But if anything really drove her crazy, it was Tony’s careful aloofness.
If something didn’t happen soon, she’d snap. Shouldn’t Tony be the one panting after her? Men never turned down sex—but she’d found the only one who would, even if it was for a good reason. Even if she knew she was being impatient, irrational, and taking her frustration out on him. She pressed her flushed face into the cool pillow.
You know he’s keeping something from you. Something that might make you regret being with him. And you know he’s right. It’s better to wait. It’s not like you to be so impulsive.
Wasn’t it?
Damn it, she didn’t know.
She groaned and slapped a hand to her face. She had to get up. Get up, get dressed, make breakfast, and go spend another day with Miranda. She’d promised the girl a trip to the park today, and if Rebecca lingered in bed any longer she’d be tempted to wrap herself up in the fading traces of Tony’s scent and go right back to sleep.
If Miranda would even let her. She guessed she had five minutes before the little monster came barreling in with a mess of questions Rebecca wasn’t awake enough to answer. She smiled to herself. Miranda was such a brat, but Rebecca couldn’t wholly blame Tony for that. She spoiled the girl just as much. Miranda had her wrapped around one chubby little finger, and Rebecca didn’t mind one bit.
Whatever her life had been before, it couldn’t have been as lovely as this.
Rebecca rolled out of bed, dressed, and slogged into the living room. Tony sat on the couch with Miranda curled in his lap. The TV blared gaudy music while a penguin and hippo sang on a pirate boat. Tony kissed the top of Miranda’s head. His lips moved soundlessly, and Rebecca squinted. Was he mouthing the words to the song?
Yep. That was definitely an arr.
“All you’re missing is an eye patch and a peg leg,” she said.
Tony’s head jerked up. A guilty flush darkened his face, but he grinned. “Morning.”
Miranda perked and squealed. “Becca!” She raised her arms. “Daddy, walk!”
Tony loosened his grip, and Miranda tumbled off the couch and straight into Rebecca’s legs. Rebecca stumbled back and barely caught herself on the wall.
“Miranda!” Tony chided, voice rich with laughter. “Rebecca just woke up. It’s not fair to sack the quarterback before she’s had her morning coffee.” He eyed Rebecca in amusement. “I think she’s a little too excited about the park. Sorry.”
“It’s fine,” she said. “My legs aren’t broken yet. Up you go, munchkin.” Rebecca lifted Miranda into her arms and carried her to the kitchen. “No park until breakfast, and I’m guessing your father didn’t cook.”
Miranda’s face scrunched up. “Daddy’s a crappy cook.”
“Miranda!” Rebecca choked back a laugh and tried to look stern. “Where did you learn that word?”
“Guilty party here.” Tony followed them into the kitchen and leaned against the counter with a regretful smile. “Better than what she said when she dropped her doll the other day.”
“Honestly, Tony, you are the worst influence.”
“So bad I could even corrupt an angel.” He grinned. “But I make a mean pot of coffee.”
“Prove it, while I put some food in this little monster’s belly.” She set Miranda on the counter and tickled her belly. Miranda giggled and clutched at her fingers. “How do pancakes sound? Do monsters eat pancakes?”
“I’m not a monster!” Miranda proclaimed firmly, and lifted her chin. “I’m an angel. Just like you, Becca.”
Rebecca stared at her. She felt as if her chest would burst, and she couldn’t stop the silly smile that spread across her face. “Yes, you are, sweetheart.” She wrapped her arms around the girl and gathered her close. “My little angel.”
“You’re both my angels.” Tony dropped a kiss into Rebecca’s hair, and lingered with a hand against the small of her back. Rebecca looked up at him. That sense of rightness struck her again. This moment was perfect: Miranda in her arms, Tony hovering over them both.
Tony’s gaze met hers. His lips parted, and uncertainty flickered across his face. He started to dip his head toward her. She swayed closer, and he froze. The pure torment in his eyes was only visible for a second, but it was enough to send a quiver of heartache through Rebecca. He pulled away.
“Coffee,” he said. “And the park. We’d better get there before the dog-walkers and nannies take over.”
Rebecca followed his every move as he hovered over the coffee pot like a vulture. His hands shook, and he nearly spilled coffee grounds all over the counter. He looked so guilty, and for no good reason. She’d been so certain he was about to kiss her, and then he’d pulled away. Was it too hard to even give her a good-morning kiss? Did he really think, when she’d regained her memory, that she’d leave him over just one kiss—or was it something more sinister?
Why did it feel like he was punishing himself for something he’d done in the past?
“Becca?” Miranda tugged her shirt. “Hungry.”
Rebecca forced her gaze away from Tony and turned a wan smile on Miranda. “Right. Let’s get you something to eat.”
…
After breakfast, Rebecca stepped out into the hot summer sun with Miranda’s hand curled in hers. Tony held Miranda’s other hand, letting go only to lock the door behind him. He kept his eyes studiously anywhere but on Rebecca. An empty feeling sank into the pit of her stomach, slowing her steps. Tony had barely spoken a word to her all throughout breakfast, and his bright smile now just hurt even more.
“I thought we’d stop by the toy store on the way,” he said.
“Toy store?”
“Yeah. You were walking out of the toy store with Miranda when that guy shot you. I thought maybe, if you went back…” He tilted his head, his forced smile growing tighter. “You might remember something.”
“Oh,” Rebecca said, and made herself smile for Miranda’s sake. “Sure. Great idea. You want to go to the toy store, munchkin?”
“Can Santa give me another lollipop?”
Could what? “Whatever you say, kiddo.”
Rebecca and Tony spoke not a word to each other as they headed down the sidewalk. Miranda filled in more than enough for both of them, bubbling over with questions and observations and random laughter—but even she fell silent after several blocks of distracted smiles and murmurs, subdued by the weighty tension that fouled the lovely morning.