Summer had no idea where she found the strength to remain rock-steady while inside, a bumper car rally of emotions engaged in a free-for-all.
“Please go away,” she amended in a mockingly fake tone. Prepared to be as ornery and troublesome as possible, Summer was in no way ready for what seeing tears in Arnie’s eyes would do to her resolve.
“You know damn well I’m not going anywhere.” He lowered his gaze to the baby nestled in her arms. She’d never felt so exposed in her whole life as he stared at the baby their fiery passions had created as Ari suckled at her breast.
On his knees beside the chair, his face was mere inches from Ari’s. She heard him moan, “Oh my god,” followed by an indrawn sob.
She wanted to be a bitch—make him regret leaving her and make him sorry for what he missed—but she couldn’t.
She did, however, get in a single dig. “She’s yours.”
His shocked eyes flew to hers. “I know.”
Confident she had him by the ball, Summer arched a brow and stared him down. “Is that so? And how long have you known about her? Hmm?”
“What’s today?” Arnie replied. He shrugged and made a face. “About a week, give or take.”
No way. A week? In what world did his statement make sense?
“Oh.” She backed down. “Um, her name is Arianne. I call her Ari.”
He held her eyes. Tears sparkled in his. “You named her after my mother. Did you know?”
“She’s named for her father.”
“Yes, and thank you, but my mother’s name was Lianne.” He smiled at the baby. “Arianne Leigh.”
He’d discovered a lot in a short time. Her jaw dropped. She hadn’t even known about her middle name and used it as a last name out of convenience. Feeling the heavy weight of providence, Summer choked on her surging emotions.
Ari scooched in her arms. She let go of Summer’s nipple and complained.
“What’s the matter with her?” Arnie asked with real concern.
As modestly as she could, Summer switched Ari to the other breast and guided her greedy mouth to a waiting nipple.
“She’s hungry, that’s all.”
He went still and silent. His eyes were riveted to the sight of his daughter happily nursing without a care in the world.
They didn’t speak again during the ten or so minutes Ari suckled. Summer was fully aware of Arnie’s intense stare. He hardly blinked as he hovered inches away.
She wanted to touch him. Wanted to run her fingers through his hair and stroke his back. This was a big moment—father and daughter meeting for the first time. Summer felt his emotions. She was staggered by the hurt and loss she didn’t want to think about. His pain was nothing compared to what she’d been through.
Ned stuck his head in the doorway. “Sorry to interrupt, but the paramedics are transporting Stan, and the police are here.”
Arnie grumbled, “Okay,” and Ned backed away.
When Ari was full, she let go of Summer’s nipple and smacked her lips. On an impulse, as she sat forward to cover up, she handed the baby to Arnie.
“Here, make yourself useful.”
He was startled and jerked away, but she persisted and ended up shoving their three-month-old into his arms.
“Hold her head and put her on your shoulder. Pat her back softly and see if she has any wind.”
“Wind? What?”
“A burp. See if she has to burp.”
Summer turned away and struggled to get her boobs strapped down. She sucked in a series of steadying breaths. If talking to the police was in her future, she wanted to be calm.
When she turned around, Arnie was still holding Ari in his big hands. She never made it to his shoulder because daddy and daughter were connecting in a bonding moment so beautiful and powerful it shook her.
Ari cooed and smiled as she stared at her father’s face. His look of wonder touched Summer’s heart.
She hesitated twice before stroking Arnie’s back. “Hold her like this,” she gently murmured and showed him how to cradle the baby in his arms. “She can see you better this way.”
Every time she touched him, a flare of awareness rattled her cage. Her senses remembered everything about this man—how he smelled, the way his muscles rippled, how he tasted.
Shaking her head to stop where her thoughts were going, she stiffened slightly, determined to take control of a situation she clearly was the last person to know about.
In a flat, businesslike tone, she said, “We should go talk to the police.”