Becca's Baby

had been a few months ago, was mussed and damp with sweat.

“What have you been doing?” she choked out over the emotion clogging her throat. She’d been so lonely tonight. Unbearably lonely. And here he was. Solid and strong. Right here in her bathroom.

“I went to get this,” he said slowly, his eyes wide as they took in her mostly naked body.

Becca just continued to stare. He looked so damn good to her. Perfect, standing there, wanting her.

“Guess I should’ve taken the time to shower, but I’ve wasted too much time already…”

He glanced down at his golf clothes, and Becca noticed the box he was holding.

“What’s that?” she asked, only mildly curious. She was more interested in hearing he’d come back to stay.

Not that he’d come to give her an old dusty box.

“It’s for you,” he said softly, lifting it toward her.

Suddenly self-conscious, Becca turned and slipped into her robe, knotting it tightly beneath her breasts before turning back to take the package.

He seemed to notice only now that the box was covered with dust. “Here, let me,” he said, brushing it off. He ripped through the tape securing it, too, reached inside and pulled out a little wooden table box.

“Oh…” Becca’s voice trailed off as her eyes once again flooded with tears.

Gingerly taking the box from him, she ran her fingers over the frosted-glass top. More than memory than by sight, she read the words inscribed there. Mommy’s treasures.

“I can’t believe it,” she whispered, loving the box with her hands, afraid to look up, to find out this moment was a dream born of a desperate imagination.

“Where was it?” She was still staring at the box.

“In Greg’s attic.”

He’d kept their box.

If this was a dream, she was going to play it out for all it was worth. The lid of the box opened as easily as it had twenty years before. Her fingers found the little card she’d left there. Blinking back tears, Becca read the words Will had written there so many years ago.

As thankful as I am for this baby, I’m even more thankful that you’re my wife.

“It’s truer now than ever,” he said softly, coming forward as she read. He lifted her chin with one finger. “As thankful as I am for this baby,” he recited, his voice thick, “I’m much, much more thankful that you’re my wife.” His eyes, filled with love, held hers.

That one look was all she needed.

Will had returned to her.

Sliding her arms around him as best she could, Becca clutched the box behind his back and sank against the man she loved.

“Welcome home,” she whispered, just before his lips descended to claim what had always been his.

He kissed her gently, and Becca rediscovered the taste of him. The taste that had always sent fire raging through her. It was no different this night, and suddenly, too impatient for slow controlled loving, she quickened the kiss, darting her tongue into his mouth, around his lips, needing the passion they’d discovered this summer to quell the pain that had followed.

“I figured out something important,” Will broke away long enough to say.

“What’s that?” Becca asked, running her hands over his body until she found the erection her belly prevented her hips from finding.

“The love’s always been there, Bec.”

She stopped, looked up at him.

“It’s what kept us together through all the bad times.”