Chapter Eleven
Three weeks later, Briony was surprised by how well Marco had taken to fatherhood. He didn't cancel meetings with heads of state to attend to his daughter, but he was around more often than she’d thought he would be.
Sometimes when she woke up in the morning, he would let Paz go for a few hours so he could feed Eva and play with her. When Eva cried, he comforted her, and when she needed to be changed, he took care of her.
Getting Marco used to nights with their daughter was a little harder, and that had more to do with Briony herself rather than either of them.
"I think I have learned enough to make sure she is safe and sound," Marco said with an impressive amount of earnestness and lurking humor. "I mean, if I can negotiate a multimillion dollar trade deal before lunch, I might be trusted to keep track of a baby who cannot walk yet."
"Those two skills actually have nothing to do with one another," Briony pointed out.
"If things go strangely, you'll be close," he said firmly. "Unless you have any actual disagreements, I think I am ready."
She knew he was, so around six in the evening, she bundled up a simple kit of essentials and slung Eva over her shoulder to make the trek to Marco's quarters. At her tentative knock, he opened the door wearing jeans and a sweatshirt that looked beautifully soft and worn. His smile was as bright as the sun.
"Let me hold her," he demanded, and she laughed as she passed their daughter into his arms.
"Are you going to be so eager when she cries if you put her down?" Briony teased.
"I have trouble setting her down at all," Marco retorted. "It's so nice to have her close."
Eva gurgled with delight and leaned into him, bonking up on his nose with her forehead. Briony knew from long experience how that could sting, but Marco only laughed.
After she set down the bag, Marco brought Briony to the small room close to his bedroom, where an identical crib to the one in Briony's quarters had been set up. He showed her how he had the same supplies she did and told her there was nothing to worry about.
"I know there's not," she said.
She had seen Marco enough with Eva to trust him at this point. The problem was inside her.
What was she meant to be doing right now? In some ways, this felt a great deal like what separated parents did when they were handing off their children.
God, I'm too young to be those divorced people, she thought dismally, but here she was.
Before she could excuse herself, however, Marco juggled Eva to one shoulder and took her hand.
"Why don't you stay for a while?" he asked. "I've not had dinner yet, and we could send to the kitchen for something."
"If you're sure..."
"Of course I am," he said with a smile. "I thought perhaps you might have made plans for your evening of freedom, but if you have not, I would like you to stay."
Not “we would like you to stay,” or “Eva would like you to stay,” Briony noticed.
"All right, I would like that too, I think..."
The evening passed by so quickly that later Briony half-wondered if witchcraft was involved. They fed themselves, and Briony watched as Marco fed Eva a bottle of warmed milk.
As they both watched over their tiny girl, Briony found the words coming easier than they ever had. She learned about Marco's family, distant even before they had died, and she found herself talking more about her childhood with Seanan, how she loved her sister, but sometimes the jealousy was intense.
"What in the world do you have to be jealous about?" Marco said, so befuddled that she laughed.
"Um, my sister is turning into a world-famous movie star. Don't you think that warrants some jealousy?"
"Not from you," he said simply, and she blushed.
The talk turned to other things, to her relief. Her meeting her future coworkers at the university and his business deals were safe topics, as were movies and books, their favorite television shows, and where they wanted to travel.
When Eva started to fuss, Marco scooped her up close. "Time for bed, little one."
Briony knew this was a good time to excuse herself. Marco had never had all that much time alone with Eva, and he might want to put her to bed for the first time on his own.
Instead, she followed him to the nursery and watched from the doorway as he prepared Eva for bed and tucked her in. He stood watching their daughter for a long time, and when he started to sing, it was so quiet that Briony thought she was imagining it at first.
For some reason, she could feel tears prickle briefly at the corner of her eyes. She stifled them down, wiping hard at her eyes. Why did she feel as if her heart was breaking? If Eva was going to have a father, this was the father that she wanted her to have.
She backed out of the room when Marco turned away, and she approved silently as he left the door cracked so he could hear any signs of distress. For a moment, they stood in the dim hallway, silently watching each other.
"I should go back to my own place," Briony murmured. She started to walk towards the door, but Marco caught her hand gently. That spark shot between them again, but by this time, she was almost ready for it. He would touch her, she would pull back, and he would do the same. They seemed to have tacitly agreed to ignore the attraction between them.
This time, however, she didn't pull away.
"Stay awhile," he said softly. "I've not had much chance to talk with you lately."
"We talked plenty before," she objected. "One thing about parents, we can grow surprisingly dull..."
"Then come be quiet with me," he said, and she surprised herself by nodding.
She had glimpsed his bedroom in passing. It was enormous with a bed at the very center of it. The bed was draped in black and gold, gleaming quietly and speaking of a sensuality that roused her. She had a momentary, guilty flash of what it might be like to be tumbled down in those sheets.
She was both relieved and disappointed when he led her past the bedroom back to the living room. Marco sprawled on the incredibly expensive couch as if it was nothing to him, and he gestured her to sit next to him. Once she was there, it was the most natural thing in the world to lean against him.
Their quiet together was perfect and gentle, soft with just an undercurrent of heat underneath it. His arm over her shoulder was a perfect weight that made her feel alert and sleepy by turns, and there was something about the smell of him that simply made her sigh.
"We're doing everything backwards," she after several long minutes. She wondered if he would be irritated by her breaking the silence, but he only raised an eyebrow at her.
"Oh?"
"First we met, we slept together, and then we had a baby. Now we're...sharing custody, I guess? All without ever having had an affair or a relationship or being married..."
She sounded a little bitter, but she realized she wasn't angry. Marco looked at her with a surprisingly speculative glint in his eye. She started to ask what he was thinking when he spoke.
"Well, if you want to catch up on what we missed..."
She started to ask him what he meant by that, but then she gasped as he pulled her loosely into his arms. He didn't grab on to her, he didn't make her feel trapped. Instead, he simply brought her close enough to dip his head down and kiss her.
There was nothing hurried about the kiss at all. There was only a deep and endless heat spreading between their bodies and enveloping them as his mouth explored hers. Instinctively, she suckled on his tongue, her hands coming up to curl around his shoulders. It felt like more than passion, however. It felt as if she was welcoming home a missing part of her, and she held on to him tighter.
"I have thought of this so often since we parted," Marco murmured, smoothing his kiss to her throat. "I have longed to feel you again, to bathe in the sweetness of your body..."
From anyone else, it would have sounded like a line. From Florence's playboy prince himself, it was perfect.
She threw her head back as he kissed her throat, lighting a line of fire as he went. She had misremembered how good he was at kissing her, or she had grown more sensitive in the year they had been apart. It felt like the more he kissed her, the more she needed to be kissed. Her hands roved over his back, and soon enough, she found the hem of his sweatshirt. She tugged it up to feel the smooth, muscled skin underneath, and when she raked her nails lightly up his back, she relished his shiver.
"Perfect, perfect girl," he crooned. "My little Velvet..."
It was that name that woke her up as nothing else ever could have. She went hot, and then she went cold, and suddenly she was just Briony again.
She tugged away from Marco so violently that she nearly landed on the floor. She might have if he hadn't steadied her.
"Briony, what's the matter?"
"I...I need to go," she murmured. "I need to go back to my own quarters."
She started to move, but he wrapped his hand around hers, holding her still. "Please. I can't let you go when you're like this..."
"This isn't me," she said helplessly. "I can't be.... I'm not Velvet, and that's who I act like when I'm with you like this. I'm just Briony. I need to be Briony."
She thought she saw understanding in his eyes, but then she tugged her arm away from him. Her steps quickened as she made it to the door, and then she was nearly running as she made her way back to her rooms.
She checked the crib before she remembered Eva was with Marco, and for some reason, that made the tears run hot down her cheeks.
"Oh god, I'm a mess," she whimpered.
She showered and changed into her oldest, most comfortable pajamas. She curled up in bed, and though she drifted off quickly, she dreamed all night of hearing Marco's step in the hallway, coming to find her, coming to touch her again and to bring that heat back to her spirit...