her footsteps, no longer willing to just be a spectator. I walk toward the sound and step into a beautifully decorated nursery.
My heart tugs two ways, grateful that there’s nothing my daughter doesn’t have, but pained that I wasn’t the one to provide for her.
Blake turns to face me, Alessia over her shoulder while she comfortingly rubs at her back.
“You know, don’t you,” she deadpans. “What took you so long?”
I nod, my eyes darting between the two people who, in a matter of days, have become the most important people in my life.
“What took you so long?” she asks again.
My face scrunches up in confusion. Excuse me? “What do you mean what took me so long? I only found out three days ago.”
She cocks her head to the side. “So you didn’t get my email?”
A little irritated that we can’t seem to find common ground, I step closer. “Can we talk about this later?” My gaze moves down to Alessia. “Can I hold her?”
Blake’s face softens, and the mood between us shifts. She glances down at the calm baby and then back at me. “Yes. Of course.”
With her hand supporting the back of Alessia’s neck, she lifts her off her shoulder and cradles her in her arms. I mirror the action and she places her across my forearms.
Emotion clogs my throat while my heart grows infinitely bigger for the small baby in my arms.
“Rosario,” Blake whispers. “I’d like you to meet Alessia Rosario.”
My head snaps up at her full name, my eyes filling with tears. “You named her after me?”
A beautiful, blinding smile spreads across Blake’s face. “Of course. She’s yours.”
Chapter Seven
Blake
I don’t know what brought him to my front door, or how he found out about Alessia, but watching him as he reverently watches his daughter for the first time irrevocably changes me.
He might be holding her, but there’s no doubt that right now he’s at her mercy.
I notice as a single tear falls down his face, and I don’t even think twice when I raise my palm to his cheek and let my thumb swipe the corner of his eye.
He raises his gaze to mine, his voice nothing more than an emotion-filled whisper. “She’s beautiful.”
“Come and sit down,” I suggest, placing my arm on his shoulder and guiding him to the rocking chair that sits in the corner of the room.
He’s a complete natural, holding her with such fierce protection. When he sits down, Alessia opens her eyes, and I wait for her to fuss at Rio for sitting down, the way she does with me, but it never comes.
Traitor.
Not wanting to be apart from them, I kneel on the floor beside them, and Rio’s eyes follow my movements, still somehow managing to peruse my body in a way that makes me light up inside.
Surprising me, he bends his body, careful not to wake Alessia, and kisses me on the top of the head. “I’m so happy to see you.”
My tears from earlier return, the relief at seeing him in my doorway unable to be contained.
There’s no doubt that he and I have a lot to talk about, but right now, I want to indulge in his presence. In this overwhelming sense of security that I didn’t realize I was craving.
Seeing him again only confirms I was an absolute idiot for running out on him that day, and not because of the events that followed. But because whatever he and I have was never fleeting. It wasn’t a single moment; it was an introduction for the life we could have together.
I can see that now, even if I should’ve seen it then.
I’m grateful for the small cry that slips from Alessia’s mouth, allowing me to focus on something else, instead of all the time Rio and I could’ve been together if I hadn’t run.
“Is she okay?” Rio asks nervously.
“She’s fine,” I reassure him. Considering the time and the heaviness of my breasts, I know it’s time for her to eat. “It’s just feeding time.”
“Oh.”
I can’t help but laugh at the disappointment in his voice. “I promise you’ll get to hold her after. Let’s go sit out in the living room.”
Standing up, I put my arms out for Alessia, who's crying has now gotten significantly louder. Carefully, he hands her to me, and we both walk out of the room and settle on the large, suede three-seater.
I begin to unbutton my shirt when Rio clears his throat. “Do you want me to leave?”
“What?” I ask, completely oblivious to his question.
“So you can…” He uses his hands to gesture to my breasts. “So you can feed her?”
Amused, I raise an eyebrow at him. “Does breastfeeding make you feel uncomfortable?”
He shakes his head vehemently. “No, not at all. I just want to make sure you’re not uncomfortable with me in your space.”
“I’m glad you’re here,” I admit honestly. “Am I allowed to say that?”
“You should always say exactly how you’re feeling.” Nervously, he rubs a hand across the back of his neck. “Does that mean I can ask why you didn’t tell me? About Alessia.”
Continuing to undress, I keep myself busy while trying to find the right words to say. Pulling the front of my maternity bra down, I angle Alessia’s head till she effortlessly latches onto my nipple and then look back up at Rio.
When our eyes meet, he swallows hard, as if he’s trying to push down his emotions, except there’s no use, they’re written all over his face.
Fear. Worry. Adoration. Love.
“I tried to contact you. Got your number and email address off Liza but…” I give him a shrug, trying to rid myself of the guilt that maybe I should’ve tried harder. “Your phone was never on. I couldn’t leave a message. I texted and emailed, and I never got a response.” My voice waivers as those horrible feelings of rejection return. “Time moves so fast, and before I knew it, she was here and I kinda didn’t have time to find you.”
Sighing, he scoots closer to me, grabbing my free hand and squeezing it. “If you hadn’t run from the hotel, I could’ve told you I’m a Marine.”
“Like in the military?” I interrupt.
He chuckles. “Yeah. Is there another type of Marine?”
“Sorry, that’s just not what I was expecting you to say.”
“Normally, I have my phone with me when I’m deployed, and when I get cell service or Wi-Fi, I can use it, but there was an incident and the phone was a casualty and it wasn’t a priority to get a new one,” he explains. “And I never received an email from you,” he says with such certainty. “Had I known there was someone trying to get in contact with me, I would’ve made more of an effort. If you gave me even a sliver of hope that we had a chance, I would’ve never fucked that up.”