What Makes A Father. Teresa Southwick

He had finished off his second piece of chicken and half a helping of the macaroni. Now he spooned salad onto his plate and started on that.

      Annie pushed the food around hers. Talking about herself made her appetite disappear. “We’re developing an advertising package and bid for a very large and well-known company. I won’t jinx it by telling you who. But if we get it, my workload could increase significantly and that would mean meetings in the office.” She speared a piece of lettuce with her fork, a little more forcefully than necessary. “And the twins don’t really have much to add to the discussion yet.”

      “What are you going to do?”

      “I’m planning to cross that bridge if and when it needs crossing.”

      She put a brave and confident note in her voice because she didn’t feel especially brave or confident. Leaving her babies with a trusted friend who bailed her out in an emergency was one thing. Turning them over to a stranger, even a seasoned child-care professional who’d passed a thorough background check was something she dreaded.

      “It’s really something,” he said. “Taking in two infants.”

      “How could I not?” Annie swallowed the lump of emotion in her throat. “Their mother was my sister.”

      “Still, I know people who wouldn’t do it. You and Jessica must have been close.”

      “We were. She was always there for me. No matter what—” Unexpectedly, tears filled her eyes and Annie didn’t want him to see.

      She stood, picked up her plate and turned away before walking over to the sink. She felt more than heard Mason come up behind her. Warmth from his body and the subtle scent of his aftershave surrounded her in a really nice way.

      “Annie, if I haven’t said it already, I’m very sorry for your loss.”

      “That’s exactly what her doctor said to me when he told me she was dead. Is there a class in med school on how to break bad news to loved ones?”

      “No. Unfortunately, it’s just experience. The kind no doctor wants to get.”

      It had been three months since Jess died. Annie had thought she was out of tears and didn’t want to show weakness in front of this man. Maybe because he was the babies’ biological father and had a stronger and more intimate connection to them than she did. The reason didn’t matter because she couldn’t hold back her shaky breaths any more than she could hide the silent sobs that shook her whole body.

      The next thing she knew, his big, strong hands settled gently on her upper arms and he turned her toward him, pulled her against his chest in a comforting embrace. He didn’t say anything, just held her. It felt nice. And safe.

      That was a feeling Annie had very little experience with in her life. Odd that it came from a relative stranger. Maybe Jess had felt it, too.

      Annie got her emotions under control and took a step back. She was embarrassed and couldn’t quite meet his gaze. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”

      “Don’t be.”

      She shrugged. “Can’t help it. I don’t know why I broke down now. It’s not a fresh reality.”

      “Maybe you haven’t had time to grieve. What with suddenly being responsible for two babies.”

      That actually made a lot of sense to her. “Anyway, thanks.”

      “You’re welcome. I hope it helped.” He looked like he sincerely meant that. Apparently the business of helping people was the right one for him.

      “Speaking of those babies, I’m going to check on them. It’s not their habit to be so quiet and cooperative when I’m having a meal.” The first one with their father, she noted.

      “You cooked, so I’ll do the dishes.”

      “Cook is a very nebulous term for the way I warmed up leftovers. But I’m taking that deal,” she agreed.

      The best one she’d had in a long time. She went to the “nursery” and found Charlie and Sarah awake and playing. Standing where they couldn’t see her, she watched them exploring fingers and feet and smiling at each other.

      Her heart was so full of love for these two tiny humans that it hurt, and was something she experienced daily. But having a man in her kitchen doing dishes didn’t happen on a regular basis.

      She found herself actually liking Mason Blackburne. So far. But she hadn’t known him very long. There was still time for him to screw up and she had every confidence that he would.

      Men couldn’t seem to help themselves.

      Mason was feeding a bottle to Charlie when he heard footsteps coming up the outside stairs followed by the apartment door opening. Annie walked in and looked at him then glanced around.

      “Wow, it’s quiet in here. And really neat.” Was there the tiniest bit of envy in her expression? “I’m feeling a little inadequate because I can’t seem to manage two infants and an apartment without leaving a trail of debris and destruction in my wake.”

      “Oh, well, you know—”

      After several weeks of him visiting the babies every chance he could, she’d reluctantly accepted his offer to watch them while she went to her office for a meeting. He wasn’t completely sure she hadn’t done a background check on him before agreeing. Fortunately he’d already passed the diaper-changing, bottle-feeding and burping tests. Still, Annie had been very obviously conflicted about walking out the door and leaving him in charge. He’d assured her there was nothing to worry about and shooed her off to work.

      She’d barely been gone five minutes before all hell had broken loose. Two code browns and a simultaneous red alert on the hunger front. His situational readiness went to DEFCON 1 and he’d done what he’d had to do.

      Glancing at the hallway then at her, he said, “I thought you’d be gone longer.”

      She walked over and kissed Charlie’s forehead. The scent of her skin wrapped around Mason as if she’d touched him, too, and he found himself wishing she had. The night she’d cried and he held her in his arms was never far from his mind. She’d felt good there, soft and sweet.

      “I stayed for the high points then ducked out of the meeting. I just missed my babies and didn’t want to be away from them any longer,” she said. “How did it go? Where’s Sarah?”

      At that moment his mother walked into the room holding the baby in question. Florence Blackburne was inching toward sixty but looked ten years younger. Her brown hair, straight and turned under just shy of her shoulders, was shot with highlights. He’d been about to tell Annie that he’d called her for help, but he was outed now.

      “You must be Annie. I’m Florence, Mason’s mother.”

      Annie’s hazel eyes opened wide when she looked at him. “I thought you said you could handle everything.”

      “When I said that, the ratio of adults to babies was one to one. And I did handle it,” he said defensively. “I called for reinforcements.” He set the bottle on the coffee table and lifted Charlie to his shoulder to coax a burp out of him. It came almost instantly, loud and with spit-up. “That’s my boy,” he said proudly.

      “Seriously?” she said.

      “Eventually he’ll learn to say excuse me.” Mason shrugged then returned to the subject of calling his mom. “I admit that I underestimated my multitasking abilities.”

      “Oh, please,” Flo said. “You just couldn’t stand that one of your children was unhappy.”

      “Yeah, there’s that,” he acknowledged.

      “Even though I told him that crying isn’t