Silence No More

05. And his name is...

Translation: if you don't leave by the count of ten, I cannot be held responsible for my actions.

"What?" Patsy's eyes narrowed, and she hefted her steel-reinforced parasol. "You think you can chase us away?"

"Oh, I don't know." Thoughtfully, I tapped my chin. "Maybe you should leave."

"Lilly! You..." Patsy gave me a hurt look. "You really mean that?"

I grinned. "Well, naturally you should go. After all, I need someone to fetch..." My voice lowered and, leaning over to her, I whispered into her ear.

A moment passed, and her lips parted in a face-splitting grin. "Oh. I see. Well, yes, of course we should leave immediately. Come on, girls! Let's go!"

"But—"

"No arguments, Eve! Go, go, everyone! Chop chop!"

Like a flock of geese, Patsy chased the others out of the room. Satisfied, I folded my hands and leaned back into my comfy cushions, pretending to be completely ignorant of the suspicious stare sent my way by Mr Rikkard Ambrose.

"What did you tell her, Mrs Ambrose?"

"Me?" I batted my eyelashes. "Oh, just girl talk."

No need to tell him that Patsy was fetching a big pile of diapers so my dear husband wouldn't lack supplies when he attended to his son's bottom later on, right?

He opened his mouth to respond, but—

"Waaah! Wah waaah!"

One corner of my mouth quirked up. I glanced down at my baby, then looked back up at his father. "Seems like our son would prefer us to stop arguing."

"Or he wants to join in." Mr Ambrose very pointedly did not smile. But he couldn't hide the softening of his eyes. "Seems he takes after his mother."

For a long moment, beautiful silence reigned. I would have called it companionable—only, casual companions don't usually stare at each other like we did just then. Like we never wanted to let go. Then, as if by silent agreement, we looked down at the baby in my arms. The little tyke, which in his case probably was short for tycoon, seemed to notice the attention and giggled happily. It was a heavenly sound. Transfixed, I stared down at the shrivelled little potato that was my baby's face. I would fight anyone to the death who denied it was the most beautiful face in the world.

I swallowed. "We really have to find a suitable name for him, don't we? A wonderful one. He deserves it."

"Yes. Yes, he does."

"What?" I cocked an eyebrow. "An adequate one won't do?"

"No." The answer came instantly. Without the slightest hesitation. "Definitely not."

Warmth surged in my heart. Then I thoughtfully cocked my head. "Hm...a wonderful name..."

Before I could get out another syllable, he raised a warning finger. "Don't even think about it!"

"You haven't even let me finish!"

In response, I received a stern gaze. "I don't need to. Don't. Think. About. It."

"So...Qwerty is out of the question, then?"

He sent me another look. One of those looks.

"All right, all right!" I held up a hand in defeat. "I'll spend some more time browsing books then! After all, I can't do much more while I'm stuck in this be—" Suddenly I stopped and snapped my fingers. "Ah! I've got it!"

"What?"

I gave him a brilliant smile. "I've found the perfect name!"

"Really?" He cocked his head, clearly curious. "What is it?"