Page 48 of Promise

And it makes me realize how devastatingly ruined I’d be if the tables had been turned. If he’d been with someone else. If he got someone else pregnant.

I don’t have the energy to lash out at him. Not when I’m on this emotional rollercoaster, riding up with the high of the amazing news about Mirabelle, knowing I’m about to drop down the other side with the discussion we need to have about her.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, my remorse sincere, although the apology isn’t enough of an explanation.

Dart rushes toward me, closing the distance between the entry hall and the living room where I stand.

“Look.” He blows out a struggling breath and swipes a hand through his hair. “I’ve been sick at the thought of Mirabelle without a father.” His gaze drops to where I hold her in my arms. “Sick that you might have slept with someone to . . .” He pauses, swallowing thickly. “That you . . .” He can’t even form the words.

That I got pregnant without him. Is that what he wants to say?

He exhales a second time, as if blowing away what he can’t say.

“Let me be here for her.” He waves toward me. “Let me be here for you.”

I shake my head, squeezing Mirabelle tighter. “I can’t do that,” I admit. “I will not make Mirabelle the glue between us.”

A child is never a reason to stick together. And there is no us.

He sighs, glancing toward the front window. Stone and Cassidy are both gone.

“You heard what she said, though. It looks better that a couple wants to adopt a child.” He slaps his hand against his chest. “We’re already married, and I’m not asking for any right to her.”

His voice cracks like he’s saying the opposite of what he wants. If Dart were to be a dad, he’d never relinquish his rights. He grew up with an unstable family. He learned from them what he never wanted to be.

Everything in me believes he would be present and supportive of a child if he had one.

“But we aren’t a couple,” I whisper, reminding him that although we are married, we haven’t been a couple for three years.

“Then let’s learn to be.” His hand slips from his chest. He lifts his head, standing taller.

I don’t know if we can. I don’t know if I can.

“How?” The word pops out before I can stop it, but I’m quick to clarify. “I’m not saying I agree, I’m just asking.”

He turns toward the window again, brows deeply creased, before he gazes back at me. “Date me?”

“Date my husband.” I laugh without humor.

“Get to know me again.” He waves toward me once more. “Let me get to know you.”

I tilt my head, not sure how I feel about this idea. “But in the end, we aren’t together.”

Dart sighs, frustration on his shoulders. “Let’s not talk about an end yet, Trin.” He steps closer to me, and I hold my ground.

“She said you have three months before the adoption is final. Give me those three months.”

“Why?” The question is breathless, and I inhale, hoping to draw in more oxygen. My chest constricts, accentuating the rapid hammering of my heart.

“Forever,” he groans, quiet and rough, emphasizing both the nickname and the reason he wants this.

“And what do I get out of this?”

He tips his head.

“You said give you these three months, but what do I get?” I realize it might sound like getting to know him, and him getting to know me, might not be enough, because I’m not certain it is. There’s still a lot of unspoken pain between us.

“At the end of three months, you’ll have Mirabelle.” He glances at her, though his eyes are sad and his expression tight. “She’ll be yours.”