7. Sterling
Cecelia from the agency sat on the floor and played peek-a-boo with Georgie. Her files were stacked up on the kitchen table, left from when she came to today’s appointment as if she were braced for a fight. I didn’t want to fight. I wanted to restore the peace and quiet I had prior to Georgie being foisted upon my life.
I very much was not set up to have a child. Something as simple as peek-a-boo had been beyond me. Of course, I knew how to play the game, cover my eyes and pretend I didn”t know the baby was sitting in front of me, and then move my hands and act happy and surprised that I can now see the baby.
The problem was that it hadn’t occurred to me. I had managed to hire a private investigator to find her father, but it hadn’t occurred to me to play with her.
Interactions with Georgie had been pretty much left to eating, changing, and putting her to bed. She didn’t seem interested when I attempted to read to her. She didn’t understand most of anything I was saying, so what did it matter what I read to her? I was reading. She wasn’t interested in tech analytics or the financial reports I had to review. I had to read the material to keep up with the industry.
The baby books Cecelia had imposed on me told me to read to the baby.
I was doing my part. Georgie wasn’t participating as expected.
And now she was climbing all over the woman from the agency, pulling her hands away from her eyes and giggling like this was the funniest thing she had ever seen. Peek-a-fucking-boo was hilarious.
“I was under the impression that you were going to inspect the living situation,” I said sardonically. “I didn’t realize this was a play date.”
Georgie grabbed Cecelia’s hands and pulled them away from her face. The baby let out a squeal of delight.
Cecelia did not shift her gaze over to me. She kept her smiling face on Georgie the entire time. Even the inflection in her voice was for the baby, though the words were definitely for me. “There is plenty of time for me to go through and assess the apartment—or is this a condo—for safety issues. Georgie was clearly in need of some interaction. Have you been reading to her?”
I grunted. “Yes, I read to her.”
“Do you play with her?”
“I didn’t realize that was a requirement,” I admitted.
Cecelia’s eyes flashed to meet mine. “She’s a baby. Of course it’s a requirement. She needs mental stimulation. Do you at least talk to her when you’re feeding her?”
“What about? Market fluctuations in tech development? She’s not exactly an expert.” I crossed my arms and glared at the woman.
She made a pained expression, opening her mouth to berate me at first, but then she closed her mouth and sucked her lips in behind her teeth and closed her eyes. Was she counting to ten before speaking again? Had I pushed her to her limit?
If I had, her limits were very narrow. Why had someone like her gone into social services if she had no patience?
I watched and waited. Cecelia entertained me. Rude, I know, but her irritation with me was almost comical. I was tempted to poke at her just to see how she would respond. It was a juvenile response, a mechanism deep in the fiber of my being that had me acting out. Something inside drove me to pull on pigtails when I was a little boy and tease the girls with braces and training bras when I hit middle school. At some point, that need turned to something a bit more visceral.
I liked girls, and now I liked women. And there was something about Cecelia that brought out the little boy in me. It was as if I didn’t know how to behave around her, so I wanted to annoy her. Tease her. Get her angry. Anything to have her give all of her attention to me.
“Miss Cecelia.” I started speaking before she made it to number ten, or whatever she was counting to. “You are more than aware that I am out of my league here. Your agency knows this, but for some legal loophole my sister got her hooks into, I have custody of Georgie until her father can be located. Look around my place. I am not inclined toward children. My friends don’t have kids. I am relying on your assistance to help me through this. So, no, it hadn’t occurred to me to play with the baby.”
Maybe if I threw myself on her mercy, she’d look at me again? I found the way light refracted in her eyes to be quite attractive.
She blew out a breath. I guess she was done counting.
“You can’t be as hopeless as you’re making yourself out to be. I’ve read almost everything in Georgie’s file, and you would have been a teenager when her mother was born.”
“I wasn’t an integral part of Argene’s childhood,” I admitted. “My parents had strong opinions about what gender roles encompassed. They thought my masculinity would be damaged if I played with a baby.”
Cecelia blinked a few times. “Your father didn’t play with you? He didn’t change diapers?”
“Most definitely not.” I chuckled.
Cecelia stood, brushed off her curvaceous backside, and then picked up the baby. “Okay, show me around. Let’s see what you have managed to do. And I will try to think up a few crash course-style ways to get you up to speed with having a baby.” She held Georgie out to me.
I stared at the baby and then shifted to look at Cecelia.
Cecelia let out an exasperated sigh. “Take her. You need to bond with her, not simply be her caretaker.”
I took the baby. She fussed. We locked eyes. What was I supposed to do with this tiny human? She made the first move and grabbed and pulled on my nose.
“Ow.” I grabbed her hands and pulled them from my face.
She cried.
“See,” I complained. “She’s always like this.”
“Are you always like this?” Cecelia asked.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“She was exploring your face. You don’t look like anyone she knows.”
“She grabbed my nose.”
“Yeah. She grabbed mine too. It’s kind of a thing babies sometimes do. If she hurts you, you need to be gentle.”
I let go of Georgie’s hands. She put them on my face again. This time, she ran them over the scruff of my beard before going for my nose.
“Why is it always the nose?” I grimaced.
“Gentle,” Cecelia cooed. She eased the baby’s grabby hands from my nose.
Georgie looked at Cecelia, and then back at me. Instead of grabbing my face, she petted me like I was a dog or a cat.
“Someone must have taught her that. To gently pat. She must have had a pet.”
“I feel like a cat or something,” I complained.
Georgie made a few noises. They were her attempts at talking. It took us a while, but she was able to almost say juice in a way that Wayne or I could recognize. These were different sounds than anything I had heard from her previously.
“Kitty?” Cecelia said.
Georgie repeated the sounds.
“She must have had a kitty cat.”
“I’m not getting her a cat,” I said.
“Best not. After all, you haven’t gotten her any toys. Why don’t you show me what you have managed to get her?” Cecelia said.
“You saw the highchair in the kitchen. Let me show you the bedroom.”
“Did you manage to get a changing table?” Cecelia asked as she followed me down the hallway.
“I managed to get her an entire bedroom,” I said. I opened the door to Georgie’s room and stepped aside, allowing Cecelia to step in first.
Her entire face lit up as she looked around. “You managed to fully furnish a nursery in two days?”
“It’s not my taste, but that doesn’t really matter. I didn’t have time to paint, and I felt that the white furniture went with the walls,” I said.
Cecelia crossed the room and opened the dresser. “You even managed to get clothes.”
“I have more on order. She goes through clothes much faster than I expected.”
“Don’t overbuy. Georgie will grow out of these sooner rather than later.” She smiled, and this time, it was directed at me.
The same urge deep inside that had me wanting to poke at her now preened at the attention.
“You need more diapers,” Cecelia said as she continued to inspect the room, opening drawers and dragging her fingertips over every surface, touching everything.
I suppressed the urge to growl and demand that she touch me the same way. I stepped in close behind her and inhaled her scent.
She turned suddenly. I hadn’t realized I had gotten so close. There she was. Her chest brushed against mine as she took in a sudden, sharp breath. My gaze was drawn to her lips. Every time I tried to think of what my intentions were, I found myself looking at her lips and wondering what she tasted like.
I lowered my eyelids and leaned forward.
Georgie grabbed my nose again and her fingers pressed into my closed eyes. I flinched and stepped back. My initial reaction was to lash out, smack hands. Instead, I carefully enfolded Georgie’s little fingers in my hands. “Hey, there. Careful, that’s attached.”
Cecelia leaned back against the changing table. I could see her quickened pulse in her neck, and her breasts heaved with her rapid breathing. “See, you can be taught.” She giggled nervously.
I much preferred her giggle to her scowl.