Her Festive Baby Bombshell

“Cleaning up. What did you think?”

“You should have waited. I would have done it. Or I would have flown in a cleaning crew. But I never expected you to do it, not in your condition.”

“My condition? You make it sound like I’ve got some sort of disease instead of being pregnant with two beautiful babies.”

“That wasn’t my intent.”

She knew that. She was just being touchy because...because he’d gotten past all of her defenses. He’d gotten her to fall in love with him and she’d never felt more vulnerable.

“What had you so distracted when I walked in?” Finn’s gaze met hers as he dabbed a soapy washcloth to her fingers and palm.

“It was nothing.” Nothing that she was ready to share. Once she did, he’d reason away her hesitation to get further involved with him.

“It had to be something if it had you so distracted that you didn’t even hear me enter the room. Were you reconsidering my proposal?”

He couldn’t keep proposing to her. It was dangerous. One of these days he might catch her in a weak moment and she might say yes. It might have a happy beginning but it was the ending that worried her.

She knew how to put an end to it. She caught and held his gaze. Her heart thump-thumped as she swallowed hard, working up the courage to get the words out. “Do you love me?”

His mouth opened, but just as quickly he pressed his lips together. He didn’t love her. Her heart pinched. In that moment she realized that she’d wanted him to say yes. She wanted him to say that he was absolutely crazy in love with her. Inwardly, she groaned. What was happening to her? She was the skeptic—the person who didn’t believe in happily-ever-afters.

“We don’t have to love each other to make a good marriage.” He reached out to her, gripping her elbows and pulling her to him. “This will work. Trust me.”

She wanted to say that she couldn’t marry someone who didn’t love her, but she didn’t trust herself mentioning the L-word. “I do trust you. But we’re better off as friends.”

He sighed. “What I need is a wife and a mother for my children.”

“You know what they say, two out of three isn’t bad.”

His brows scrunched together as though not following her comment.

She gazed into his eyes, trying to ignore the pain she saw reflected there. “We’re friends or at least I’d like to think we are.” He nodded in agreement and she continued. “And I’m the mother of your children. That’s two things. But I just can’t be your wife. I won’t agree to something that in the end will hurt everyone. You’ve already experienced more than enough pain in your life. I won’t add to it. Someday you’ll find the right woman.”

“What if I’m looking at her?”

She glanced away. “Now that the storm’s over, I think I should get back to New York.”

Finn dabbed antibiotic cream on her nicks and cuts before adding a couple of bandages. Without another word, he started cleaning up the mess in the bathroom. Fine. If he wanted to act this way, so could she.

She walked away, but inside her heart felt as though it’d been broken in two. Why did life have to be so difficult? Her vision blurred with unshed tears, but she blinked them away.

If only she could be like other people and believe in the impossible, then she could jump into his arms—she could be content with the present and not worry about the future.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

TWO BUSY DAYS had now passed since the tropical storm. Finn had done everything in his power to put the house back to normal. The physical labor had been exactly what he needed to work out his frustrations.

Toward the end of the day, Emilio phoned to say that the storm was between them and he couldn’t get a flight out of Florida yet. Finn told him not to worry, he had everything under control and that Emilio should enjoy his new grandchild.

“Do you want some more to eat?” Holly’s voice drew him from his thoughts.

Finn glanced down at his empty dinner plate. She’d made spaghetti and meatballs. He’d had some jar sauce and frozen meatballs on hand. He didn’t always want someone to cook for him—sometimes he liked the solitude. So he made sure to keep simple things on hand that he could make for himself.