Chapter 30
“I CAN DO THIS,” Clare repeated to herself, pushing the double stroller toward her departure gate. “I can do this.” She’d already had second thoughts when the boys screamed halfway to the airport then again when she’d struggled to get them, the maxed-out diaper bag, and her rolling suitcase into the airport.
She’d used a good bit of her savings to buy three seats, but it was worth it to have her hands free. And boarding the first flight with two car seats and the diaper bag slipping off her shoulder, she’d provided comic relief for the passengers she passed. If only she had a dollar for every person that mentioned she had her hands full as they smiled sympathetically and did nothing to help.
But she’d made it and was actually thinking everything was going fairly well until Parker blew out his diaper during her layover in St. Paul.
She had exactly twenty minutes until her next flight finally began boarding after an hour delay. I can handle a blow-out. No problem.
She wheeled the stroller into the ladies’ room to assess the damage. One thing was for sure: Parker was not happy. She took him out of his car seat and looked around. She didn’t want to use the fold-down plastic changing table in this bathroom. Not after the article she’d read on public restroom changing tables. As if the thought of all the other bottoms lain here weren’t enough, the article reported cocaine residue found on over seventy percent of changing tables tested.
It would be a hell of a lot easier if she could lay him flat in the stroller. Of course that would mean taking out both attached car seats. With Parker over her shoulder, she managed to get his seat out with one hand. Just as she did so, she heard and felt him fill his already-full diaper then felt the damp heat of runny baby poop seep through her shirt.
“Poor baby,” she crooned, gritting her teeth and getting down to business. She got Parker and herself cleaned up—luckily she’d packed a spare top for herself in the diaper bag—all while Patrick’s screams bounced off the bathroom walls. It was as if he knew his brother had been rescued from the damnable straps of the car seat and was getting all the attention.
By the time she got to her gate, her calm was slipping.
“No, I’m sorry,” the desk agent told her. “That gate has been moved. It was announced over the intercom.”
Like I would have heard it—or understood the garble even if I had.
The agent tapped on her computer then gave a sad smile. “And I’m sorry, but that flight is already pushing back.”
Clare held a still-screaming Patrick to her shoulder.
“Let me check another flight for you.”
“Thank you.” Clare waited, trying to appease him with a pacifier. “Hang on, baby.” She’d planned to nurse on the plane. Her cell rang, and she answered it before she thought better of it.
“Hey,” Deacon said cheerfully.
“Hi.” She glanced at the desk agent, still tapping away at her keyboard.
“What’s wrong? Who’s making a fuss?”
An announcement was made over the intercom.
“Wait. Where are you?”
“Well, it was supposed to be a surprise. So…surprise. I’m at the airport. On my way to you. It’s not turning out the way I planned. Weather has grounded half the flights. We had a diaper blow-out, and I missed hearing there was a gate change.”
“Oh, honey.”
No doubt he could hear the babies screaming. “I hope it’s okay that we’re coming. Or trying to.”
“Are you kidding? Of course it’s okay. I might have to go in to work, but—”
“I know. It’s fine. We’ll be there when you get home.”
“I like the sound of that.”
So did she. The desk agent looked up, and Clare asked him to hold on while she received her sentence.
“Deacon?”
“I’m here.”
“Okay. Looks like I’ll be there around six if all goes as planned. Though that would be a first for today.” She tried to laugh, surprised she even could. But Deacon was on the other end of the phone, and that bolstered her. She wasn’t alone.
“I’ll be there to pick you up.”
“See you soon.”
* * *
FEELING HAPPIER THAN HE ever remembered, Deacon drove to the airport in light flurries. His girl was coming, with his boys. They would all be together.
He found her waiting at baggage claim, in jeans and a gray sweater. There was a spot of spit-up drying on her shoulder, and her hair fell in disarray around her face. But standing there, stepping from side to side with a squalling infant in her arms, he thought she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.
“Hey,” he said.
The tired smile that greeted him stopped his heart. He was in love with her. Absolutely. Completely.
“Hi. I wanted to surprise you.”
“Mission accomplished.” He pulled her into a kiss, claiming her right there in baggage claim. “I can’t believe you’re here.” He took the diaper bag from her shoulder and slung it over his own.
“If you watch them, I’ll get my bag.”
“I’ll come with you.” He pushed the stroller over to the bags just starting around the belt.
“Where are the girls?” Clare asked after they’d loaded babies and baggage into the car.
“My parents took them for an early dinner. We’ll probably be getting home about the same time.”
Clare smiled. “I can’t wait to see them.”
Deacon reached over and took her hand. “I can’t wait to see them see you.”
He squeezed her hand, and she squeezed back. And under a gray sky spitting bits of snow against the windshield, he drove them home.
* * *
CLARE TURNED FROM THE crib and two sleeping babies and saw Deacon in the doorway.
“Hey. My parents just texted that they’re taking the girls for ice cream.”
“Oh.”
He moved toward her, a sly half smile on his face. “Disappointed?”
“A little.”
“Guess you’ll just have to make do with me a little longer.”
“I guess I will.” And whatever would they do to pass the time?
He held out a hand. “Want to take a walk?”
“Sure.”
He hooked the baby monitor onto his belt, and they suited up in coats and hats.
With her hand in his, their feet crunched through the fresh flakes to the frozen layer beneath. They walked to the edge of his backyard, then went a little farther into the woods that lined the back of his property and separated it from a greenbelt.
“Oh, look. Tracks.” She pointed.
“Deer. We see them every now and then. Maybe they’re getting used to us. An older couple lived here before. They had salt licks out for them.”
She smiled at his handsome profile and linked her arm through his.
“My dog, Hugh, loved the snow,” Deacon said. “He’s buried right over there.” He nodded off to their left as they continued to walk.
“I’m sorry. You had him a long time?”
“Ten years. He died just after the girls were born. I might have gotten another dog, eventually, but I had my hands full. Then Cat showed up at our back door when the girls were about one. They’d just started talking, thus the name, Cat.”
They stopped under the shelter of evergreens. Tilting her head back, she looked up at branches drooping under the growing weight of white. The air was dry and crisp with cold. The snow softened the edges of everything, muted them, and being here in it muted her fears about the future.
When Deacon wrapped his arms around her, she pressed her nose into his neck. He had the best smell, a heady, masculine scent. It felt so right to snuggle deeper.
“Ahh. There it is,” he said as they stood there.
“What?”
“Silence. I was beginning to think it was just a myth.”
She grinned, then unable to be so close without kissing him, she stood on her toes, pressed her lips to his chin.
“You’re cold,” he said, rubbing his nose along hers.
“I don’t feel cold.” She felt warm and clear. His hands tenderly framed her face just before he skimmed his mouth over hers. She sighed softly and closed her eyes. It was surprising and pure as a first kiss, and she felt the fluttering deep in the pit of her stomach.
Just take a risk, she thought. Let go, and trust what you feel.
She was in love with him. She’d tried to hold back, but there was just no way, and she felt herself tremble with the knowledge.
He tilted her head, deepening the kiss, and headlights swept over them as a car pulled into the drive. The girls were home. And the silence was no more.
* * *
IT WAS HOURS BEFORE he and Clare got another quiet moment. When they sank together onto the couch, he slipped his arm around her, sighing when she relaxed into his side. He rested his cheek on the top of her head and thought, this. This is what I want every night. The gas logs were on low, spreading light and warmth to the room. Clare’s head was nestled on his shoulder, and the scent of her hair filled his nose. He sifted his fingers through the silky strands. “Tough day?”
“Eventful.”
“I know I said it already, but I’m really glad you’re here.”
Turning in the crook of his arm, she leaned in and kissed the side of his face. “Me, too.”
“I love you,” he said, just needing to say it again. Unable not to. He felt her swift inhale.
“Deacon.”
“No. Shh.” He put a finger over her lips. He didn’t want her to say something she wasn’t ready to say.
Her fingers circled his wrist, and she tugged his hand down. Her eyes shimmered with tears, and he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she was the love of his life. He’d already known it, but it grew. Every minute, every second.
“I missed you,” she finally said. “That’s why I’m here. Not because you sounded disappointed or because I wanted you to see the boys or because I missed the girls. I just missed you. So much.”
Drawing a finger down the side of her face, he smiled. “That’ll do.” With his hands tenderly framing her face, he gently, almost imperceptibly, skimmed his mouth over hers. Her mouth was hot, the flavor of her so sweet he ached.
Her slender fingers knotted in his shirt. His lips found hers again, and his mouth took hers like a starving man. Maybe he was. Within seconds, they were both breathless. Her hands slid up his chest and around to curl around his neck. He knew she wanted by the way her mouth responded to his, the throaty hum, and her delicate fingers tugging at his hair.
One hand roamed up her thigh and around her back. He growled low in his throat when he found soft, warm skin. It was pathetic how much he needed this woman, and he didn’t even care. He tore his mouth from hers.
“Upstairs.” He rose, taking her hand.
They made it halfway up the steps before he stopped, capturing her mouth again. Her taste sizzled through his blood like fire. He couldn’t get enough. Knew he never would. And also knew if she didn’t feel the same, it would break him.
His free hand stroked down her body, breast to thigh, stoking the fire between them. He wanted her just like this, desperate and quivering, right here against the wall. But that would be too quick, too fast. He pulled her up the rest of the stairs, made it to his bedroom, then closed and locked the door before moving to his bed. He’d only ever slept in it alone, although he’d dreamed of Clare so many nights.
She stood there in the middle of his room, waiting. He went to her, slipping his arms around her back and drawing her close. She was nervous—he could see it in the tense way she held herself and the almost-brutal way she bit her lower lip. Didn’t she know how utterly beautiful she was?
He tipped her face up, cupping it in his hands as his lips moved gently, slowly over her cheeks, her temples. He kissed her face, down her throat. “I want you so much I’m mad with it. As much as I did before. More.”
“You haven’t seen me yet.”
He smiled and led her to the bed. “We’re about to fix that.”
She sucked in a breath when he ran his hands down her sides to her waist and back up.
She was trembling. “Cold?”
“No. I love your hands on me.”
“Then we’re on the same page.” So did he, and when she lifted her arms to circle his neck, he tugged her sweater up and off, dropping it on the floor.
He laid her down and came over her, backing up his words with hands and lips, easing her fears until he heard her breath quicken. He took his mouth over her, tasting warm flesh, felt the small tremors and the pulse at the base of her throat. With quick, impatient hands, she tugged at the hem of his sweater, and he stripped it over his head.
“You take my breath,” he said, looking down at her. “I want to give you time to catch up. I do, but…” He cupped her waist, pulled her closer.
Her fingers slid up and into his hair, pulling his mouth down to meet hers. “I think I’m caught up.”
His hand moved slowly over her shoulder, down her chest, drawing out every touch. He wanted her right there with him, feeling only pleasure, her mind on nothing but him and the way he made her feel. And he would bind her to him.
He unclasped her bra, baring her to him. He laved and nuzzled her throat, again taking his time. He smiled when she tugged his face to her breast. He traced the top swell with the tip of his tongue. “You’re perfect. Absolutely.”
He palmed her breast, felt the weight, the beauty, and the miracle. He lowered his head and brushed his lips back and forth over the dark nipple reaching up for attention. He wanted to draw the hard bud into his mouth and suck, but not this time. He wanted her relaxed, wouldn’t have her going self-conscious on him.
He slid lower, and his lips followed, over her belly until he reached the waistband of her jeans. He unhooked the button, slid the zipper down, then guided her pants down her legs. “Nice,” he said, running his hands up, calf to thigh, teasing the edges of cotton underwear.
Her chest rose and fell with quick breaths of desire. “I don’t really wear lace. That was just a vacation thing.”
He didn’t stop or look up. “I don’t care. I care about getting them off.” And he did.
Then before she could draw the next breath, he pressed his hand between her legs. She was hot and wet, and everything about her drove him crazy. Face flushed and skin hot and sweet, she was passion personified.
In the dim light, her eyes were even darker, dazed. Mouth sought mouth, hands sought and found flesh. He wanted all of her, everything. Wanted to give her everything.
He drove her up and over the edge, watched her face tense and relax. Then he shed his jeans and tore off his boxers like they were on fire. Her legs parted for him in welcome, and he pushed inside. Slowly, ever so slowly, as she clung to his shoulders, nails biting into his skin.
“Okay?” he asked, afraid to hurt her.
“Yes.”
Gazing down at her face, he felt his heart pound like hammer blows. All the need and want, all the love rushed inside him. He pressed hands, palm to palm, to hers on either side of her head then curled his fingers through hers, linking them.
“Look at me.”
When her eyes met his, he began to move with a gentle, tortuous roll. Rocking together, they set a sensual rhythm. It was better than before. Because it was more than before. More between them. More to come.
He took her over the first rise, listened to her quick shallow breaths and the low moan as the orgasm pulsed through her.
She gasped his name, reached up and drew his head down, pulling him to her, pressing herself against him. On and on, drowning in sensation until he cried out with a strangled sound, an explosion of pleasure behind his eyes.
Then the world stopped, and he lost himself in Clare.
* * *
CLARE STOOD AT DEACON’S bedroom window, looking out at the morning light reflecting off the night’s fresh snow. With the clouds above and the snow below, the entire world appeared some shade of white. Nearly a foot of snow covered the ground below like a fluffy white comforter. It sat stacked on the seats of the swings like slabs of cake.
She smiled dreamily, thinking of Deacon. The last thing she remembered was lying boneless on top of him while his fingers slid warm, lazy tracks up and down her back. He’d made love to her like it was the first time. So much had happened since that night at the beach, in a lot of ways it was.
He’d said he loved her again and again, and that had just filled her up and left her raw and shaky. It made her want to weep. It made her want to hold onto him as if her life depended on it, because hadn’t every man who’d said that eventually come back and said he didn’t? Or that he loved someone else more? But Deacon wasn’t every other man.
He came back from returning the boys to their crib and slipped his arms around her from behind. Wearing only his T-shirt and her own thick socks, she shivered and nestled back into his heat. He held her tightly, like he had all night. She covered his hands with her own, wanting him again.
“Look at that,” she said, leaning into him. “It’s so beautiful.”
“It is.” His quick and clever hands were already finding their way under the thin cotton of the shirt. Warm palms covered her breasts, and she sighed. “It was supposed to go well south of here. Not the first time the weather man has been wrong. I know two little girls who are going to be very happy.”
“Mmm. And one big girl. I love the snow.”
He slid his hands down to her hips. “I was thinking maybe we’d go out and get a Christmas tree today. A real one.”
Smiling at the excitement in his voice, she turned in his arms to face him. “That’s a lot of snow to be going Christmas tree shopping.”
“Not shopping,” he said, looking offended. “We can go right out back. I can cut it down with a chainsaw, drag it through the woods with my bare hands.”
She grinned up at him, sliding her arms around his waist and up his muscled back. “Do you have a chainsaw?”
He sighed. “No. You’re killing my manly plans.”
“I’m sorry. You never mention you wanted to be a lumberjack.”
“Mmm.” He nipped her neck. “I have another idea. Don’t go home tomorrow.”
She pulled back to look at him.
His face was serious now. “The airport will be a nightmare with this weather.”
“A nightmare, huh? You might be right.”
“So change your flight.” He cupped her bottom, pulling her up against him. “Stay.”
“Daddy!”
“Think about it,” he said, planting a quick kiss on her lips. “I’ll get the minions.”
AFTER LUNCH, AND WHILE the boys slept, they bundled the girls up for a second romp in the snow.
“Daddy, I can’t breave,” Maci mumbled, under the layers of snowsuit, hood, and scarf.
“Hang on just another second. Can’t have my baby girls getting cold.”
Clare did the same with Margo, and when the four of them were sufficiently wrapped and covered, they bounded into the cold and white.
After nearly an hour of snow angels and snowman building, they went inside and stripped off the layers. While she nursed the boys, he read the girls a story and got them down for a nap then joined her in the kitchen for hot chocolate.
Her phone buzzed on the counter. “My brother,” she said. “And shoot. He’s called three times. Probably wants to make sure you’re not holding me captive.”
“Maybe I am.” He smiled, and she smiled back.
“I’ll go call him back and try the airline again.” The first two times she’d called, she’d given up after ten minutes on hold.
As she climbed the stairs, guilt had her calling her brother first. She’d only sent him a short text saying she was going to Ohio.
“Clare,” he answered after one ring.
“Hey. What’s up?”
“Are you still at Deacon’s?”
“Yes. Sorry I never called. The trip was crazy. You wouldn’t believe it, and now we’ve gotten so much snow here. It’s beautiful. You should see Deacon’s girls. They’re over the moon.”
“Clare—”
“I’m thinking of staying an extra day or two. There’s just no reason to fight the nightmare of cancelled and delayed flights.”
“I wish you wouldn’t do that.”
“What? Why?” She bent to pick up the blanket that had fallen off the side of the bed.
“I need to talk to you.”
“Okay. Is something wrong?” She froze. “Is it Dad?”
“No, he’s fine. But I do think something’s wrong.”
“You think so? It’s not like you to be so indecisive,” she teased.
“It’s about Deacon. I found out some stuff.”
“What does that mean?”
“Just hear me out, okay? I know a guy in the police department.”
She heaved out a sigh. “Connor—”
“Just listen. I just asked my friend to dig around a little. It was before I met the guy, and I was worried. He didn’t even sound like he was going to do it, but he got back to me last night.”
“And?”
“And I don’t think you know the whole story about him.”
“Okay.” She sorted out the baby things with spit-up. She’d need to do a load of laundry if she was staying. “What’s the story?”
“There was a restraining order against him. By the date of it, you could surmise it was from the mom of his other kids.”
“Okay.” He had her attention.
“How much has he told you about her?”
Not much, she thought. “I know she’s not in the picture. That she never has been.”
“Did he tell you he paid her to have his daughters? Went to her house and harassed her to the point she issued a restraining order? Made it clear he wanted nothing to do with her, he just wanted the babies, then demanded she hand over custody?”
Clare sat down on the edge of the bed, a burp cloth in one hand, the phone gripped against her ear. She swallowed. “How does your friend know all this, Connor? Where is he getting this?”
“It’s all in her statement in the order. Clare, I don’t think you know him as well as you think. I want you to come home. Get on a plane and come home, or I can come get you.”
“I’m coming home tomorrow.”
“Come home today.”
She pressed two fingers to the twitching pulse just above her right eye. “I couldn’t do that if I wanted to. I told you. Flights are cancelled and delayed and—”
“Clare,” he said tightly. “He met her at a conference. That was also in her statement. Met her at a conference and got her pregnant. Do you hear what I’m saying?”
She heard him but didn’t want to. Blood thundered in her ears.
“Clare?”
“Yes. I heard you.” She needed to talk to Deacon. She wanted to hear it from him. “I’ll call you back.”
She ended the call and stood, looking around the room. Had it all been too good to be true? Her suitcase was on a chair in the corner, and she suddenly felt the need to collect her things. She threw in her black booties on the floor by the bed. She’d let herself get too spread out here. Too at home.
“Hey.”
She spun to see Deacon leaning in the doorway.
“What are you doing?”
“Oh.” She turned back to her suitcase, away from his hopeful smile. “Just getting my stuff together.”
“Did you get the airline?”
“No. Not yet.”
“Oh.” He stepped farther into the room. “I thought I heard you on the phone.”
She picked up her hairbrush from the dresser. She put it down, straightened it. Despite herself and everything good he’d shown her, the doubt shoved its way in. Another conference. Another woman. One who’d meant little to him, one he hadn’t known well.
Was she just another? Was she not seeing what was right in front of her? Again?
“Well, if you’re staying, you don’t really need to pack. Why don’t you call the airline first?”
“I’m not sure I should stay.” She picked up her sweater from the chair in the corner.
“Why not? Is there a reason you have to go back?”
Was there a reason? Did she have a life outside of this? Or was this her life? Before Deacon had come back into her life, she’d been strong, she’d had plans. She was taking care of herself and her babies.
“Clare. Can you stop and tell me what you’re doing?”
“My brother called.”
“Okay,” he said cautiously. “Is it your dad? Is everything okay?”
“My dad’s fine. It’s not that.”
“So why are you leaving?”
“I’m not leaving. I’m getting my stuff together. My flight’s tomorrow morning and—”
“So you’re leaving.”
“No.”
“Well, you’re not staying.”
She stared into her suitcase. “No. I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“And I asked you why.”
She heard the frustration in his tone and struggled for the right words, afraid she didn’t want to ask because she was afraid to hear the answers.
“Connor told me some things.”
Deacon leaned back against the dresser, arms crossed over his chest. “What kind of things?”
“About the girls.” Even as she said it, a part of her brain said No, he’s done nothing to deserve it. There’s no reason to question him. But how could she not ask?
“What girls? My girls? What in the hell would he have to say about them?”
Stupid, but the way he said my girls hurt.
“It was more about their mother.” She raised her eyes to his. “He said you met her at a conference? That she had a restraining order against you?” She saw the muscles in his jaw twitch before he ran a hand roughly over his face.
Deacon let out a heavy sigh. “Okay. Sit down, and we’ll talk.”
“I don’t want to sit down.” She felt sick at her stomach.
“Clare.” He heaved out another long sigh, cursed under his breath. “Will you please sit down?”
She sank onto the edge of the bed, holding her sweater like an anchor the way Margo carried her blanket around when she was tired.
“I did meet Natalie at a conference,” Deacon began. “In Pittsburg. And I had a drink with her. That’s all. Unlike with you, I was able to concentrate on the reason I was there, which was work.
“She got my number, and I didn’t think much more about it. A few weeks later she contacted me. She lived between here and Pittsburg, and we saw each other for a few months. It ended. I ended it. Then she contacted me again, maybe a month later, to tell me she was pregnant and that she was having an abortion. That’s how I found out about my daughters.” Pain joined the anger in his face.
“I don’t even know why she told me, just to get back at me for breaking things off maybe. She could have just done it and I would have never known, and that haunts me still. And what else? The money? Yes. She said she was close to landing a modeling contract, and being pregnant would mean she wouldn’t get it, so I gave her money. When she found out she was having twins, she asked for more. I gave her more.
“For the next seven months, I was a wreck. Worried every day. Was she going to the doctor? Being careful? Taking vitamins? Hell. I didn’t know.” He ran a hand through his hair again. “She called me once around four months saying she’d changed her mind and she wasn’t having the babies. I went over there. There was a guy, a new boyfriend…We got into it, and I guess that’s what led to the restraining order.”
“Why didn’t you tell me this before?”
“Because I didn’t want to talk about her. I was embarrassed. Ashamed. Angry that my girls don’t have a mother and blaming myself. And mostly because I didn’t want you to think exactly what you’re thinking now. Clare. Look at me. Whatever was in that report, however it looked, that’s not how it was. And it’s sure as hell not what’s between us.”
“I just can’t make another mistake. I’m a mother. I have to be more responsible than to just jump wherever my heart wants to leap. I can’t do that anymore.”
“And you think I’m a mistake?”
“No. I don’t know. It’s not you. It’s me—”
“Oh, please.” His mouth twisted. “Don’t give me lines. I don’t need them. If you don’t feel the same, just say it.”
Unshed tears burned in her eyes. “That’s not it.”
“Then don’t leave.”
“Why?”
“Why?”
“I mean why am I staying? Because it would be easier? What am I staying for exactly?”
“I thought that was obvious when I said I was in love with you.”
No, she thought. Nothing’s obvious to me. And that’s my failing, not yours.
Deacon drew in a deep sigh, and she was afraid he was about to say this wasn’t worth it. Not worth the trouble.
“In some ways, it would be easier if you were here,” Deacon said. “Or if I were there, for both of us. And yes, that means being with the boys, too. I can’t separate the two. I’m sorry.”
She shook her head. He shouldn’t have to separate the two. “Maybe it should be obvious to me,” she finally said. “There’s just this fear inside me and…”
“And what, baby?” He came to her then, took both her hands in his.
“Remember I asked you at the beach, how do you know when it’s real and you said you didn’t know?”
“I do now. But you don’t,” he said.
“No. I don’t. And I don’t know how to trust your feelings when I can’t even trust my own.” When she met his eyes again, she would have rather seen almost anything but the disappointment.
“So maybe this is all a mistake, then. Maybe I just thought I was in love with you, but now I’m not, or tomorrow I won’t be. Is that it?”
Her face fell. He dropped her hands and took a step away before turning abruptly back.
“Damn it, Clare. Do you really think I’m that unsure of my feelings? That I don’t know my own mind? What would be a mistake is us trying to build a life together while you’re over there with one foot out the door, waiting every day for me to come home and say, oh sorry, I changed my mind.”
But it had happened before. Didn’t he understand that?
Easy to love, easy to leave.
Just then, there was a cry down the hall. One of the girls. He glanced out the open doorway then back to her.
“Did you ever think that maybe you weren’t so wrong about Adam?”
She sniffed and stared at him. “I beg to differ. I think I was pretty wrong.”
“No, you missed my meaning. I mean, maybe you never really thought he was right? Maybe you’ve never really thought any of them were right.”
When there was a second cry for Daddy, he dropped his head. “I’ll be right back.” He stopped in the doorway and looked back. “You’ve been fighting this all along, long before your brother called. It’s not a matter of it being real, Clare. It’s a matter of you not having the faith to believe in it.”
* * *
WHEN HE WAS GONE, Clare walked to the window. She leaned her forehead to the cold glass. More snow was falling. She could leave with her sons. His sons. That felt wrong. She could stay and jump. She could barely see the trees she’d walked through last night with Deacon. Though obscured and indistinct, she knew they were still there, just as tall, just as strong. Just as real.
Deacon was right and she couldn’t stay in the middle. One foot in, one foot out. Coming or going.
And hadn’t she known, deep down, that Adam wasn’t right? And the others? So maybe she hadn’t been so wrong. And didn’t she more than anyone know how rare it was to find a love that made your heart tremble? That if you found it, you should grab hold with both hands and not let go?
She breathed and stared out at the white-blanketed world. She had to make a choice, and it was her choice. Either she believed in their love, or she didn’t. And if she didn’t, she should say so and walk away.
And there was something else when she looked close enough. Well before Deacon, even before Adam, she’d more than wanted love, she’d believed she needed it to be happy and complete. That had changed. She’d accepted her life, fallen in love with her sons. She drew in a long, cleansing breath of truth. She could be happy. But Deacon made her happier.
Minutes passed, and she heard his soft footsteps behind her then felt him standing close, but he didn’t touch her.
“Is she okay?”
“Yeah. It was Maci. As soon as I convinced her to close her eyes, she drifted right back. Clare. Look at me.”
She turned, looked.
“Do you honestly believe I’d say any of these things to you if I thought there was any chance of changing my mind? Would I take that chance with the girls? Because as much as I want you for myself, I want you for them, too. You may have been looking for it, may have had a lot of missteps, but I never thought I was in love until you. Wasn’t even particularly looking for it. And then I found you.”
She opened her mouth to say he wasn’t a misstep. That she was terrified, but not too terrified. Not too afraid to jump over the edge with both feet and trust him to catch her. But the words caught in her throat as she stared into the palm he held out to her.
There, lying in his big hand, was the tiny button from his shirt. The little circle of plastic that had started it all.
“You kept it,” she whispered. She hadn’t been wrong back at the beach. He had cared.
“I did.”
“All this time.” She looked up, her eyes meeting his, and it blew through her like a storm. All this feeling, so much it took her breath, and she wondered how people lived with this, how they could possibly carry this much love for someone else inside them.
“All this time.” He slipped his arms around her waist. “I love you, Clare. Always.”
When she laid a hand to his chest, he covered it with his own, holding it right over his heart. And with the rhythmic thump, thump, thump, her mind quieted. His heart beat in time with the quick, hard pulse of her own. She felt the truth and the certainty in every beat, in his eyes holding hers. And when her heart finally opened up, it was like freedom. “I love you.”
His arms came around her like steel bands, and she felt love, strong and sure, flowing both ways. It was the most real thing in the world.
“Say it again.”
“I love you, Deacon Montgomery. With all my heart.”
* * *
THREE DAYS LATER, CLARE knelt on the airport floor, holding Maci and Margo in a hard hug goodbye.
“But you’re coming back?” Maci asked.
“Yes. I’m coming back. I’ll be back before you know it.”
Tears hung on Margo’s lashes. The little girl had maybe just started to feel what it was like to have a mother, and now she was leaving.
“How do I know?” Maci asked, breaking Clare’s heart.
Clare looked up at Deacon then back to both girls.
“Because I love you. Look in my eyes.” She took Maci’s little hand and put it on her heart. “Do you feel that?”
Maci nodded.
“I love you. That’s how you know.” She blinked back her own tears and kissed both girls’ cheeks. “We’ll be back for Christmas. Well before then.”
“In time for our pwogwam?”
With Maci’s hand in hers, she straightened, felt Deacon’s arm slip around her. “When is it?”
“It’s the fourteenth, but you don’t have to—”
“I wouldn’t miss it.” They’d never had a mother at a dance recital, school program, or birthday party. Deacon had told her they’d recently asked why. Not why don’t we have a mom, but why don’t we have a mom at our program? She figured those were the things that made a mom. Being at things. Reading stories. Kissing boo-boos.
A loud group of travelers rushed past them toward the security check.
“I should be flying with you.”
“I’ll be fine, Deacon. It’s a direct flight. My brother will get us on the other end.”
“I don’t like it.”
She smiled and cupped his cheek. “Don’t pout.”
“I don’t pout.”
“Okay.” He was so pouting. She turned her face into Deacon’s neck, inhaled him and pressed a kiss there. “I don’t want to leave,” she whispered.
“I don’t want to let you go.”
“I’ll be back soon, and then you won’t have to.”