Page 7 of Wanting a Family Man

It hurt to acknowledge their hostility. It hurt even more to see Reid’s hand give Emma’s arm a reassuring rub. They were feeling threatened, which told her how much they loved Storm. That part was heartening, but it made Cloe jealous and sad and filled her with yearning. They had all of this to offer Storm and were far better equipped to raise her. It was in Storm’s best interest that they do so. Cloe couldn’t deny her niece any of this, but she still wished with all her heart that she had more to offer her than unconditional love and a soggy smile.

“I shouldn’t have run out the way I did,” Emma said in embarrassed apology. “I panicked.”

“It’s okay.” According to Sophie, Emma had been caring for Storm as though she was her own from the second she’d received the news about Tiffany. Cloe’s relief at hearing that was almost as profound as her wish that she had been the one to care for the baby herself.

She couldn’t seem to take her eyes off Storm and tried to catch her eye, smiling when she did. “Hi, baby.”

She braced herself for Storm to play shy, but after locking stares with her, Storm offered a smile that was a burst of love and acceptance andTiffany. That was her sister, right there, inside that teeny-weeny, pudgy body.

As her eyes brimmed with emotive tears, Cloe fell straight into love, irrevocably and for all time. She had to blink to keep her rush of hot tears in her stinging eyes, so they wouldn’t leak all over her face.

“Will you go see your Auntie Cloe?” Emma asked Storm, starting to offer the baby to her.

Auntie Cloe. Her heart was wrenched afresh. Cloe stepped closer, hands itching to grab the baby, but she only held them out in invitation.

The weight of every pair of eyes sat on her, heavy, sinking her heart with helplessness at how powerless she was to do anything but say hello to a baby she wanted to claim as her very own, hoping the baby would like her. If Storm rejected her, they all would.

Storm’s curious gaze looked straight into her soul. With a sudden, cheeky grin, she leaned toward her.

“Oh!” She was a ball of sunshine, nearly blinding Cloe with the bright joy she detonated inside her.

Storm was heavier than she looked, but strong and clingy and warm and soft. She smelled like heaven. Like windy skies and cotton and milk and something indescribably sweet but distantly familiar.

Cloe wasn’t really aware of sitting down, only that Storm filled her lap and immediately tried to stand on her thighs. One fist clenched into the collar of Cloe’s T-shirt as she bounced her knees and wobbled. What a dynamo of energetic perfection!

Cloe’s cheeks hurt, she was smiling so hard. She kept a firm hold on her while letting her do whatever baby stuff she wanted to do. The rest of the world ceased to exist while she became enraptured with bow legs and downy skin and a gooey smile around a slobbery fist.

She had never spent much time around babies. When she had babysat in high school, it had always been for kids who were able to walk and talk. She hadn’t appreciated how helpless and untouched by life babies were.

Storm had lost her mother, but she didn’t know it, which was tragic, but also it was a gift to not be shattered by the loss of Tiffany, the way Cloe was. She wrapped her arm around the baby and gave Storm’s hair a light caress, wishing she could somehow keep her this happy and oblivious to life’s blows forever.

And she tried to memorize everything about her. Her faint, expressive eyebrows and her button nose and the scratch of her little fingernails against her neck. The burble of her voice making nonsense sounds and the balance of softness and muscle in her warm little shape.

Oh, Tiff. I wish you could see what you made.

Cloe wanted to kiss her cheeks and drink in the smell of her neck and hold on to her forever and ever.

Babies had their own wants, though. After an uncounted number of minutes, Storm quit chewing her fist and stuck her wet hand out, squealing a noise of excitement.

“You’re going to act like you didn’t know I was here this whole time?” Trystan said in a tone that was dry but indulgent.

Cloe was instantly yanked back to reality, suddenly feeling terribly exposed as she realized everyone had been staring at her while she had been in her own little bubble with her niece.

Wait. Not everyone. Sophie and Logan were gone. That was a small blessing, she supposed.

Trystan crouched in front of her and offered Storm a teething toy, but Storm wanted him. She leaned out so unexpectedly, Cloe gasped and snatched her closer.

At the same time, Trystan reacted with lightning reflexes, bracing the baby so his hands covered Cloe’s elbow and wrist.

“She does that,” he said while Storm gave a staccato cry, one that wasn’t really distressed, only annoyed that she’d been denied going to Trystan.

Trystan’s palms were faintly calloused as he slid his wide hands to bracket Storm’s torso and drew her from Cloe’s loosening grip. A sizzling fire seemed to burn up her arms into her chest, but Cloe told herself it was the overwhelm of this moment. Her defenses were utterly annihilated. Thank goodness she was still sitting down. She was so bereft at giving up that baby, she could have collapsed into tears.

Trystan’s features softened as he straightened and tipped Storm against his chest, pretending to eat her bare toes, making the baby giggle.

Cloe’s heart lurched painfully, reacting to the way he expressed his love for Storm so naturally.Why can’t that be me?The thought was quickly followed by a disconcertingWhich one of them do you want to be? The one holding the baby or the one being held by that man?

Storm couldn’t survive on love alone, though. She gave another cross-sounding whimper that was also a demand and grabbed at Trystan’s mouth.

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