So far, there was nothing on it. He wasn’t even sure what he wanted to put on it. In a perfect world, he and Cassie would be in love and she’d be having his son.
He didn’t even know for sure if that kind of love even existed outside movies and novels.
He was no more in love with his ex-wife than she’d ever been in love with him. And who knew if Peter and Elaina’s love would have withstood the stresses and challenges of time? He liked to think it would have, but...
The world wasn’t ever going to be perfect. Not his. Not anyone’s.
He wanted to raise his son. Wanted to be involved in every aspect of that brand-new life.
Too late for conception.
And going forward?
He couldn’t figure out how the future would look. But was absolutely certain that as long as he had the chance, he had to be as much a figure in Alan’s life as Cassie would allow.
Alan’s mother. What did it say about him that his favorite part of life right now was climbing into bed at night and texting the woman who was carrying his child?
Couldn’t be good.
He’d been back to work for a couple of hours or so when Retro stood up from her bed and ran outside with her tail wagging. Glancing up, Wood saw Elaina walking toward the shed, a basket in her hand.
Standing straight, he left the crib frame he’d been working on and moved toward the doorway, watching her.
“What’s up?” he asked. Maybe she’d done the closets first. Was on her way out, stopping to tell him her changed schedule. It was one of their understandings...they generally let the other know their plans.
“I brought lunch,” she said, and he stepped back as she entered the shed. “I figured you’d get involved and forget to eat.”
He’d been known to skip lunch on occasion when he was deep into a project. But not because he forgot. The choice to ignore the meal in favor of another half hour of doing something he loved was a conscious one.
With the basket hanging over one arm, she reached with the other to pull a TV tray out of the rack of four of them. Grabbing it from her, he set it up.
She’d made tuna melt sandwiches for him. And brought herself out a plastic bowl filled with greens with a generous scoop of tuna on top.
She asked to see the nursery plans, studied them as she ate, asking questions.
“I’d add shelves on the changing table instead of these two drawers,” she said, pointing to an area on the rough picture he’d drawn. “You can get those square storage baskets to fit, and it would be much easier to pull out one of those to reach for something in a pinch than to have to move and yank out a drawer. You know, if you have one hand on the baby on top...”
He studied the drawing. Agreed with her completely.
“And maybe instead of this two-inch solid piece around the top of the table, put in the same spindle design you’re using on the crib. That way you’d still have that little bit of barrier, but the baby could turn his head and see out.
“And I’d do the same for the cradle. I know a lot of them have solid sides, but would you want to lie in such a small, closed-in space and only be able to see the ceiling?”
He wouldn’t. And liked her suggestions.
“I was thinking maybe we should set up a meeting between you and Cassie,” he said. “Just so you know each other...”
He was a guy who needed his family together, apparently—and Elaina was family.
She chewed. Grabbed a couple of grapes, popped them into her mouth.
“I’d rather not.” She glanced up at him, and he recognized the sympathy in her eyes. Hated it there. “When Alan’s born, I’ll be right there any time I’m invited. The best aunt ever.”
He heard the “but” she didn’t say before she continued.
“I know you feel a need to be involved right now, with the baby’s health issues, and I support any decisions you make, but...” There it was. He waited.
“I don’t want to watch you get hurt.”