Understanding flooded at least a trickle of peace. His rage was directed at those responsible. Not her. This man's innate sense of justice, his unfailing defense of anyone attacked, would help him wade through it all. But later. Not now.
He shifted against her, his hand falling away from her back.
"Blake?" Even as she'd winced at being touched, oh, God, she couldn't bear to be left. She gripped his arms, jolted, bumped her head on the underside of the desk. "Where are you going?"
And then she smelled—spearmint. She smiled. Blake's chewing gum, a habit he once told her he'd picked up after he stopped dipping at eighteen when he joined the Navy.
"Want some?"
"Yes, please."
He pressed a stick in her palm, papers rustling as he unwrapped one for himself. She folded the gum in her mouth. Spearmint saturated her taste buds.
She chewed out her tension. So this was why he enjoyed the stuff, always chomping double-time after returning from a deployment. She embraced the familiar flavor in the midst of a foreign world and slowly felt herself relax a bit more against him.
Like many times before. Normal. And, oh, how she wanted everything to be the way it was before. Except the past couldn't be erased. Would she ever be completely okay again? Would she and Blake ever return to those lazy afternoons of tender love-making and spearmint kisses?
His arm curved around her waist again, his hand settling on her belly. An accident in the dark? Or deliberate?
The baby fluttered inside her, not that Blake would be able to feel it yet. God, she wanted to cry, but if she lost it, all of this would be harder for him and damned, but wasn't life hard enough for both of them right now?
"Marry me."
The taste left her gum. She'd expected the proposal from him, just not so soon. "Because I'm pregnant?''
He flinched and she wanted to cry all over again.
"Not because you're pregnant."
She needed to believe him. Certainly they'd talked about marriage before—not that they'd made it through the discussions without fighting about her quitting her job or him quitting his. And things were even more complicated now. "I'm sorry. Sorry that you have to be here. Sorry that we even have to think about whether or not you're proposing because I'm pregnant."
"Good God, you don't have anything to apologize for. It's not your fault." Sincerity rang clear.
Months of holding it together shattered, the shaking deep inside threatened to rattle her teeth. "I was afraid you would think maybe it was because I came here in the first place."
"Hey, stop that kind of talk." His cheek pressed to hers, slick with grease paint and sweat, but emphatic. Familiar. "I may not have agreed with your coming here, but I understand your reasons now for doing it. And, hell, you gave me an out when we talked that last time and I didn't take it."
He couldn't possibly blame himself. Could he?
Of course he did. He was a man. They thought they were responsible for everything.
She shrugged off her own fears quaking deep inside and wrapped her arms around his waist, her elbow bumping a half-open desk drawer, the stab of pain nothing in comparison to the ache that swirled between them. He stilled for a second before a sigh shuddered through him. She felt his eyes squeeze shut tight against her skin. He needed her forgiveness every bit as much as she needed his.
"It's okay. It's going to be okay, Blake."
He nodded against her, and they sat, curled up under the desk and wrapped in each other's arms through three more window-rattling explosions splashing light through the room...then fading.
"So, Sydney, does this mean you'll marry me after all?"
"It's not that simple anymore. You need to know I'm going to have this baby."
"Okay."
"That's all you have to say?"
"If you want to have the baby, then I'll love it because it's yours."
"How can you be so certain?" She had to ask because, God forgive her, sometimes she wasn't sure how she would manage it herself.