Chapter 42 42
Alana chuckled, and Stefan gave her a quick look. “Enjoying this, are you?”
“Is that wrong?” she asked, still grinning.
He scowled at her, then shook his head and wrinkled his nose. “Fine, fine. Big joke. But you have to admit, I’m not doing badly.”
“I suppose,” she conceded with a nod. “But smells to me as if you’ve got a little problem facing you at the moment.”
“And I’ll handle it,” he said firmly, as though he was trying to convince himself, as well as her.
“Okay then, get to it.”
He scrubbed one hand across his face, looked down into the crib and murmured, “How can someone so cute smell so bad?”
“A universal mystery,” she told him.
He looked at her for a long second or two until Alana said softly, “So are you going to take care of Juliana's little problem or do you need a rescue?”
He didn’t look happy, but he also didn’t look like he was going to beg off. “No, I don’t need a rescue. I said I would take care of it and I can. I've been doing it for a while now and I don't think there's anything new to surprise me anymore. I'm in for this one hundred percent.”
He took a breath, frowned again and reached into the crib. Alana heard the tear of the straps on the diaper, then heard Stefan groan out, “Oh my God.”
Laughing, she turned around and left him to his daughter.
____________
Stefan felt the change between them, the strength of the bond that went beyond the child, but he kept it to himself. Alana was a strong woman, but trusting a man again scared the living daylights out of her. She deserved to be wary, and he still wanted to pulverize the men who'd hurt her.
But still, he acknowledged that even though she'd not yet agreed to marrying him or letting him move in, he was getting through to her slowly. He was getting closer. He could feel it.
He glanced at the woman pushing the stroller beside him in the park. Did she realize, as he had, that they'd fallen into a routine with each other? He might leave every night, but he was there almost everyday for so long that he might as well move all his things in.
"That's not the look of a proud father," she said softly from beside him. “What are you thinking about?”
He smiled at the flush in her cheeks. "Nothing you should be worried about," he murmured, adding a long velvety look over her body.
Stefan knew the only thing keeping them apart was her distrust. He was trying to earn her trust, though he hadn't given her any reason to distrust him. He was paying for some other man's crime, and while Stefan wanted to bide his time, he was getting a little impatient.
They'd circled the park and were heading back to Alana's place when she paused near a bench to adjust the restraining strap of the stroller. An elderly woman sitting there was feeding the ducks that lingered near the small pond.
"Oh, aren't you a pretty little thing!" she said to Juliana, and leaned out to brush her fingers over the baby's hair.
Juliana gurgled and made bubbles for the woman.
"Thank you. We think so," Alana said.
The woman looked up at Alana. "She has your husband's eyes."
"Oh, we're not married," Alana said without thinking, and instantly cursed her thoughtlessness.
The woman blinked, first glaring at them, then offering the child a look of pure pity that Alana couldn't ignore.
"You poor dear," she cooed. "Raised a bastard because of selfish parents."
Stefan stiffened and pulled the stroller well back from the old woman. "I see that being inexcusably crass has nothing to do with age," he snapped.
Alana looked between him and her child, fighting the welling of tears.
The woman sniffed, then huffed out an indignant breath. "Well, it's your own fault, you know. I won't be the first—or the last to say it, either, young man. You ought to be thinking of this innocent child and not yourselves. Since you weren't thinking of her when you made her."
Alana gasped, then grabbed the stroller and wheeled it away. Stefan clenched his fists at his side and being an officer and a gentleman, refrained from telling the woman exactly what he thought of her.
He went after Alana.
"Don't say anything," Alana muttered without stopping.
"Alana, honey, stop."
"Damn that old bat." On her front steps, Alana burst into tears. "How could she say that to my baby!"
Stefan swept his arms around her. "Shh." He pressed his lips to the top of her head and Alana sobbed. Juliana chimed in. "Come on." He ushered his women into the house.
Once inside, Alana sat on the sofa and cuddled the baby. Juliana continued to whimper.
"Alana, honey, you're scaring Juliana."
"I know, I know. Help me, please." She handed the child to him and went to wash her face. In the bathroom she sobbed with helpless anger, and when she came back, he'd put the baby in her crib.
Alana went to go check on her, but Stefan stopped her. "She's fine."
She scowled. "Let me go."
"You're upset and she knows it. Come on, relax a little."
"I don't want to relax. I want to stay mad."
"Good, then let's talk about this." He urged her toward the sofa.
"We've done that." She plopped into the cushions.
"Have I asked you to marry me again? Have I reminded you that we should do this for her and not us?"
Alana felt battered by her own words and feelings. "No," she admitted, "you haven't." She snatched up a pillow and plucked at the edges when she wanted to punch that old woman. "But nothing has really changed, has it? We're not going to see marriage in the same way. You see names on paper and I see lifetimes."
Stefan felt her words sink into him like arrows. "What do you want, Alana?" When she remained silent, he took the pillow and forced her to look at him. "What do you want?"
"I want a marriage like my parents have, where what they do, they do together. And not just for the kids, but for themselves, because they loved each other first." She swallowed hard. "I want to be loved because I'm me, Stefan, not because I'm Juliana's mother."
"But you are her mother, and that's not going to change."