The Baby Favour. Andrea Laurence

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ home, Mason hesitated. He’d moved on instinct up until this moment, but he realized things were different now. Some of the furniture had changed. His favorite chair and big-screen television had moved with him. There was a large floral arrangement on the dining room table in a vase that he didn’t recognize and a bright-colored rug in the entry that was way too loud for his taste.

      It was obvious this wasn’t his house any longer and he wasn’t sure where to go next. “Where am I sleeping?” he asked. Initially, he’d thought he’d be in the guest room, but that was where the nanny would sleep. Their four-bedroom house had a master suite, a nursery, a guest room and Scarlet’s art studio.

      Scarlet paused and turned to look at him. “I guess we’d better make that decision before the nanny arrives with her things. I think you’ll have to sleep on the futon in my studio, with Carroll staying in the guest room that adjoins the nursery. Since my studio is upstairs near the master, it’s probably a better choice anyway. Even the nanny will think that we’re sharing a room.”

      “We can’t just share a room?”

      “Uh, no. I’m going along with this whole thing for Jay’s sake, but if you think you’re going to take liberties with me, you’re wrong. I think it’s best you sleep in the studio.”

      Although the idea of toughing it out on a futon didn’t appeal to him, she was right. “I don’t want to clutter your workspace. Will I be able to put my clothes and toiletries in your bathroom?”

      “I suppose.” Scarlet placed the sleeping baby into the Pack ’n Play they’d set up in the living room. “Just don’t make a mess,” she added with a smile.

      Mason chuckled as he turned to the stairs and carried his bags up to the second floor. They both knew that Scarlet was the messy one. Mason was the oldest child, raised to the highest standards possible. He was as perfect as he could be. He was tidy. He cleaned up after himself. He always put his clothes in the hamper and his shoes on the rack. He even made the bed. Or at least his side if Scarlet was still in it.

      Scarlet was an artist. She was an only child and was raised to be a free spirit. She saw nothing wrong with leaving a cereal bowl on the counter overnight or leaving a glob of toothpaste in the sink. Most of the time she was splattered in paint.

      They were different, but he’d loved that about her. Really, Mason had been envious of her ability to let things go. In the few months they’d had Evan, Mason had been on edge over the mess. “Babies are messy,” Scarlet would tell him with a happy smile even as she wiped away spit-up. He’d tried to loosen up then, but he had more than thirty years of training from his father to overcome.

      At the top of the stairs, he turned toward the bedroom to unpack his clothes. He paused just inside the French doors, staring at the king-size bed he used to share with her. At least it looked like the same bed. She had changed the bedding to an ivory-and-purple floral print, and the walls had been painted a pale purple color that almost looked gray. It was a far more feminine room than he’d left behind.

      It hadn’t changed enough for him to forget everything that had happened in there, though. The sight of the headboard alone was enough to bring back the memories of passionate nights spent together in this very room. It made his whole body start to tighten in a way furniture shouldn’t elicit.

      Despite the ups and downs of their relationship, he and Scarlet had always enjoyed a very physical and satisfying love life. From the first time they’d made love on the beach at midnight to the final time the night before he decided to move out, they’d had that spark. Thoughts of that last night together flooded his mind and sent jolts of electricity south to other parts. That memory had haunted him the last few months, knowing he’d never touch her again that way and it was his own fault. His response tonight was compounded by the scent of her perfume, which was stronger in here than anywhere else in the house. It filled his lungs as he tried to take a deep breath and wish away his response to Scarlet.

      “Carroll is here!” Scarlet called to him from downstairs.

      “I’ll be right down,” he answered and set his bags to the side. He’d unpack later. Now he needed to focus on getting his body and mind on the same page or this would be a very uncomfortable few weeks.

       Three

      Scarlet couldn’t shake the feeling that she was a horrible person.

      It had been only three days since Mason, Luna and Carroll moved into her house, but she felt awful from virtually the moment it happened. Not because she didn’t like having people in her space or that she resented the situation. It was because she did like it. She liked the scent of Mason’s shampoo lingering in the heavy air of the bathroom after his shower. She liked hearing a baby’s giggles downstairs. It reminded her of the happiest time of her life. And because of that, she had to keep her distance and close herself off from everyone else in the house.

      And that was why she was a horrible person.

      She hadn’t held Luna since she laid her down for her nap after the funeral. She hadn’t fed her, bathed her, played with her or even so much as stepped a foot into the nursery to check on her in the night. There might as well not even be a baby in the house. Scarlet tried to reason with herself that it was the nanny’s job. That was why she’d insisted they have one, after all. Scarlet was just for show—a make-believe mom for a make-believe family, to soothe Jay’s worries. So she could keep her distance, go along with her agreement with Mason and come out of this situation unscathed.

      April was right—this plan was entirely centered on her self-preservation. But who could blame her? What woman with a ticking biological clock and a love of children wouldn’t fall head over heels for Luna? She was the sweetest, most laid-back baby Scarlet had ever encountered. She had a head of crazy brown curls, Mason’s big blue eyes and his dimples. There was plenty of Rachel and Jay in her, too, like Rachel’s pert little nose and Jay’s pouty mouth, but unfortunately all Scarlet could see were the bits of Mason’s genetics in her.

      The pieces that their own biological child would’ve had if they could have had their own.

      It wasn’t easy to keep her distance. It was just in her nature to want to care for people. When she heard a baby cry, she wanted to soothe it. When Mason swore, she wanted to rush down and see if he’d hurt himself. But she had to remind herself time and time again that this wasn’t her baby and this wasn’t her husband. If she let herself think otherwise, even for a moment, her heart would be crushed when it ended.

      As it was, her heart still hadn’t recovered from its last major hit. She wasn’t entirely sure how she could recover when her too-sexy soon-to-be ex-husband was sitting on her couch watching a ball game and working on his laptop.

      So far, she had made the excuse that she had to work. And it was true. In her studio, a massive three-panel canvas took up most of one wall, waiting to be painted. When she was done, it would be disassembled, photographed, boxed and shipped to Hawaii to hang in the lobby of the Mau Loa Maui hotel.

      Scarlet took a step back and eyeballed her work. The painting was coming along. So far, she’d focused mainly on the background with the three humpback whales roughed in, but not yet done. Locking herself in her studio for hours on end had been helpful for that, at least. As long as she didn’t glance over at the futon with Mason’s neatly folded blankets and pajamas stacked on top of it.

      She put down her paintbrush and stretched her hands out. Damn. It had been a long time since she’d worked СКАЧАТЬ