The Billionaire Husband's Regret

Chapter 9

“We’ll have to dry this,” he was muttering. “You’ve been so sick; I don’t think it would be wise for you to sleep with wet hair. Where is your dryer?” She pointed to her dresser and he picked her up, ignoring the jerky movement of protest she made. He deposited her on the padded seat in front of the dressing table, and Alice was confronted by her own haggard reflection. She looked a sight; her face was gaunt and unnaturally pale, and her eyes looked feverishly bright and overly large. The towel was still draped around her shoulders, but it had fallen open to reveal the thin body beneath. To Alice’s own eyes she looked too thin, and she wondered how Jack had been able to bring himself to touch her when she looked like this. He switched on the machine and started drying her hair, running his fingers through it with a rough tenderness. She blinked in surprise and sluggishly raised her hands in an attempt to take the blow dryer from him.

“I can do it,” she protested. He lifted the machine out of her reach and watched her in the mirror until she dropped her arms in resignation. He grunted in satisfaction and went back to the task of drying her hair.

When it was dry enough to suit him, he ran a brush through the dark, silky mass and then tied it back with one of the hair ties lying scattered on the dressing table. He picked her up again and deposited her back onto the unmade bed, tucking her under the covers and tossing the towel aside before climbing in beside her and dragging her stiff body close to his. She lay with her head on his chest, listening to his heart beat steadily beneath her ear and wondering what this was all about. He remained silent though and eventually Alice relaxed enough to drift off to sleep again.Alice cautiously opened her eyes to a sunlit bedroom. There was no sign of Jack, and instinct told her that it was way after midday. She heard Kayla’s joyful laughter outside, and she guessed the little girl was in the swimming pool, probably with her father, who was diligently teaching her how to swim. Jack had had a childproof fence built around the pool sometime during her absence, another one of those preparations he’d made in anticipation of a child he’d had no idea if he’d ever meet.

Alice sat up shakily, feeling refreshed yet strangely hollow. She felt like someone who’d had a long and desperately needed sleep after the death of a loved one, only to wake up to the discovery that even though life would go on, it would be forever marred by the tragedy of loss. She could not remember the last time she had slept so soundly, possibly that last night before leaving Jack two years ago; she certainly had not had much peace of mind since then. She got up and made her way to the bathroom, trying not to think of the night before. She wasn’t sure what any of it had signified and definitely wasn’t sure where it left her and Jack.

She made her way downstairs a little over half an hour later, wearing a pair of faded jeans and an old T-shirt. The clothes were from her old wardrobe and were too baggy on her. Alice resolved to eat even more, still feeling incredibly unattractive because of her thinness.

When she reached the living room, she stood at the open patio doors staring out at the pair in the water for the longest time, feeling ambivalent about the obvious enjoyment they seemed to find in each other’s company. She felt a little left out and again bitter toward Jack for allowing this to happen to them. She was about to turn away and head in search of something to eat when Jack glanced up and caught sight of her. She could not see his expression because of the sun’s glare off the water, but he went strangely still before heading toward the side of the pool and depositing a protesting Kayla on the paving before heaving himself out alongside her.

“Daddy more swim . . .” the child was protesting, but he was watching Alice and did not see her display of temper. Alice watched in amazement as the little girl impatiently patted her father on his leg and made a clumsy sign that Alice knew signified “daddy” or “father.” Alice was familiar with it because she had been meaning to teach her daughter the word in sign language. Jack looked down at his precocious offspring and grinned when she said “daddy” with one of her chubby hands again before making swimming gestures.

“Later, baby,” he laughingly promised, picking her up and depositing her on his wide, Alicezed shoulders. “First we’ll have some lunch with your mummy.” The child looked up and noticed Alice for the first time. The delight on her little face warmed Alice’s heart. Jack had pretty much monopolized the little girl’s time since their arrival eleven days ago. And while he sometimes seemed at a loss as to how to deal with Kayla, he was muddling through without asking Alice for any assistance. It concerned her that he seemed so able around the child. She worried that he might start to wonder why he needed Alice around at all. Now that she was feeling healthier, she vowed to spend more time with the little girl whom she had missed so much. She wouldn’t allow Jack to usurp her so completely any longer.

Jack made his way toward her, and she stepped onto the patio, relishing the feel of the hot, early autumn sun on her face. She picked up a bright-pink beach towel adorned with characters from Disney’s Finding Nemo cartoon and held it up as he deposited the happily chattering little girl into Alice’s arms. She wrapped the towel around Kayla and hugged her small body close. Her daughter was bubbling on about swimming, her daddy, and various other concerns that were of great importance to any nearly nineteen-month-old little girl. Alice nodded and made the appropriate noises, but she was preoccupied with Jack, whose eyes were sweeping over her from top to bottom, making her feel naked and vulnerable.

“How do you feel?” he asked quietly, and she shrugged, managing a slight smile.

“Well rested.”

He nodded at her reply but seemed at a loss for words.

“I hope you’re hungry. You’re just in time for lunch,” he said, gesturing toward the glass-and-wrought-iron patio table situated close to the huge stone barbeque at the other end of the large patio. Celeste was just laying out what looked like a delicious lunch. The older woman, always one of few words, flashed them a smile and retreated with a nod.

“I’m famished.” She nodded and headed toward the table, depositing a still-prattling Kayla into her high chair and placing the provided plastic bowl and plastic spoon onto the surface in front of the toddler.

“She’s a messy eater,” Jack pointed out with a wince, and Alice grinned, realizing that he must have discovered that particular trait the hard way. Most of Kayla’s meals seemed to wind up all over herself and anybody else in the general vicinity, but the little girl obdurately refused to allow anybody to feed her, insisting that she could do it herself. It was a stubborn streak that she had inherited from her father, and Alice wished that she had been there to witness that particular battle of wills firsthand. It must have been a novelty for Jack to discover someone as hardheaded as himself, especially someone as tiny as Mikayla.

“I know.” Alice smiled. “She rejects any attempt to help feed her. I usually give her extra portions in the hopes that she manages to get as much of it into her mouth as she does all over everything else. But sometimes I have to take the bull by the horns and feed her myself anyway, despite her fervent protests.”

“She is also inordinately fond of ice cream,” he pointed out with a grimace, seeming to recall something particularly unpleasant.

“I’m guessing you discovered one of her favorite pastimes?”

“Finger painting?” He nodded and she laughed.

“Unfortunately ice cream, especially chocolate, seems to be her favorite medium,” Alice said solemnly.

“I thought Celeste would quit after Kayla demonstrated her talent on the kitchen walls, but luckily she seems to have the patience of a saint.”

“I hope that you reprimanded Kayla?” Alice asked with a frown, and he shook his head.

“She seemed so proud of her painting,” he responded, and Alice sighed before shaking her head.

“She’s testing you,” she informed. “She knows better than to mess on the walls, she wouldn’t dare do it at ho—” She halted, knowing that the word home would be a mistake and not wanting to destroy the fragile peace between them. “She wouldn’t have done that in our old flat. She wants to see how much she’ll be able to get away with here. You’ve got to be firm with her, Jack. Don’t let her take advantage of you.”

“I wouldn’t know how to go about reprimanding her,” he offered quietly. “I haven’t had much practice at this fatherhood business. I want her to like me.” Judging from the pained look on his face, it grated to admit as much and she bit her lip, unsure how to respond without rekindling hostilities.

“I can guarantee,” she began reluctantly, not really wanting to help him with this but knowing that it was in Kayla’s best interests, “that she loves you already, Jack. She won’t like it if you raise your voice to her, she may even shed a few fake little tears, but she’ll get over it. You’re as much of an authority figure to her as I am now, and she has to get used to that. We’re here to teach her right from wrong. If we don’t she’ll become a spoiled brat. And while a bit of spoiling never hurt anyone, I would not want her to become intolerable.” He was paying close attention to her mouth, and Alice was careful to enunciate clearly and slowly.

“It makes sense, I suppose,” he said. “I’ll try to be a little less indulgent, but it’s still such a treat for me to give her things and spoil her a bit.”

“That’s understandable.” Alice nodded. “You’ll get over it soon enough, once the novelty wears off and she becomes bratty.”

“She’ll never be that bratty.” He grinned before becoming quite serious. “You did a good job with her, Alice.”

“Uh . . .” The compliment was as unexpected as it was flattering, and Alice had no idea how to respond to it. “Thank you.” She could not read his mood at all and wondered if she could trust what seemed to be an armed and uneasy truce. She bent her head and focused on her food. The cook had prepared a light lunch of crispy fried filleted hake—a delicious Cape game fish—herbed baby potatoes, and steamed fresh vegetables. Her mouth fairly watered at the sight of it. She checked Kayla’s bowl and was gratified to note that the little girl’s vegetables had been mashed into manageable chunks. Kayla had already started digging in with her chubby little fingers, and Jack groaned when she proceeded to lift her fist to her mouth and suck the food off it.

“Mummy.” She picked up a piece of fish between two grubby fingers and held it up to her mother. “Hmm nice . . . Mummy . . .”

“I already have food, Kayla. See?” she pointed out, lifting a fork with some fish speared onto the tines. Kayla dropped the fish back into her bowl and lifted her plastic spoon and attempted to imitate her mother. When the fish kept falling back into the bowl, she glared and tossed the spoon aside in frustration before resorting to using her hands again. Alice put aside her own utensils and lifted the plastic spoon, firmly placing it back into her daughter’s hands.

“Use the spoon, Mikayla,” she ordered firmly, but the little girl shook her head mutinously.

“No ’poon, Mummy,” the child protested, tossing it aside again the moment her mother let her hand go.

“Kayla, I’m not going to tell you again,” Alice warned, picking the spoon up and wrapping the child’s stubborn fingers around it. Jack watched the little power play unfold in fascination. Kayla, knowing how far she could push her mother, sulkily held on to the spoon and clumsily rooted around her bowl, messing about rather than actually attempting to eat. Alice ignored the recalcitrant child and quite deliberately went back to her own lunch.

Kayla was now scooping up spoonfuls of food and placing it in little mounds on the tray of the high chair in front of her. Alice finished off the last of her fish and sighed before dragging a wet wipe from the container Celeste had thoughtfully left within easy reach and wiping Kayla’s face and hands clean. She ignored the way the child tried to evade her attempts and after giving her face a thorough wipe, Alice lifted the squirming toddler out of the high chair and into her own lap. She grabbed Kayla’s bowl and spoon and very determinedly began spooning food into the protesting child’s mouth.