When Melanie’s face fell in disappointment, Sloane gave her a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “He’ll come around soon. Just give him time to get used to you.”
“But what am I doing wrong?” She turned confused eyes up to him.
“Absolutely nothing. Just be patient. He’ll be bouncing up and down on your knee in no time.”
Melanie nodded but her tiny sigh and the slight droop of her mouth told Sloane that the toddler's lack of interest really hurt. He guessed she was feeling sensitive, especially because she so badly wanted a child of her own.
“Hey, Thierry looks ready to play.” He pointed to the brown-haired boy throwing a tennis ball up into the branches of a tree, intent on hitting the bird’s nest there.
Melanie looked doubtful. “Yeah, but he’s four. Do you think he’s into hugs and kisses?”
“Definitely not,” Jacqueline said with a laugh, “but he loves playing catch and D’Jean’s too young. Why don’t you try that?”
“Ookaay.” Melanie dragged the word, looking even more uncertain, but she got up from where she was kneeling on the rug in the kitchen, crossed the patio and went out onto the lawn where Thierry was peering up into the leaves. When he saw her his eyes lit up and he pointed to the object of his interest, chattering excitedly, probably explaining what he’d been doing. When Melanie shook her head his face fell and the bright smile was replaced with a pout. Then he stalked off, climbed onto his tricycle and rode away, leaving Melanie looking depressed.
“Well, that went well,” Jacqueline said as she stroked D’Jean’s head.
Sloane laughed. “She’ll recover, but I probably need to give her some moral support right now.” He was still chuckling as he walked out the kitchen door and headed toward where Melanie stood staring up at the now abandoned bird nest. “Rejected by two men in a row,” he said under his breath, of course not loud enough for her to hear. “That must hurt.”
Despite the rough start, as Sloane had predicted, D’Jean grew more relaxed around Melanie with each passing minute and within the hour they were playing ball out on the lawn. Of course, the game had them doing nothing more than sitting on the grass, facing each other, rolling a melon-sized ball back and forth. From time to time Thierry would ride over and regard them with obvious disdain. Still, Melanie had a wide smile on her face as she played with the toddler and D’Jean, he was chortling with glee.
When Jacqueline called them in for dinner forty minutes later it was a smiling Melanie who came in, holding a babbling boy in her arms. And after she’d cleaned him up and then strapped him into his high chair, he raised his hands up to her, clearly preferring to be in her arms than over in a chair all by himself.
“Aaw, he wants to sit on my lap,” she cooed, obviously pleased that he wanted to be with her. She looked over at Jacqueline. “May I?”
“Now, now. You have to be strong.” Jacqueline shook her head but she was smiling. “Don’t be fooled by that innocent look. If you have him in your lap while you’re eating, before you know it all your food will end up on the floor. Trust me. I speak from experience.”
Melanie seemed to accept that but she still looked wistfully back at D’Jean, obviously enamored by his cherubic charm.
“What did I miss?” They all looked up as Patrick came into the dining room holding a tub of ice cream in one hand and a cake box in the other.
“Sorry I’m late. The guys wouldn’t let me leave the soccer game.”
“They wouldn’t let you leave or you couldn’t tear yourself away?” Jacqueline gave him a teasing glare. “Anyway, you made it just in time. Leave those on the counter and go clean up.”
After apologizing again to his visitors, Patrick went off to the powder room then deposited his gangly frame in the chair at the head of the table. “Cool,” he said, grinning like a little kid. “Fried chicken and corn on the cob. Looks so good I could eat it all.”
Jacqueline rolled her eyes but the glow in her cheeks made it obvious that she was pleased with his praise.
After that they settled down to a delicious dinner, with the children entertaining them with their chatter and Patrick giving them a detailed account of his performance on the soccer field – a far more detailed account than they would have wished, so much so that Sloane eventually cut him off midstream.
“Yeah, so you want to hear about my day?” he asked as he dipped up a spoon of pistachio ice cream.
“No, not really,” Patrick sneered.
“Okay, then.” Sloane gave him a pointed look and Patrick’s sheepish grin said he got the point.
“Oh, shut up and eat your ice cream,” he muttered under his breath, a rebellious smile forming on his lips.
Thierry gasped and his eyes grew wide. “Mommy, Daddy said a bad word.”
“Daddy.” Jacqueline’s brows fell.
Patrick shook his head. “They don’t hear you when you tell them to pick up their toys,” he grumbled, “but they always hear what they’re not supposed to.”
Jacqueline gave him a stern look. “Apologize.”
He sighed. “I’m sorry, Thierry. Daddy didn’t mean to use naughty words, okay?”
“Okay, Daddy.” Thierry, looking suitably appeased, picked up his spoon and began eating again.
Melanie looked on, obviously amused by the antics of Patrick and his family, and then her eyes took on a faraway look that told Sloane she was busy daydreaming about her own future family, one that would have at least one child, probably more.
He was just about to reach over and touch her hand, just to let her know he was privy to her thoughts, when the doorbell rang.
Jacqueline and Patrick glanced at each other, their looks quizzical.
“Are we expecting someone?” Patrick asked.
“Not me,” Jacqueline said with a shrug then she started to rise. “I’ll go see-”
“No, I’ll get it.” Patrick put up a hand, stopping her, then he got up from around the table. He glanced over at Sloane and Melanie. “Excuse me a minute.”
A few seconds later they heard the sounds of laughter and one of the voices was a woman's.