“What did Todd say?”
As Becca listened to the story, her heart turned slowly to ice. If Todd could fall so completely out of love, couldn’t Will? Was this where they were heading?
Love really wasn’t strong enough to conquer all, was it.
“Has he told Martha?” she whispered when he finally fell silent.
“He’s going to do it tonight.”
“How soon will he leave?”
“Almost immediately,” Will told her, drawing a finger down the side of her face. “With the semester ending, there’s no reason for either of them to stay.”
“No reason, except for his wife and four kids.”
Pulling Becca into his arms, Will held her against him. “I know, baby, I know,” he said, the pain in his voice undisguised.
He held her for several minutes and Becca gradually sank into him. She hadn’t realized how completely starved she was for the contact. Not just sexually, though there was definitely that, but for the security and comfort of Will’s arms around her.
Too soon, just as she felt his body responding to her nearness, he pulled away. Circling her desk, he stood behind it. “We could move this into my office,” he said, completely ignoring what had just happened. “Like you said, it’s a much bigger room. We could both work in there.”
Trying to understand, to give him time, trying not to feel hurt by his withdrawal, Becca thought about his suggestion. Was thrilled that he’d even offered. “It might work,” she said.
If they were both still living in the house by then.
She’d always been a little lonely working back here in her office—had felt cut off from the rest of the house. From him.
“We probably won’t be using the office at the same time in the beginning, anyway,” he said, looking around the room again.
Becca chuckled. “I have a feeling neither one of us will be using it a lot in the beginning. Ever try concentrating on three hours of sleep?”
His brown eyes warm, concerned, he asked, “You really think it’ll be that bad?”
“At first, yes.” She hoped that was all the bad it would be, that the reality wouldn’t be worse than that. She could pull all-nighters when she was twenty; at forty-two her brain stopped working without at least a few hours of uninterrupted sleep every night.
And yet, as she cradled the tiny life inside her, a joyful glow spread throughout Becca’s body, invigorating her. If she could carry this baby to term, deliver him and bring him home, she knew she would find the energy to care for him.
“Becca, there’s something I’ve been wanting to talk to you about,” Will said, returning her thoughts to the present—to him. He was leaning against her desk, his feet crossed in front of him.
Becca turned cold. “Is this something I need to sit down for?”
Running a finger thoughtfully along his lower lip, he shook his head.
Somehow that didn’t reassure her.
“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking,” he began. Becca sat in the armchair she usually used for reading. She’d unbuttoned her skirt when she’d come home, and as she sat, the zipper slid down, as well.
“Thinking I should have done weeks ago,” he continued.
Dry-mouthed, Becca nodded.
“I couldn’t understand, still can’t, actually, how—medical considerations aside—you wouldn’t want this baby.”
“I know.” She was having a hard time believing it herself. Except when the panic hit.
But they’d already been through this. Did they have to do it again? Was he never going to get over it?
“Because of that,” Will began again, speaking slowly, “I don’t think I gave proper consideration to the physical concerns.”