As the shame began to wear off, so did my temper. Without it, I was left utterly drained. I nearly asked Jonathan’s driver to turn around and take me home, but there was something in the stiff, nervous way Jonathan held himself which made me hold my tongue.

He didn’t speak a word for the full half hour, and I did not have the strength or the will to break the silence on my own. James kept the center window firmly up, as if silently bowing out of the tension in the back seat. I had never been more relieved about arriving at a place as I was when we turned onto Jonathan’s long, winding driveway.

James opened both of our doors, then drove away onto the grounds. From my previous visits, I knew that the massive garage was about a quarter mile south of the main house, the first of many outbuildings. The house itself stretched so far to the left and right that I couldn’t see the edges in the dark. The concrete pillars at the top of the wide marble staircase were wrapped in browning vines.

Jonathan offered his arm for the climb up the stairs and I took it out of practicality; my balance hadn’t been the same lately, and I had a bad habit of missing steps and running into things.

I deliberately and aggressively ignored the way my pulse quickened when I touched him, determined to remain just angry enough to keep my defenses up.

Life had begun to feel like one incredibly long, drawn-out heartbreak, and I simply didn’t have the strength to take another one. Whatever Jonathan wanted to show me or tell me would fall on emotionless ears, to be considered rationally in the calculating part of my brain. That seemed to be Jonathan’s tactic, and it appeared to work for him.

In the foyer, he took his suit jacket off my shoulders and hung it on the extravagant, gold coat rack. I assumed his staff was off the clock by now, a suspicion confirmed by the tomb-like quiet which permeated the palatial house. Offering his arm once more, he led me up the wide curve of the main stairway to the second floor.

I had been there a dozen times in the first month we were together, and I knew this hall well; it led directly to his own bedroom. I gave him the benefit of the doubt for a moment, expecting him to turn off into one of the other many doorways, but he just continued on. When we had passed the last door before his own, I dug in my heels.

“Jonathan, I’m not just going to jump back into bed with you,” I told him, drawing on the last dregs of my temper. “Did you really think that was going to work?”

“No,” he said, casting me an almost haunted look. “Please trust me, Kaley.”

That word again. In all the time I had known him, I had only heard him say “please” four times, all of them in the last hour.

I followed him on that merit alone, and that faith paid off. When we reached his door, he turned away from it, opening the door directly across the hall from it instead. It was dark, but I let him lead me into it regardless.

Then, he switched on the light.

“Oh my goodness,” I breathed, gazing around the room. “This has got to be…this is…oh, this is the most magical nursery I’ve ever seen!” I stepped past him, taking it all in.

The centerpiece of the room was a luxurious circular crib topped with a gauzy canopy. A pair of soft, cushioned rocking chairs sat on either side, hinting at the extent of his co-parenting intentions. In one corner was a reading nook; it was made of a velvet, crescent-shaped seat with a ledge around the outside, and had a jungle tree-themed lamp drooping over the top with a curious monkey hanging down from it. The base and sides were built of bookcases which were already stocked with dozens of picture books.

The nook could easily hold two adults and a baby comfortably. I opened the double folding doors of the closet to reveal the most meticulously organized collection of baby supplies I had ever seen in my life, making a bubble of happiness rise up in my chest.

The other side of the room was exclusively for toys. A massive, colorful rug spread across the floor, decorated with letters, numbers, and animals. Bins and short stacks of shelves lined the three walls, full to bursting with all kinds of magnificent toys. Floor toys intended for very young babies were already arranged on the carpet, and stuffed animals crowded into little hammocks in two corners.

I was so enthralled by the nursery itself that I almost didn’t notice when Jonathan walked over to a toy bin.

“I made this when I was ten,” he said quietly.

I turned to look at him. He was holding a soft toy monkey with accordion arms and legs who was wearing a baseball cap and a red felt heart on his chest. Jonathan rubbed his thumb over the heart a few times, then met my eyes.

“Every toy in here, I made myself. I spent all my time at the company after my mother died, learning the trade from the ground up and making a nuisance of myself. I don’t think anyone really minded, though,” he added quietly, looking down at the monkey again.

“Because, you see…they knew. They knew about my mother dying, but so did the public. Apparently, she was iconic to homemakers at the time, and there was widespread mourning after she passed. But they also knew the rest.”

Jonathan tossed the toy back in the bin and sat down in one of the rocking chairs, propping his chin in his hands. He looked suddenly small and lost, like a child in a strange place. It moved me. I sat across from him, silent but open, giving him space to continue.

“My father,” Jonathan began, but his voice broke.

He cleared his throat and shook his head, then rubbed a firm hand over his mouth.

“My father should never have had children. His…” Jonathan sighed heavily, as if forcing the story out from a deeply embedded lock box in his mind.

“His good nature was a front. He would turn it on for the cameras, for the customers, for anyone who needed to believe the lie in order to give him what he wanted. But he was cold to his core. Money was the only thing he cared about. He closed a business deal from a satellite phone during my mother’s funeral, if that gives you any idea.

“He didn’t know what the hell to do with me after my mom died. He managed my life from a distance, the same way he managed the company. Delegate, delegate, delegate. James would take me to school, Mrs. Collins would feed me and help me with my homework. As for the rest, it was up to me. I had to know my own schedule by heart, get myself up and ready every morning, tuck myself in at a reasonable hour every night. I wasn’t very good at it, at first.”

My heart was hurting, and I ached to reach out to him. I compromised with myself, holding my hands and loosening my tongue.

“It’s astonishing to me,” I said quietly, and he shot me a questioning look.

“It’s astonishing that even here, in a house with its own staff, with virtually unlimited resources, that a kid could still be left to fend for himself. I was older than you were when my mom left, and my dad did try his best to help me, but life was still a terrible struggle. I’m sorry you went through that.”

His eyes glistened wetly, and he sniffed.

“Thank you. I’m sorry you went through that, but I’m glad that you can relate. Anyway, the point is, my dad never made a connection with me. My connection with my mother was severed by forces beyond her control when I was ten. The staff cared for me, but there was always a divide. A wall of money, sealed with status.

“I spent so many years isolated like that, and I…I still don’t know how to make a connection, and frankly, I’m afraid to try. The one time my father and I bonded over anything was when he was teaching me how to be an effective CEO in the year before his death. Even then, he saw me as an asset more than a person, an employee more than a son.”

Jonathan turned and stroked the soft lace on the side of the crib, swallowing against the tears which refused to be subdued. A single droplet trickled down his cheek and he rubbed it away forcefully. I wanted to hold him and let him cry, but I could see that he had more to say.

“Did you have friends?” I asked him carefully.

“Oh, yeah,” he said with a scornful laugh. “My wallet had plenty of friends. I had a ridiculously high allowance because the old man couldn’t be bothered to remember birthdays or Christmas presents. He threw a grand Christmas party every year for the company; he just didn’t pay attention to the small detail that was me.

“Since my mother’s death, I’ve never felt secure in my ability to express how I feel without having those feelings used against me. My father mocked me for feeling. My schoolmates would twist my feelings into something terrible and blackmail me with the result. It didn’t take me long to figure out how to play that game to win, but I would rather not have played at all.”

“That’s horrible,” I said sympathetically.

“It certainly had a horrible impact on me,” he agreed. “On how I treat people. Especially people I care about. Kaley…I am sorry, so very sorry, about the way I have treated you. You’re an incredible person, and you deserved so much better than what I had to offer. But when I look at you—in person, or on a giant billboard, or on TV—all I can see in my future is you.

“Your presence alone has a way of softening me. You exude that security that I’ve been missing for twenty-something years, but it’s more than that. You’re intelligent and witty and full of hope and drive. I ran out of hope a long time ago. I don’t know if I could go back to living without yours.”

He blinked rapidly, sending another single tear down his cheek. I leaned over before he could chase it away, and gently stroked it off of his face with my thumb.

“Look at me, Jonathan,” I ordered tenderly.

He looked up, miserable as a boy who had lost his dog.

“Before we go any further, I need to know one thing, and I need you to be honest. Tell me, please, exactly what you want.”

He choked on the words and lost control of his tears. I held his hand until he had brought himself back under control.

“I just want to be loved,” he whispered. He cleared his throat. “It was stupid, and terribly selfish, but my reasons for wanting this baby with you go far beyond good PR. I thought if I just had a baby, I would know unconditional love. Even if it was just for a short time, until they grew to despise me for whatever reason, I would at least have the memory of that love to keep me sane a while longer.”

“Then I have a confession to make,” I said nervously, holding both of his hands in mine now. “Jonathan…I’ve been in love with you for months. The pain of loving you, in this situation, and not being able to express it, was driving me insane. That was what I couldn’t live with.”

He exhaled, then, curling his body to rest his forehead on the backs of my hands.

“Kaley,” he breathed. “Oh, Kaley.”

He raised his head again, his cheeks freshly wet.

“I can’t look into the future and not see you by my side. I can’t picture parenting this child any other way but together. I don’t know how to be a dad, but I know how not to be a dad. You…you’re the quintessential mother. I know I screwed up, but I swear to you I’ll do better now. Will you stay with me?”

“Yes,” I said, crying my own tears now. “But you have to promise me one thing.”

“Anything,” he said, his voice sure.

“No more pretending.”

“I promise,” he agreed, a tiny, relieved smile smoothing the pained lines in his face. “No more pretending.”

I stood and pulled him out of his chair, then wrapped my arms around his neck. “Good,” I said, and kissed him.

It was the most real, passionate, emotional embrace I had ever experienced. The pretense was gone, and his soul was stripped naked in my arms.

As I parted my lips for him, my mother’s words floated back to me. Chase the passion, and everything else will fall into place.

A wise woman, my mother.