“You know what?” Will moved in closer so that only inches separated their bodies now. “You weren’t lying before; you aren’t on drugs. You’re just bat-shit crazy!”
“Shh!” Julianne pointed to the nursery.
“Oh no, Princess, you had your turn at psychoanalyzing me, now I get my shot. You gave yourself away when you looked at the window back there. You’ve got a bad case of thalassophobia.”
“Thala . . . lasso . . . what?”
“Fear of the ocean!”
Julianne tried to laugh, but it came out sounding brittle. “Wow, no wonder your head is so big; you’ve got a lot of useless knowledge up there if you can pull that word out. Really, when your football career dries up, you should seriously consider a stint on Jeopardy.”
“Oh, no. The more I consider this theory, the more it makes sense. You fainted when you looked out front—”
“I was hungry!”
“—and you were pretty out of it on Sea Island, where there’s an ocean right outside the hotel. It’s all starting to come together.”
“You really should consider wearing a helmet when you go out on the football field.”
Will snarled at her. “Oh yeah, that’s right. You don’t remember that evening on Sea Island.”
“That part really jacks up your ego, doesn’t it? There’s actually a woman who exists who can’t remember having sex with the great William the Conqueror.” Julianne knew she was taking a risk taunting him, but she’d rather he kiss her than delve into her fears.
He grabbed her arms and pulled her against his body. “Admit it, you’re afraid of the sea,” he demanded.
“Save your brute strength for another patient, Dr. Phil, because you’re way off base here.”
He seemed to be warring with something in his mind, and Julianne suddenly realized how vulnerable she was. “Will,” she breathed.
Will’s lips moved closer. “Say it, or I’ll make you say it.”
Julianne tried to pull back. She wasn’t frightened of Will, just scared of where they both might end up if this continued.
“Don’t.” She shook her head. “Please!”
“William!”
Annabeth’s voice cut through the heated air in the room. Will shook himself before quickly releasing Julianne. She took a step back, rubbing her arms as she did so.
Will’s face was once again unreadable. Annabeth’s, on the other hand, was horrified.
Julianne needed to get away from these people before she fainted again. Will wasn’t the type to let it go, though, so she decided to just come clean. It wasn’t a state secret, anyway.
“I’m not afraid of the ocean,” she hissed. “My mother drowned at sea. It makes me uncomfortable to be near one, that’s all. I’m not afraid of anything. Especially not you!”
She stepped through the bathroom into the nursery, closing and locking the door behind her.
Eleven
Will woke to the sound of a baby crying. It took him a moment to get his bearings. He glanced at the clock:
2:46
Owen had eaten a little before midnight, not that Will had been allowed to feed him. His mother, who was supposed to be on his side, kicked him out of the house right after interrupting them in Julianne’s bedroom.
“You will not bully that woman,” she’d said, pinching his ear between her fingers, much as she’d done when he was five. He was ashamed to say it still hurt. “You don’t have to trust her. You don’t have to even like her, but you will be civil to her.”
She’d shoved him out the back door, telling him to go find Gavin and not to come back until he’d cooled off. What his mother didn’t realize was that with Julianne living under the same roof, it was impossible for him to cool off. He’d accused her of being crazy, but really, it was Will who was nuts. Julianne made him that way. He felt guilty about the way he’d treated her earlier, but it was either bully her or toss her over his shoulder and give her an instant replay of their night on Sea Island—one she wouldn’t forget. The fact that she didn’t seem remotely interested frustrated him even more.
Owen was wailing now, and Will could hear Julianne shushing him in the kitchen. Sliding out of bed, he grabbed for a T-shirt to pull on with his gym shorts. He padded down the stairs in bare feet, arriving in the semidark kitchen just as Julianne dropped the plastic bottle on the floor. She unleashed an Italian curse.
Will almost swore himself at the scene before him. Julianne was wearing a long, flowing, sleeveless nightgown, the under-counter lighting leaving nothing to the imagination as to what was—or wasn’t—beneath. Like his, her feet were bare, except her toenails were adorned with bright pink polish. Her hair was wild, curling around her shoulders, Owen’s fist clenching a good chunk of it.
“Oww!” she cried as she tried to retrieve the bottle without dropping him. “Let go!”
Owen only screamed louder. Will bent down and grabbed the bottle, popping it into Owen’s mouth so he’d stop crying. The baby took a few gusty breaths before latching onto the nipple and guzzling. Julianne tried to pry her hair loose from Owen’s grip, but he seemed reluctant to let go of his mother. Will passed her the bottle and tried to work the baby’s fingers free.
“He’s got strong hands. He’ll make a great defensive player one day,” Will joked so as not to fixate on the silkiness of Julianne’s hair as he gently pulled it out of Owen’s now-relaxed hand.
“Thanks.”
The quiet of the house settled over them, the humming refrigerator and Owen’s suckling the only sounds in the night. Will was a bit shaken by the intimacy of the moment. He and Julianne stood, their bare feet nearly touching, with only their son between their bodies. Owen, who would forever link them together, closed his eyes in bliss as he drained the bottle. Will brushed a thumb over the baby’s head, and Owen propped open an eye at him before closing it again. Will looked up into Julianne’s eyes. They were red rimmed and swollen behind her smudged glasses. Had he done that to her?
Guilt weighed on him as he pulled a chair out from the kitchen table. “You’re dead on your feet. Sit.”
Julianne slid into the chair with a sigh, her body giving a little shake as she shifted Owen to a more comfortable position. Will went into the great room to grab a blanket off the sofa. Julianne’s eyes were drifting shut as he wrapped it around her shoulders. He poured her a glass of water and pulled a lemon bar from the container Gavin’s mom had given him earlier, placing the snack on a paper towel.
“When was the last time you ate or drank anything?” he asked as he set the water and lemon bar on the table beside her.
She glanced up, her eyes struggling to focus.
Will pulled another chair forward with his foot as he reached for Owen. “Gimme. You eat.”
Julianne didn’t resist, carefully transferring the baby into his arms. She picked at a piece of the lemon bar. “All you had to do was ask; you don’t need to bribe me to hold your son.”
“You’ll thank me when you taste it.”
She arched an eyebrow at him before popping the morsel into her mouth. Her eyes slid shut as she swallowed. “Mmmm. Where did you get this?” She tore off a larger piece and put it in her mouth.
“My other mother made them.”
Julianne wrapped the blanket around her more tightly. “You have more than one mother?”
“Uh-huh.” He pulled the bottle from Owen’s mouth and lifted him over his shoulder, gently rubbing his back. “Growing up, I practically lived at my friend Gavin’s house. There are five kids in the McAlister family, so one more wasn’t a stretch for them. My mom worked a lot. It was a place to go when no one was home. Mrs. McAlister, Patricia, is dying to get her hands on this little guy.” Owen burped, and Will returned him to the cradle of his arms, gently prodding the bottle back into his mouth. The baby’s eyes rolled back in his head as he began to suckle again. “I told her to give you a few days first to get acclimated before she descends on us.”