wouldn’t she have called me or my mother?” Her knees wobbled again as her gaze fell on the tiny infant. Isla? She had Rafe’s hairline—the curve of dark hair encroaching on the temples. But plenty of babies had that, didn’t they? “I would have helped her. I could have been there when the baby was born.”
“Who is Rafe?” Cameron asked.
She’d forgotten all about him.
Maresa gulped a breath. “My brother.” The very real possibility that Jaden was telling the truth threatened to level her. Rafe was in no position to be a father with the assorted symptoms he still battled. And financially? She was barely getting by supporting her family and paying some of Rafe’s staggering medical bills since he hadn’t been fully insured at the time.
“Look.” Jaden set a bright pink diaper bag down on the beach. Cartoon cats cartwheeled across the front. “My apartment is no place for a baby. You know that, right? I just took her because Trina showed up last night, begging me for help. I told her no, but told her she could spend the night. She took off while I was sleeping. But she left a note for you.” He looked as though he wanted to sort through the diaper bag to find it, but before he leaned down he held the baby out to Maresa. “Here. Take her.”
Maresa wasn’t even sure she’d made up her mind to do so when Jaden thrust the warm, precious weight into her arms. He was still talking about Trina seeming “unstable” ever since giving birth, but Maresa couldn’t follow his words with an infant in her arms. She felt stiff and awkward, but she was careful to support the squirming bundle, cradling the baby against her chest while Isla gurgled and kicked.
Maresa’s heart turned over. Melted.
Here, the junglelike landscaping blocked out the sun where the tree branches arced over the dirt path. The scent of green and growing things mingled with the sea breeze and a hint of baby shampoo.
“She’s a beauty,” Cameron observed over her shoulder. He had set Poppy on the ground so he could get closer to Isla and Maresa. “Are you okay holding her?”
“Fine,” she said automatically, not wanting to give her up. “Just...um...overwhelmed.”
Glancing up at him, she caught her breath at the expression on his face as he looked down at the child in her arms. She had thought he seemed different—kinder—toward Poppy. But that unguarded smile she’d seen for the Maltese was nothing compared to the warmth in his expression as he peered down at the baby.
If she didn’t know better—if she hadn’t seen him be rude and abrupt with perfectly nice hotel staffers—she would have guessed she caught him making silly faces at Isla. The little girl appeared thoroughly captivated.
“Here it is.” Jaden straightened, a piece of paper in his hand. “She left this for you along with some notes about the kid’s schedule.” He passed the papers to Cameron. “I’ve got to get going if I’m going to catch that ferry, Maresa. I only came out here because Trina gave me no choice, but I’ve got to get to work—”
“Seriously?” She had to work, too. But even as she was about to say as much, another voice in her head piped up. If Isla was really Rafe’s child, would she honestly want Jaden Torries in charge of the baby for another minute? The answer was a crystal clear absolutely not.
“Drop her off at social services if you don’t believe me.” Jaden shrugged. “I’ve got a rich old lady client paying a whole hell of a lot for me to paint her portrait at eight.” He checked his watch. “I’m outta here.”
And with that, her ex-fiancé walked away, his sandy-gold curls bouncing. Poppy barked again, clearly unimpressed.
Social services? Really?
“If only I had Poppy around three years ago when I got engaged to him,” she muttered darkly, hugging the baby tighter.
Cameron’s hand briefly found the small of her back as he watched the other man leave. He clutched the letter from Rafe’s former girlfriend—Isla’s mother.
“And yet you didn’t go through with the wedding. So you did just fine on your own.” Cameron glanced down at her, his hand lingering on her back for one heart-stopping moment before it drifted away again. “Want me to read the letter? Or would you like me to take Isla so you can do the honors?”
He held the paper out for her to decide.
She liked him better here—outside the hotel. He was less intimidating, for one thing.
For another? He was appealing to her in all the ways a man could. A dangerous feeling for her when she needed to be on her guard around him. He was a guest, for crying out loud. But she was out of her depth with this precious little girl in her arms and she didn’t know what she’d do if Cameron Holmes walked away from her right now. Having him there made her feel—if only for a moment—that she wasn’t totally alone.
“Actually, I’d be really grateful if you would read it.” She shook her head, tightening her hold on Isla. “I’m too nervous.”
Katrina—Trina—Blanchett had been Rafe’s girlfriend for about six months before the car accident. Maresa had never seen them together except for photos on social media of the two of them out playing on the beach or at the clubs. They’d seemed happy enough, but Rafe had told her on the phone it wasn’t serious. The night of the accident, in fact, the couple had gotten into an argument at a bar and Trina had stranded him there. Rafe had called their mother for a ride, something she’d been only too happy to provide even though it was late. She’d never had an MS attack while driving before.
Less than ten days after seeing Rafe in the hospital, Trina had told Maresa through tears that she couldn’t stand seeing him that way and it would be better for her to leave. At the time, Maresa had been too focused on Rafe’s prognosis to worry about his flighty girlfriend. If she’d taken more time to talk to the girl, might she have confided the pregnancy news that followed the breakup?
“Would you like to have a seat?” Cameron pointed toward a bench near the outdoor faucet where guests could rinse off their feet. “You look too pale.”
She nodded, certain she was pale. What was her mother going to say when she found out Rafe had a daughter? If he had a daughter. And Rafe? She couldn’t imagine how frustrated he would feel to have been left out of the whole experience. Then again, how frustrated would he feel knowing that he couldn’t care for his daughter the way he could have at one time?
Struggling to get her spinning thoughts under control, she allowed Cameron to guide her to the bench. Carefully, she lowered herself to sit with Isla, the baby blanket covering her lap since the kicking little girl had mostly freed herself of the swaddling. While she settled the baby, she noticed Cameron lift Poppy and towel her off a bit more before setting her down again. He double-checked the leash clip on her collar then took the seat beside Maresa.
“I’m ready,” she announced, needing to hear whatever Isla’s mother had to say.
Cameron unfolded the paper and read aloud. “‘Isla is Rafe’s daughter. I wasn’t with anyone else while we were together. I was afraid to tell him about her after the doctor said he’d be...’” Cameron hesitated for only a moment “‘...brain damaged. I know Rafe can’t take care of her, but his mother will love her, right? I can’t do this. I’m going to see my dad in Florida for a few weeks, but I’ll sign papers to give you custody. I’m sorry.”
Maresa listened to the silence following the words, her brain uncomprehending. How could the woman just take off and leave her baby—Rafe’s baby—with Jaden Torries while she traveled to Florida? Who did that? Trina wasn’t a kid—she was twenty-one when she’d dated Rafe. But she’d never had much family support, according to Rafe. Her mother was an alcoholic and her father had raised her, but he’d never paid her much attention.
A fierce surge of protectiveness swelled inside of Maresa. It was so strong she didn’t know where to put it all. But she knew for damn sure that she would protect little Isla—her niece—far better than