Bonus Epilogue
Reid Shilling was not known as a nice man. Even when he was young, four or five, with cherubic features, a halo of blond hair, and a dimpled smile, no one would have mistaken him for nice. Beautiful, yes. Nice, no.
This never mattered to him, and it mattered even less now.
He stared at the tiny infant, and she had the temerity to stare right back. He wasn’t sure how much she could actually see. Wasn’t it true that infants were near-sighted? He decided to pretend that she could see him perfectly. Twenty-twenty vision. That would make her solemn gaze, the graveness of her expression, and the reflection of lost hopefulness he saw in her eyes a little more comforting.
He recognized the look, although he’d never received it before. It was one of absolute trust, complete vulnerability, and the knowledge that they belonged together in this big, confusing, lonely as hell world.
He was in love. Two minutes with this tiny scrap of humanity and he was in love. It was ridiculous really. It was the crack against his chest, the cut at the back of his knees that his father had always taught him to expect.
Never look away from any opponent. Never lose focus, even when you’re down. Isn’t that how he lived his life? At least, he’d lived it that way until he found himself the sole protector of a baby.
Not just any baby.
His baby.
Claudia.
The great expanse of his Parisian apartment, wood floors, plaster ceilings, crown moldings and hollow rooms, was empty, and the silence was snowfall quiet.
But it wasn’t winter, there was no hush of fresh fallen snow, no muted winter silence. Outside his living room window, the sun rose over Paris, bright and insistently cheerful. The gray stone of the buildings across the Seine, the prism of the rising sun shining on floral laden terraces, the doves nodding their gray-down heads all lent the early morning a cheerful, optimistic feel. A begonia-scented breeze wandered in from the open terrace doors across his living room, and finally, the silence was broken by the coo of a dove on his terrace’s cast iron railing, and farther off, the blaring of a car horn.
Claudia flexed her tiny hand, curling her fingers as if she was expecting to find something there to hold. He reached forward and gave her his pointer finger to hold on to.
When her warm, delicate hand closed around his finger, he felt like she reached out and locked her hand around his still beating heart. It wasn’t an uncomfortable feeling.
No one had ever needed him before. No one had ever loved him. Even more, he’d never loved anyone. He barely liked anyone.
But this baby, lying on the antique silk carpet next to him, while he pulled up his knees and leaned his weight against the centuries-old walls of his apartment, well, he liked her. At this moment, he liked her more than he’d ever liked anyone or anything.
“We have a problem,” he told her.
His voice was deep, rich, an orator’s or radio announcer’s voice. When he spoke Claudia tilted her head, and wrinkled her brow. She liked it when he held her against his chest when he spoke, holding her against the warm rumble of his voice. She was probably wondering why he wasn’t holding her now.
There was an aching tightness in his throat, like he was coming down with a cold, or a sore throat from standing outside in the freezing rain. He had to swallow and blink a few times before he could speak again.
“I’m not going to be around long,” he said.
He waited for her to answer, but she only squeezed his finger a little harder, which was, he supposed, answer enough.
“Your mom’s gone. I’ll be gone soon. You didn’t choose the best parents, did you? You’re a bit like me in that.”
He smiled at his daughter. He thought she looked a lot like him. He hoped that when she was older, she wouldn’t mind it so much, the reminder of him in the shape of her eyes, and the color of her hair.
She was in a white, frilly dress, with a ribbon in her hair. It was the kind of outfit people always put cute baby girls in, although it had taken him a half hour to figure out how to get it on her, then another half hour to figure out how to get it off her when he needed to change her diaper.
The time for changing though didn’t compare to the hours it had taken him to figure out how to feed her. Weren’t babies born knowing how to eat? How did it take sixteen different bottles, trial and error with seven different types of formula, and a mountain of mind-boggling paraphernalia to figure out how to get his child to consume a few ounces of liquid food?
At the end of it all, he was amazed that any baby survives infancy. But they’d managed, the two of them learning together.
Now that the meals were consumed, the diapers changed, the crying done (hers not his) and the pacing and rocking finished, at least for a few minutes, Reid and Claudia had to talk.
“We have a problem,” he said again, just to make sure she understood.
She was so solemn, the way her eyes followed him so grave, he thought perhaps she did. The flowery-begonia breeze, the Paris morning sunlight, the sea-blue sky were all so optimistic.
Claudia watched him, blinking, squeezing his finger, waiting for him to continue.
“I’m not going to tiptoe around it,” he said, “you deserve the truth. I have six months. Maybe.”He ran his free hand through his hair, and let himself, for a moment thud his head against the cool plaster wall. He was tired. Already he was so tired. And everything hurt.
But he’d been hurt before. Hell. His childhood was a series of hurt after hurt. He’d survived that, hadn’t he? And while he wouldn’t survive this, he at least knew how to keep going when he didn’t feel that he could. No tears. No feeling sorry for himself. This was life. He had six months, maybe, and if six months was all he had to love his daughter, to live, then he was going to do the best he could.
“My parents will want you,” he said, the back of his neck tightened and his chest burned at the thought. “I won’t let that happen. I promise you.”
At the vehemence in his voice Claudia’s lower lip started to tremble, which he already knew meant she was working herself toward a good cry. So Reid tugged his finger free from her grasp and pulled her into his arms, resting her head against his chest. She gripped his t-shirt and turned her warm cheek against his heart.
“Here’s the plan,” he told her, thinking as he spoke, testing, discarding, and building futures. “I’m going to find someone who will love you as much as I do.”
He pressed the solid weight of her against him, brushed a finger over the curve of her baby-soft cheek. Suddenly, he was angry. How was it that he could be given this overwhelming love only to know that he’d lose it again so soon? But just as quickly, like a torrential spring rain, there and gone again, the anger left. What was the point of anger anyway? She was a gift. One he didn’t deserve.
What would he have done this last six months without her? Stewed in bitterness? Entered a self-pitying death spiral? Exited earth in a blaze of liquor and self-flagellation? Probably all of the above, without a hint of love, or even like for this world and the people in it.
He was a mess.
Reid shook his head. Was. Past tense.
Now he was a father. A dying father, but a father all the same.
For the next six months he was going to do his very best to be the father that his daughter deserved. He would shuck off all the guilt, bitterness and regret. He would live in a way that she would be proud of. Everything he did would be for his love of her.
He knew it didn’t make sense. He knew it was impossible that he should feel so much for a tiny infant he’d only just met. It didn’t matter. He felt it and that was all that mattered.
For once in his life, he’d done something right. He’d made her.
Now he was going to spend six months deserving her, hoping it would be enough to last a lifetime.
He brushed his hand over the soft down of Claudia’s hair. She made a quiet, kitten-like sound, and her eyelashes fluttered with fatigue. It had been a long night. Now a soft splay of sunlight filtered across the wood floor and fell across them, painting them in tones of gold. The light was warm, like butter melting on a piece of oven fresh bread.
“We don’t have long,” he said, his voice quiet, knowing she was close to falling asleep. “We need a woman who will love you. That isn’t hard, look at you. Who wouldn’t love you?”
He stopped, stared unseeing at the terrace window and Paris beyond. He was thinking through all the women he knew, sorting and sifting, like he was sifting sand, trying to filter out the rocks to find that one speck of gold. The one who would love his daughter.
“She has to be strong. Strong enough to stand against my parents. Powerful. Wealthy, yes. She’ll need money to fight them. She’ll need powerful connections, a titan of a family. A reputation for…” he considered, then said, “ruthlessness. You need a mother who can be ruthless for you.”
Reid smiled down at Claudia. The fluttering of her eyelashes had slowed from butterfly wing fast, to a slow sleepy stutter. She was being soothed to sleep by the deep vibration of his voice, and the plans they were making for her future. Reid’s voice held surety and confidence. The relaxation of her muscles, the soft rise and fall of her chest, told Reid she wasn’t worried about the future, she trusted him in that pure baby way.
For now she was safe and she expected to stay that way.
He wouldn’t let her down.
“Ruthless,” he said, turning the word over in his head, inspecting it from all angles. Ruthless. Something about it caught into him, like a hook, pricking at an old memory.
He saw it then. His eyes unfocused as he looked into the past.
There she was.
She was striding toward him, angry, powerful, cold. She was clad in burgundy and gold, and her cold, haughty disdain could cut him in a thousand little ways. For years he delighted in those cuts, their sting made him feel alive.
She burned like fire, twisting light and beauty, and oh, he’d wanted her, his younger self, he’d wanted her so much he would have done anything for her. Been anything for her.
“I will destroy you,” she’d whispered ruthlessly. And she’d meant it. And she could.
She could destroy him. She could destroy his parents. She could destroy his whole world.
But she could also save it.
He grinned out at the world, at Paris lit in the fiery glow of sunrise, at the crazy, ridiculous, desperate hope he was placing in the hands of a woman who hated him—always had, maybe always would.
“I’ve found her,” Reid said to his daughter. “I know who your mother will be. You’ll love her. She’s strong, and smart, and so damn incredible. She’ll keep you safe.” He nodded, knowing this was right. This was good. “When I’m not here anymore, you’ll have her, and she’ll be so damn strong that you’ll never have to worry about anything. I promise. You’ll love her. And she’ll love you. Just as much as I do.”
Claudia had fallen asleep against his chest. His heart thudded, almost painfully against her softly sleeping form.
He stayed still, holding her in his arms as he sat on the floor and watched the sun rise. She made sounds in her sleep, gripped his shirt tightly, and nuzzled her face against his chest.
Reid waited while she slept, planning, thinking, dreaming. He only had a short time, but he was going to make it count.
There was a slight smile on his face as he thought about the girl he’d known. They’d danced. They’d fought. They’d never had any illusions about one another. Once, he’d thought they’d end up together. Now he knew that wasn’t true.
To him, she was an angel, and he was as far from heaven as any man could get.
Still, the pain that had sunk into his bones, the fatigue that lingered in his marrow, it receded slightly as he thought about her.
He needed her.
Desperately.
Finally, when the streets were noisy with morning traffic, and the begonia-breeze was filled with exhaust, Reid stood, Claudia still in his arms.
“We’re going,” he said, smiling down at his daughter, who hadn’t woken yet. They had a plan. Everything would work out. “We’re going to New York.”She blinked her eyes open, her gaze was fuzzy and sleepy. He had to feed her. Hire a nanny. Find a home. Call his office and inform them he was taking an indefinite leave, starting now. He had to call his pilots, schedule a flight.
Now he knew why the morning had seemed sunny, cheerfully optimistic. Because everything was going to work out. It had to.
Claudia reached up, waved her hand, and rested her fingers against the stubble on his cheek. She was alert now, searching his expression, knowing in her way that he’d found the answer.
He smiled at her, hugged her close. “I’ve found your mother,” he said, “you don’t have to worry anymore. We’re going to live. We’re going to love.”
Claudia made a small noise, and Reid wrinkled his brow.
“What’s her name?” he asked, interpreting his daughter’s sound.
Maybe she wasn’t asking that, maybe she hadn’t understood any of the conversation. In fact, of course she hadn’t, she was only an infant.
But still, Reid smiled when he told her. He smiled with all the feeling he’d never known he had, with all the new-found love that had stolen into his heart, and wrapped him in its grip, as surprising and vivid as the first spring bloom rising from the winter-frozen ground.
“Her name,” he said solemnly, “is Andrea.”
Reid smiled, thinking of her.
Andrea.
