Page 57 of Daddy's Unexpected Gift

“Are you asking if it’s safe to come over?”

“That’s exactly what I’m asking.”

I closed my eyes and thought for a moment. Georgie squirmed and shifted. I opened my eyes to make sure she was okay. Her little head was tilted back, and her mouth fell open with her bottle slowly sliding into the space between us.

“Hold on, let me get the baby back in her bed. Don’t go anywhere,” I grumbled before putting the phone down.

I lifted Georgie into the crook of my arm. She was getting bigger. Soon, I wouldn’t be able to easily carry her with one arm. After tucking her back into her crib, I crawled back into my own bed.

“I’m back,” I said with a yawn. “When do you want to come over?”

“Seriously, like right now.”

I might have groaned.

“I know I can’t, Sterling. I’m just anxious to go over my ideas with you. And to see you again.”

“Stanholt and the nanny are scheduled to be here later this morning. No one will be here if you come over for dinner.”

“Dinner?”

I made an affirmative grunt.

“If I come by for dinner, how long can I stay?”

“You can stay as long as you want, but maybe plan on leaving by six.”

“Six? I won’t even be there by six,” she complained.

“I meant A.M.”

She gasped, and this time, I knew she was blushing.

“I want to hear this plan of yours.” I was interested in how she thought it would work. I figured as long as she came over after hours, there was no reason for anyone at her agency to know she was here. And we only had to sneak around for a few months. I’d have to petition the state or something like that for custody, but after all of that was finalized, Cecelia and I could finally go public with our relationship.

I liked that she was organized and had a plan. And that her plan wasn’t to simply take care of her, though that wasn’t a bad idea. She was too independent to give up her career and take care of me and Georgie. Strong-willed and stubborn. Hmm, and beautiful.

“Come over for dinner. Stay the night,” I demanded.

“You don’t have to tell me twice. Go back to bed. Sorry I made you talk to me while you were sleepy.”

“Don’t be silly, Cecelia. I’ll see you this evening.” I ended the call and slid back into bed. Once upon a time, not so very long ago, before Georgie, I would have taken advantage of being up this early and hit the gym. I groaned and mentally prepared myself to flop onto my back and guilt myself into getting up. Instead, I pushed that stupid idea to the side. Sleep beckoned, and I returned.

The second time I woke up, I almost thought talking to Cecelia had been a dream. But Georgie was in her crib, and her bottle was still on my bedside table. If those things had happened as I remembered, then I accepted that so had talking to Cecelia.

I stayed in the background, not part of the conversation between the new nanny, Mrs. Fletcher—who insisted on being called Nanny Fletcher like some character from a Jane Austin novel—and Ms. Stanholt. They discussed growth milestones and care level expectations regarding Georgie. At no point was my opinion or my participation in the conversation requested.

“I still am her guardian, here,” I said at one point.

“Well, of course you are. And you have her best interests at heart. That’s all we’re discussing,” Ms. Stanholt said. I had been summarily dismissed. Only, I was expected to still appear as if I were participating in their discussion.

It was clear to me that the scenarios they were concocting regarding raising Georgie had me out of the picture but footing the bill. That was not going to happen. I grew irritated, and Georgie picked up on my mood and became irritable and cranky.

“I’m going to put her down for a nap,” I announced.

When neither woman said anything implying that I needed to be there, I scooped up Georgie. I headed to the kitchen first.

“You want a snack?”

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