Page 111 of Stealing Home

“I think I was waiting until I was sure,” he admitted.

“About him?” his father asked. The coffee finished brewing, and his father filled a mug and handed it to him.

Gavin rubbed a thumb over the rim of the mug. “About whether I’d get to keep him.”

His mother turned from the stove, and Gavin swallowed and looked toward the window to avoid her gaze.

“How’d you meet?” She asked after a moment.

“He hired me to renovate his house.” His father pulled out the chair next to him and sat down. “Kitchen, bathrooms, all of the floors.” He took a deep breath. “He’d just bought the place, and he needed it finished before he moved in with his daughter.”

“He has a daughter?” His mother sounded surprised.

“Lucia.” Saying her name hurt. “Everyone calls her Lucky. She’s six months old.”

He could almost feel her weight against his chest. The way she tucked her legs up when she was tired and grabbed his shirt with a tight fist so he couldn’t put her down without serious negotiation.

“Her mother left her with him when she was three weeks old,” he said. “He didn’t even know the baby existed until his ex showed up at his apartment with Lucia and a bag of stuff, told him he was her father, and left.”

His father stared at him. “Just like that?”

“Apparently.” He sipped his coffee. “But he’s so good with her. He talks to her about everything he’s doing, like she’s going to offer her opinion. And he gets this look on his face when she laughs.” His voice caught, and he took another drink of coffee.

“What happened, sweetheart?” His mother moved the pan off the burner and started plating the eggs.

“Her mother came back yesterday.” As soon as he said it, his father’s eyes narrowed and his jaw tightened, and Gavin knew his father was going to interrogate him. He shoved his hand through his hair and sighed.

“Does she want the baby?” his father asked.

“I don’t know.”

“Did he tell you she did?”

“No.” Gavin rubbed both hands over his face and wished he’d insisted on sleeping before they had this conversation.

“Then what did he tell you, son?” His father sounded confused.

“He called before she came over, said she wanted to talk and see Lucia.” He shrugged. “I offered to be there, but he wanted to talk to her alone. He asked me to come by when I was done with work.”

“So you went over?” This came from his mother, and he looked at her.

“Yeah. I brought dinner.” He wondered whether anyone had eaten the food he’d left. “When I got there, they were sitting on the floor, playing with Lucia.”

“And?” His mother turned to look at him fully.

Gavin stared at the tabletop. “And I don’t know. I knew she’d probably be there. I knew she wanted to see Lucia. But when I walked in and saw the three of them together, the only thing I could see was what it would be like if she stayed.”

His father rested a hand on the table and crossed his legs. “What did Dom say?”

“That he wanted me there.” Gavin traced a finger through the condensation his water glass had left behind. “He wanted to talk, and I told him he needed time to figure out what happened next.”

His mother slid a plate of eggs in front of him. “Had he said he didn’t know what he was going to do?” Gavin shook his head. “So what were you waiting for him to figure out?”

He pushed back from the table and the chair legs scraped across the floor as he stood. “I don’t know, Mom.”

Diane Carter stayed quiet, watching as Gavin walked to the sink, braced his hands on the edge, and looked out into the backyard. The sun had risen high enough for its rays to fill the yard, and Gavin stared at the light shimmering across the pool.

“I love him.” Neither of them moved at his whispered confession, and Gavin bowed his head. “I told him that yesterday for the first time, and then I told him it was why I needed to leave.”