Glenna waved a hand at him dismissively as she scanned, a harried expression spreading across her face. Somehow…somehow this worried, harried look suited her. Glenna’s dedication to this child, even in this moment of uncertainty, made her all the more alluring. She glanced up at him, exhaustion mixing with fire. “I’m still looking…”
“Look harder. Maybe we can take her on a plane ride in lieu of a car ride.” He knew his parents had used the car to put Breanna asleep. They joked that even as an infant, she’d needed to travel, to move. He shoved the painful thought back down, needing to focus on the present. On Fleur. On being there for his possible daughter.
“I’m not comfortable with an impromptu plane ride in the middle of the night with no flight plan.”
Damn. That made sense. His unease grew as Fleur’s crying continued, becoming even more urgent. For the first time in his life, Broderick felt the tug of failure, felt he wasn’t enough for the task at hand. “Fair enough. Maybe you could walk her and I’ll look on the internet.”
“What else do you expect to find? We’ve covered all the steps in Baby Care 101.”
“I have friends I can ask.” There were a few people at the office dancing in his mind’s eye. Surely one of them would know what to do.
“Are you planning to tell them what’s going on in your life? Because I’m not sure that’s wise.”
“I can be subtle,” he protested, heat flooding his cheeks.
She burst out laughing, launching a fresh wail from the baby.
Broderick winced, not sure when he could recall feeling this helpless. “Shh, shh, shh, Fleur. I’m here. I would sing, but my voice would hurt your ears.”
Glenna leaned back in her chair, her eyes softening. “You really are doing everything right. Just keep walking and let her know you’re there. When you’re tired, I’ll have a turn. We’ll keep walking until she falls asleep. Maybe it doesn’t sound like much of a plan, but from everything I’ve read, it’s a timeless one.”
“Timeless plan it is. I guess there is nothing left to do.” He paced around the room, slowly and gently rocking Fleur.
“If someone had told me a year ago I’d be in a cabin with you and a baby, I would have called them a lunatic. And yet here we are.” She folded her arms across her chest, her expression surprisingly light and inviting.
“Yes, this was never a scenario that entered my mind, either.” He walked toward the window, drawn to the blanket of stars.
“Funny how things work.”
He chuckled wryly. “Truth.”
Silence hung between them for a moment.
Actual silence. The baby had stopped crying.
In a softer voice, one barely above a whisper, he asked, “What do we do now?”
She pointed at the crib. “All the blogs say you should lay the baby down while she’s drowsy. Let’s do that. I’ll be right there with you for moral support.”
On creeping toes, they made their way into the small nook area with the crib. Broderick laid the baby down carefully.
The only sounds were the quiet ones of a snoozing baby. His eyes met Glenna’s. And though shadows cloaked her face, she seemed calm. A small smile rested on her lips.
He realized right then why he’d jumped at the idea of making their relationship more serious.
This wasn’t a casual weekend rekindling for him.
CHAPTER TEN
The next morning, Glenna woke to streaks of sunlight coming in through the windows. The days were lengthening, but Alaska nights were still long, even in the spring. She stretched and wriggled her toes to work away the remnants of sleep.
And then the night came flooding back.
How she and Broderick had decided to stay in the room with Fleur. How they’d fallen asleep while waiting to make sure she was really okay. They’d had the small parenting victory of figuring it out together.
She found herself drawn to the word together.
Sleep had come so quickly in that domestic scene. She opened her eyes fast and found—
The bed was empty. The pillow held the indention of his head and the Egyptian cotton sheets were tangled. The fat comforter dragged off his side of the bed. She touched the space and found the fine thread count sheets to be cool. He’d been up for a while.
Her gaze skirted over to the portable crib. It was empty, as well, the whale-and-fish mobile swaying lightly. The house was silent, with not even a bark from Kota.
Curiosity, along with a hint of panic, wafted through her.
She swung her legs off the bed, the furry rug warm on her bare feet. She tiptoed along the floor until she found her fleece-lined slippers and shoved her chilly feet inside. Threading her fingers through her tangled mass of hair, she padded to the bedroom door…