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She started as Connor came up beside her.
“Connor, I’m not sure that I’m ready to do this. I don’t think I can even go into the cottage yet.” A tempest of grief was imminent. Only Connor’s presence held the tears in check. “I need time.”
“Look.” Connor swung the baby seat forward. “I think Dylan knows he’s home.”
The baby was cricking his neck, and making gurgling sounds of pleasure.
Sorrow tasted bitter in the back of her mouth. What did poor Dylan know? “It’s not his home anymore,” she choked. “Michael and Suzy are gone.”
And she and Connor were going to have to decide—and agree—what to do with the house.
Michael had done a marvelous job restoring the old cottage—with Suzy and Connor’s help. But the maintenance would be a nightmare. Best to sell it and invest the proceeds for Dylan.
Moisture escaped from the corner of one eye and she quickly brushed it away before Connor could notice.
He swung around. “I’ve been thinking…”
She gave a surreptitious sniff. “What?”
“One of the reasons you felt that Dylan should live with you was because he’s grown accustomed to his surroundings in the past few days.”
“Well, yes…” It looked like she’d gotten through to him. Finally. The first thread of relief started to unwind. She glanced up at him, grateful for his understanding. “It’ll be much better for him than going to your home, which he doesn’t know.”
“I wouldn’t say he doesn’t know it,” Connor objected. “He has been there with his parents. But as you pointed out, it would be much better for him to be in familiar surroundings—like here.”
“Here?” Dismay filled her.
Connor nodded. “This is, after all, his home.”
In the distance thunder growled. Victoria decided that even the weather gods disagreed with Connor.
“Oh, no, I couldn’t live here.” The comforting sense of relief had vanished. There were far too many memories of Suzy and Michael. In every piece of painted wood, every flower. It would kill her to have to live here. “Don’t ask me to do that.”
“I’m not asking you to—I’ll move in. Can’t you see?” He was looking at her as if he expected her to applaud his perspicacity. “You were right, Victoria. And this way I won’t be displacing the baby. He’ll be in familiar surroundings.”
Her own arguments had caused him to come to this conclusion? Her heart started to thud in fear. She was going to lose Dylan after all. “You can’t do this!”
He thrust his hand into his pants pocket and brought out a bunch of keys. “Why not?”
Because Dylan is mine, she thought. But she couldn’t tell him that. She’d promised Suzy she wouldn’t reveal her part in Dylan’s birth.
Oh, dear God.
She tried to get her thoughts straight. Surely Suzy’s death released her from that promise.
Or did it?
She rubbed her fingertips against the sides of her nose. Finally she said thinly, “It’s macabre that you’re thinking of moving into their home when we only buried them today.” Her head started to ache. “Tell me you don’t mean this?”
But Connor was already striding up the path that wound to the wooden front door, keys jangling between his fingers, the handle of the infant seat hooked over his arm.
A splatter of moisture landed on her arm. Victoria glanced up, startled at how dark the sky had grown. She hurried after Connor and grabbed his arm.
He swung around. “Careful, you’ll awaken—”
“I’m not going in there. I’m not.” Barely conscious of the wetness on her cheeks, Victoria tipped her head back and glared at him defiantly.
Connor grew still. His free hand came up and touched her cheek with gentle fingers. “You’re crying.”
She ducked her head sideways, dislodging his touch. “I’m not crying. It’s the rain.” It seemed important to convince him of that. To reveal no weakness. Victoria pointed to the sky. “Look how low the clouds are.”
But his gaze didn’t waver from her face, and his eyes softened to the color of mist. “Okay, it’s the rain.”
“It’s going to get worse.” She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “We can’t stay out here. Dylan will get drenched.” Hunching her shoulders, she threw a haunted glance toward the cottage.
“I’ll take the two of you home.” Connor put an arm around her shoulder and turned her toward the gate, the infant seat swinging gently from his other hand.
