“You keep me on my toes and I like that.” He rested his forehead against hers, then angled his face to kiss her lips.
She welcomed him, thoroughly, opening and tasting.
Yet even as she lost herself in the moment, she couldn’t stop her mind from spinning. She loved him, deeply. She would live the rest of her days with him. But she would never have children with him. All of that took some adjusting in her mind, given she’d expected to spend her life with Charles, the father of her kids. Things had upended for her when he’d died, and there were days she’d been certain her heart had broken so fully her body would follow. But somehow, she’d pieced herself back together.
For her children.
She’d held on for them. And now she couldn’t deny a feeling of resentment that they were holding back. She’d always supported them in their decisions. Could they really cut themselves out of her life over this? Could she live with that?
Could Jack?
He’d truly lost a child, in the worst way imaginable. He had to be aching inside over this new rift. If it came down to calling off the wedding to keep their kids, even if she could commit, could she ask him to give up that much for her?
CHAPTER EIGHT
What. The. Hell.
Even fifteen minutes after Broderick left, Glenna was still stunned to her curling toes from his kiss—and his abrupt departure. She slumped against the side of the hot tub, the water bubbling just under her chin.
Broderick had literally walked away. After luring her out here under the stars. Kissing her as sweetly as if he was savoring the world’s finest wine. Touching her as if she were delicate china to be adored. He’d then left her feeling more than a little crazy. Breathless and edgy, she could barely tell what side was up right now.
Leaning her head back, she stared up at the shimmering streaks of the aurora borealis. Early spring wasn’t the optimum time to watch, but the lights were still magnificent. Romantic. She wasn’t sure what game he was playing, or if it was even a game. He was attracted to her. He had high stakes here, too. Could he be as confused as she felt?
Asking seemed to be a dangerous proposition right now, though. Not until she was prepared for whatever his answer might be.
A wail interrupted her thoughts, sending her limbs into motion. Little Fleur’s cry set off a maternal drive in her heart, and she barely registered the cold whip of Alaskan night air across her exposed skin as she leaped out of the tub and reached for the baby monitor. More discontented cries sounded from the machine.
Fumbling for her robe, she pulled it on as she made her way across the patio, dripping water as she went. She left her fluffy boots behind, determined to be there for the baby who might be her only physical link to her deceased husband.
Glenna yanked the door open, water pooling at her feet in the momentary pause. Entering the cabin, she heard another voice emerge as a rustle from the baby’s room. A male voice.
Broderick.
On her tiptoes, she listened, trying to distinguish the words.
His tone, gentle and soft, made it hard to determine exactly what he was saying. Glenna touched a hand to her throat, held her breath.
Silence.
Little Fleur’s crying eased.
Glenna scooped up a towel off one of the chairs at the rustic wood table. Patting herself dry, she strained to hear him, noting the warm shadows the yellow lamps cast in the cottage. A homey glow. There was no other way to describe this space.
“Shh, shh. It’s okay, little one.” His normally deep rasp carried a softer cadence.
Her head cocked to the side as she let him take care of the child. If Fleur was his baby, then this moment mattered for their bond. She didn’t want to intrude on that.
Instead, she wandered around the cabin, reaching up to touch the moose antlers above the hearth. All the charm of old Alaska seemed distilled in this space. Glenna dropped her hand to the wood-burning stove. The metal was cool to her touch. An absence of fire. Refreshing, because her own conflicted desire felt like a roaring inferno.
“Ahh. There we go.”
Broderick’s voice sliced into her thoughts.
She kept moving around the room, her bare toes trading cool stone tile for a warm fur throw rug that sprawled in front of the couch.
Gazing about her, she took in the small details of the place. An old barn-style wooden sliding door separated the two rooms. As she drew closer, her breathing quieter now, she fully appreciated the softer side of Broderick.
Hand braced outside the door, she listened in on his one-sided conversation. Apparently, he’d picked up the baby, and she heard him say, “Yes, ma’am, we’ll get you in a dry diaper and take a little walk around to look out the window…”
Her chest went tight as she envisioned him holding Fleur, carrying her to the window to gaze at the stars.