His hand lifted, shaking, and began to lower again, but then he drew back, his face uncertain. I lifted the blanket aside and clasped his wrist, guiding it to my stomach. The warmth of his skin felt good against the cold of my own. Slowly his fingers opened, moving and caressing the small swell beneath his touch. “I never planned to have a child,” he whispered. “I didn’t know if I’d be a good father.” He looked up, a worried frown on his face. “You know I didn’t have a very good example growing up.”
I studied his face, seeing the wonder in his expression.
“How did you feel when you read about the baby?”
“How did I feel?”
“Yes. You wanted my words, Zachary. Now I want yours. I need them. What made you cry?”
He stared, his brow furrowed. “I was ashamed that I’d deserted you. Worried I was too late and you may not forgive me.” He paused, his gaze dropping to my stomach. “Then the happiness of knowing you're carrying my child. That you were here, safe, and maybe I had a chance—I’ve never felt happiness like that before, Megan. I’ve never wanted something so much, either.”
He swallowed and looked back up at me. “You didn’t finish the story. Why didn’t you finish?”
“I didn’t know how it was going to end.”
“Let it end with me—with us. Give me the chance, Megan. Please.”
“Do you want this child?”
Both his hands were on my stomach now. Skimming, touching, spreading out in a protective gesture covering the entire surface. “Yes. God, yes. ”
“Do you think you can love our child?”
“I already do.”
I lifted his chin. “Then you’ll be fine.”
“What about”—he hesitated—“us?”
“We need to work on us. I need time.”
“You’ll stay on here?”
“Yes.”
“Will you let me be a part of this, of our child’s life?”
I sighed. “Yes, of course.”
“Do you—”
“Do I what?”
He leaned closer. “Do you think you can love me again, Megan?”
“I do love you, Zachary. I need to be able to trust you again—to know you won’t run the next time something happens that upsets you. I can’t do that to our child. I won’t allow that to happen.”
“You won’t have to. I’m never leaving again. I can’t,” he declared as his voice trembled. “I’ve been so lost without you.”
My voice caught. “I’ve missed you so much.”
He moved even closer, his breath washing over my face. “Forgive me. Please forgive me.”
“I have.”
His eyes dropped to my mouth in a silent question. My head dipped with permission as his lips, so soft and familiar, molded to mine, the pressure gentle. His hand wove into my hair as his fingers stroked the back of my head in light caresses. His scent surrounded me, the taste of him in my mouth easing the dull ache I carried for months. A long shiver ran through his body as he whispered my name, the sound so pleading, I whimpered as he brushed his lips over mine once more. Zachary’s kiss was languid and indulgent; long sweeping passes of his tongue, sweet pecks of his lips, gentle nips of his teeth as he pulled my bottom lip into his mouth. He wrapped his arm around me, holding me close, while his other hand stroked my stomach in never ending circles.
There was nothing rushed or hurried. No long, deep moans of raging passion. It was a kiss of welcome, one of sweet reunion, of letting go of the hurt and starting again.
It was a kiss that promised a future.
Our future.
He drew back, his breathing deep. Touching his forehead to mine, his voice shook. “Never, Megan—I’m not leaving again. I will fight and struggle to stay with you—for you, for our child.” His fingers curved over my rounded stomach. “If you let me?” He paused, and I felt a shudder run through his long frame. “Please let me.”
“This is your only chance,” I whispered. “I have to protect our child.”
He shook his head. “You’ll never have to protect our child from me, or guard your heart again. I promise you with everything I am.”
“I love you.”
He gathered me to him, lifting me onto his lap and wrapping himself around me. His warmth soaked into my skin, as his fingers stroked through my hair in long, gentle passes.
“That’s all I need.” He pressed a kiss to my hair. “That’s all I’ll ever need.”
I rested my face onto his chest, doubt still lingering.
“I hope so,” I whispered.
“With all that I am, Megan, I swear.”
For now, it was enough.28MeganWarm lips lingered on my temple. “Morning.”
I snuggled deeper into the comfort of the blankets with a little groan. “Too early.”
“Your doctor appointment is in an hour, Megan. I let you sleep as long as I could.” Zachary’s voice was tender as he spoke, his fingers stroking through my hair in long passes.
Opening my eyes, I smiled up at him, the feeling of wonder still fresh. Even after three weeks, I found it hard to believe he was back and home with me. We had been taking things slow. I was still staying at Karen’s in the guest room. Zachary slept on the sofa, refusing to leave me alone at night, but knowing I wasn’t ready for anything else quite yet. We’d spent endless hours talking, sharing, crying, and at times, even yelling. But the past week there had been less of those dark conversations and more of the lighter moments. We were both letting go of the past sadness and moving on. Zachary’s smiles were easier these days; quick to appear, often followed by the low laughter I liked so much.