Chapter 2 2
"Stefan, wait! She's not going to like this." Emily moaned and folded her arms over her middle. "What are you going to do?''
"Talk to her, marry her, give my daughter my name. My child isn't going to grow up without a father, Emily. I won't allow that." He let out a breath. "Tell me where she lives.”
_________
Stefan marched up the neat path to the little house. It was a perfect little place, far back enough from the street to be private and surrounded by a small picket fence to protect a child from the traffic.
He stopped short. A child. His child. Good God. Alana had given birth to his baby. Alone, without him. Without him ever knowing he'd become a father. And his daughter was already six months old! He'd missed everything. Missed seeing Alana round with his baby, missed the baby's birth, those moments when dads go into complete panic with the coming of labor pains. He'd missed his baby's first smile, her mother's first look of pride… Damn. Inside, anger as wide as a river warred with a strange feeling of absolute joy.
He was a father. There was a baby in that house that was half his. A life he and Alana had created that night. And she'd tried to take that from him, take away his chance for something more than what he was. Anger boiled and he continued to the door, knocking hard.
It flung open an instant later. And his breath punched out of his lungs. She looked incredible. More incredible than she had last time he'd seen her. His heart pounded like a hammer in his chest. His gaze ripped and dipped over her body. Jeans never looked so good on a woman. A T-shirt never looked so sexy. Red hair spilled over her shoulders, and if he hadn't been staring at her body he would have noticed the look of surprise and anger on her face.
Then he did. Well, so what, he thought. She was the liar. She was the one who'd denied him his rights to his own child. "I hear you have something to show me." He said.
Her features yanked taut. "I'm gonna beat your sister up, just so you know."
The day when his sister had walked into her office, her whole world had crashed. Alana had been feeling so alone then, and seeing her best pal had opened a floodgate of anguish she hadn't known she'd held back. She'd missed Stefan so much. Really missed him.
"Yeah, well. That won't compare to what I'm ready to do to you."
Her look was leery. "Perhaps you should come back when you've calmed down a bit."
"I am calm."
She arched a brow, trying not to let her heartbeat shoot through her throat at just the sight of him."Try again, Stefan. You look ready for battle."
He stepped closer and enjoyed her indrawn breath. "I'm always ready for battle—it's my job. Or did you forget that about me, too?"
Alana didn't forget a thing. Not the look in his eyes when he wanted her, not the one he got when he was mad. And he was furious. But then, she knew he would be.
"So are you going to invite me in or do I have to push my way inside?"
She didn't say anything, the inevitable too clear to argue. She stepped back, waved him inside and closed the door. He stood close, looming over her, and Alana wanted nothing more at that moment than the feel of his kiss. His arms around her. Seeing as that was dangerous, she went for reason. "I didn't try to keep this from you, Stefan."
Her soft tone and liquid eyes caught him in the gut. "Then how come I'm the last to know?"
"I tried to call you at some point when I first found out but I couldn't reach you." She moved into the living room. "Everything you do is top secret and cloak-and-dagger. I called and spoke to an Ensign Frostbite—"
"Frostbite?" he interrupted.
"As in, his attitude was chilling enough to give me some."
Stefan tried not to smile. She'd called, he thought. She'd tried to contact him. Some of the fire went out of him.
"He said that since I wasn't your wife or next of kin, I couldn't speak with you. Even Emily tried to contact you for me once, but your number wouldn't go through. I guess you were on one of your important, secret missions and since no one was dying or anything, they wouldn't oblige." She shrugged, understanding in the movement. "And well, tell him he's the father of a girl, eight pounds seven ounces, is not something you want to leave in a message."
She moved behind the sofa, dragged her fingers over the edge, tweaked a pillow, and for a split second he saw her as she was then, pregnant, hanging on to a phone, wanting to tell Stefan, but unable to reach him.
"Yes, I guess not." he said.
Alana nodded, "Yeah, I decided I had to wait."
"I called your number a few times but it was disconnected or switched off or something." he explained, “I guess you changed your number,”
Something old and smothered in Alana tried working itself out just then. "Yes, I felt like I needed a fresh start for some reason, so I changed it."
She wasn't going to admit to a soul that it was because of Stefan. That she'd been so heartbroken over his absence and being unable to reach him. That she'd decided to let him go since it was the only way to move on. That she'd been devastated about having the baby all by herself without him by her side. She'd survived fine without him. She'd had a baby alone, hadn't she? But then she'd moved to this apartment, where she knew he'd be able to find her if he wanted. Real brave, she thought.
It wasn't like she could hide from him forever. His sister was her best friend. She worked for his father's company. She couldn't exactly disappear from the face of the earth.
Stefan glanced around at his surroundings. The interior had a sudden calming effect on him. The furnishings were elegant. Fat pillows were strewn on the sofa and floor. Elegantly rumpled, he thought and realized he liked it. Then he noticed the toys.