Page 9 of Absinthe Minded

I drew a deep breath and squared my shoulders. Before I’d gathered the courage to turn the knob, Chloe threw the door open. The little girl leaped into his arms and hugged his neck so tight it looked painful, though Gabe didn’t seem to mind.

“Hey, munchkin.”

“I’ve missed you.” Chloe pulled back, grinning.

“Miss you, too.” He kissed her cheek before setting her down.

Even Cocoa seemed happy to see him. She sniffed his calves and the baby in the carrier beside him before sitting at attention.

I did a double take at the infant. My brain struggled to make sense of the situation. Gabe. On my doorstep with a newborn who looked likehim.

“Hi, Maggie.” Gabe ran his hand over the back of his neck, with a grin that still made my traitorous stomach do a somersault.

I had to hand it to him. He hadn’t changed a bit in the four years since he’d dumped me. Long, dark hair made for caressing, tanned skin made for licking, and those eyes, God, don’t get me started on those piercing green eyes. Unfortunately for Gabe, I was immune to his charms.

He reached down for the carrier. “It’s been a long time. How have you—”

“What are you doing here?”

“Can we come in?” His voice might have come out strong, but his slumped shoulders and the dark circles under his eyes betrayed him.

Against my better judgment, I held the door open. “Sorry, surprised to see you. Is that yourdaughter?”

He set the carrier beside the couch. “Yeah, she’s mine. Her name’s Ella.”

Chloe settled beside the baby. “Oh, Ella. Like Cinderella. She’s so cute.”

“Her real name’s Gabriella.” Gabe bent and scratched Cocoa behind the ears.

Once again, my body revolted against me. The idea that he’d had a baby with someone who’d loved him enough to name their child after him ripped me in two. Then again, this wasGabe,the man who’d taken a sledgehammer to my heart four years ago. Gabriel Anthony Marchionni, the oldest surviving Marchionni brother and biggest ladies’ man in New Orleans.

He flashed Chloe a smile that most would find sweet, but I didn’t trust it. “You got so big. How old are you now, twenty-six? Are you married?”

“I saw you at Christmas. You know I’m nine.” She stood and set her hands on her hips. “Aunt Maggie, can I play Xbox?”

“Sure, but let your little brother play, too.”

“Come on, Cocoa.” Chloe rolled her eyes and ran toward the playroom. Not even a baby could compete with video games.

The dog sniffed Gabe one last time and followed her pint-sized master.

He opened his mouth as if to speak, but clamped it shut and took a step closer to me. Too close, as if he still had a right to invade my personal space.

I eased back. It’s not that I feared Gabe, but I knew better than to get within sniffing distance. I’d never forgotten his scent—sandalwood and cedar and sin.

He frowned and glanced around the room. Children’s toys, shoes, stacks of mail cluttered the room. A half-dead Christmas tree sat in the corner surrounded by a halo of dry needles.

The longer he looked, the more my cheeks heated until my embarrassment dissolved into anger. What gave him the right to judge my housekeeping skills? Sure, I wasn’t perfect, but I’d damned sure made lemonade out of a barrel of rotten lemons.

He shoved his hands in his jean pockets. “I…uh…”

“Ryan had an ear infection. We haven’t gotten much sleep this week.” My words had come out far more defensive than I’d intended.

“Is he okay?”

“Yeah, the antibiotics finally kicked in.” I cleared piles of folded laundry from the couch and motioned for him to sit.

“What’s the story behind the tree?”

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