Wow.
His honesty and vulnerability sink some of my anger and resolve. That irritates me a bit, but I can’t help it much.
“In your defense—”
“No. This isn’t about defending me,” he says.
“Then from my perspective,” I say, “I can’t imagine how that déjà vu must’ve felt to you. And I had no idea you’d lost a child.” I frown. “That’s heartbreaking.”
He gazes into the distance. “It was a long time ago, but, yeah, that’s a hard one.”
We sit quietly, and I use the opportunity to study him.
He still has bags under his eyes, and his skin is ruddy. His hair is a bit longer than usual, but at least he’s shaved.
The most striking thing about him, though, is the clarity in his eyes. I feel like I could look right through him if I wanted to.
I hold on to the armrest and try to decide if this is a good time to tell him about the baby. We’ve both needed a little space to heal from the accident. Maybe we can talk about it now. Maybe we can come to some sort of agreement.
Or not.
I have to be prepared for either because I won’t beg him. I won’t beg a man to love me or my child.
My child.
Our child.
I grin.
I imagine a little boy with Wade’s dimpled chin. I wonder if he’ll wear glasses like his dad or if he’ll have an interest in architecture.
Or maybe it’s a little girl, and she’ll have his wickedly green eyes and an eye for detail. She could be an amazing photographer. Or architect. Maybe she’ll want to follow in her daddy’s shoes.
My eyes blur, and I blink as fast as I can to suck the tears back into my body. I don’t know if that’s biologically possible, but it’s worth a shot.
“You know, I should’ve let you go with me,” I say. “I’m not saying that would’ve stopped anything from happening. And maybe things happen for a reason.” I press against my tummy. “But all I wanted while I sat in that huge house and listened to them”—I look into his eyes—“was you. I just wanted you.”
“I knew something was wrong,” he whispers. “I could feel it. I called you so many times. I was two seconds from calling your grandfather, which made me feel like a psycho, but I just knew.”
“Thank you for caring, Wade.”
He holds my gaze, and then, slowly, he reaches for me. I want to fall into his arms, but I don’t. I take his hand, give it a gentle squeeze, and then let it go.
“I’m going to be super honest with you,” he says.
“Okay. Please do.”
I hold my breath while he turns in his seat to face me. His eyes sparkle with an excitement that I can’t place. That I can’t name.
“I love you, Dara.”
What?
Whatever I expected him to say, it wasn’t this.
I laugh in disbelief. “You’re leading with that?”
He frowns. “That’s not the reaction I was hoping for.”
“I’m sorry. You threw me for a loop.” Because the last time you told me you loved me, you walked away.
“I love you, Dara Alden. And I want you to find someone who can take care of you. Who will give you all the things in the world that you want. But that guy isn’t me.”
But something in his expression is different this time. He doesn’t look as … forlorn.
I raise my eyebrows at him. He needs to use more words still.
“You’re lucky that I don’t throw you over my knee,” he says.
I give him a look. He shakes his head, unsure what to do.
“So, you love me, huh?” I ask. “In what way?”
My nails dig into the cloth of the furniture as I try to keep my hopes in check. Will it even matter in the long run? Sure, if he really does love me, it will help. But if he still doesn’t want children, then there’s not a lot I can do, and no amount of love will fix that.
“I want to …” He shrugs. “I want you in my life. I want you to be my partner. My wife. My best friend.” He scoots closer. “I never want to not have you by my side. I want to be your first call. I want people to know that you are Dara Mason, and they better not mess with you or I’ll come for them.”
You cannot suck tears back into your tear ducts.
They splash down my cheeks.
There is something very different in his expression, especially compared to the last time he eviscerated me with his proclamation of love. The last time, he was halfway out the door—terrified, sad, immovable in his rejection.
Now? Now he’s reaching into my heart, showing me it’s lovable and desired and wanted—providing the balm it has needed.
His love. His desire to stay.
A future. A refuge.
A family.