“Absolutely.”
“Okay then.” She blinked back the tears, nodding, peace rushing through her for the first time since she’d walked away from that pool. “We’re getting married.”
“On schedule.” His tone left no room for misunderstanding.
“Yes.” She laughed at her stubborn man, but then she was stubborn, too, just subtler about it. Luckily, they wanted the same thing. “On schedule. As soon as possible, I want to be your wife, wearing your ring and sharing our lives.”
He sealed their promise with a kiss, one that mingled all the textures of their feelings for each other. Friendship. Passion. Constancy. And before she finished her thought, he eased his mouth away.
He rested his forehead against hers. “Our children will come around and we will help them through the tough times life brings. Like now. We just need to be here to listen, support them, help if the opening arises. Jeannie, they will come around,” he repeated.
“I think so, too.”
And in that beautiful truth, she realized that even though they hadn’t borne children together, they would celebrate and enjoy grandchildren together. In fact, they’d already welcomed their first. A precious, innocent life that had helped bring them all together.
Their beautiful future stretched out before her, a future full of family and love.
* * *
Fleur wasn’t his daughter.
Glenna was walking away again.
Considering flying back to the cabin to lick his wounds, Broderick leaned on the dock railing at the Steele family compound, his coat zipped up tight and his Stetson holding firm in spite of the wind whipping off the water. Chunky bits of ice floated in the private bay, leaving spiky shards in their wake, much like the emotions inside him.
Once the doctor had called Glenna, making it clear she was the one with legal rights to Fleur, Broderick hadn’t been able to stand around idle with his world crashing down on him. He’d pushed back the roaring denial and passed the baby over to Shana.
Then he’d made a hasty as hell retreat out of there.
He should be relieved to resume his old life before things had gone haywire. Before his reunion with Glenna. Before a certain infant had wriggled her way into his heart. But he wasn’t relieved. Somewhere along the way, he’d grown to enjoy—deeply—that pattern at the cabin.
What he’d found with Glenna and Fleur had become about more than settling family drama. He wanted Glenna and Fleur in his life. Because damn it all, he couldn’t deny the truth. They were firmly lodged in his heart.
And he didn’t have a clue what to do next. Because he’d heard the pain and betrayal in Glenna’s voice when she’d said, “Gage is Fleur’s father.”
He’d seen just as clearly in her eyes that she was crushed over this new infidelity from her now deceased husband, even though she loved the baby. There was no way Glenna would have faith in a man after the way that bastard had abused her trust.
So Broderick had left, giving her the space she would need to process her grief, with the support of her sister-in-law.
He gripped the dock railing until splinters pushed through his gloves. Normally, a dose of the outside world was a remedy for him. But as the cold wind pushed against his face, he felt an answering coldness rise deep within his chest.
A sharp inhalation burst through his lungs. Breath had become hard. He’d hated the look of utter betrayal on Glenna’s normally composed face. He couldn’t protect her from the truth any more than he could make Fleur his biological daughter.
He tried to stabilize his world. Another gust of wind pushed on his chest, threatening to take his Stetson on a journey toward the bobbing seaplane in the nearby bay. Hands flying fast to his head, he pushed the hat back down. Took another breath and then let it go toward the tall, sturdy mountains in the distance.
Everything had changed in the span of one sentence. His shoulders sagged under the weight of it all. He felt a hand touch his shoulder. He knew without turning.
Glenna.
Somehow, she’d already come to him, only a couple hours after he’d left the doctor’s office. Her hand slid away and she stepped beside him, leaning on the railing. Her purple parka was zipped up tight, the hood on her head. Hints of hair blew from the side.
His throat raw from the wind and emotion, he asked, “Where’s Fleur?”
She gestured toward the mansion on the hilltop. “Your family is watching her, and Kota, too.”
“Good, that’s good.” He nodded tightly. “Why are you here?”
“I wanted to check on you. You left so quickly we didn’t have a chance to speak.”
“What more is there to say? You can’t tell me you aren’t in full retreat mode. So why are you here?”