Page 82 of Worthy of Sunsets and Second Chances

“Yeah, I’m okay.” I turn to look at him with a different kind of tears in my eyes than just a short time ago. “This is stunning, I can’t believe I get to live here.”

“You do,” Eli says with a frown.

“Can I see more?” I ask, not sure why I am looking for permission from him.

“Sure, come on.” He sets my laundry basket by the back door, locking it, then leads me down the new hallway to the living room.

Flipping a light switch and stepping aside, Eli reveals a stunning Christmas tree set up in front of the windows glittering with soft multicolored lights. There are a mix of pink ornaments all over the tree, and I even see one that looks like a tiny hair dryer.

There’s no furniture yet in this room, because I haven’t picked it out, but the floors are a stunning wide-plank hardwood that match the kitchen and run throughout the first floor. The possibility this room holds is exciting, and my imagination whirls thinking of different ways to make it feel more mine.

“Turn around,” Eli says close to my ear, spinning me to face the back of the room, the wall opposite of the shimmering tree.

I let out a gasp and sink to my knees. Eli goes down right with me and holds me as I pour out more emotion than I thought possible.

“You did this?”

“Of course I did.” Eli kisses my temple. I want to pull away from him, but I can’t.

“It’s too much,” I say, looking at the stunning floor-to-ceiling bookshelves that take up the whole wall. Hand-built like the ones he made for the library, but these are more detailed. Eli obviously spent a lot of time making sure they were perfect . . . and these were absolutely not in my budget. Crown molding, a stunning navy-blue color, which remind me of his eyes, that will highlight the books . . . and a rolling-fucking-ladder. Every book girl’s dream come true.

“Nothing is too much for you, sweetheart. I would rebuild the world for you.” Eli holds my face in his hands and looks me in my eyes. “I am going to give you time, but I’m not giving up on us. You are mine and we are going to work whatever this shit is out. Whatever made you run today. Do you hear me?”

All I can do is nod.

“Good.” He kisses me firmly. “Lock the doors again behind me,” Eli orders, standing up and leaving me gaping at him from the empty living room floor.

64

Eli

Christmas is in two days. I’m on shift. My mom has Wren, both of whom are feeling much better, thank goodness. And Kendra has not spoken to me in days. The silence, this distance is torturous.

I watched through my windows like a fucking stalker as hers would illuminate and go dim. The studio lights burned long into the night and blazed too early in the morning, making me wonder if she even went to bed at all. I had to get at least some sleep so I could function here and at home taking care of my baby girl.

Time. I told her I would give her some. But the clock is ticking, and I wanted us to be together—as a little family unit—for Christmas morning. I didn’t care where we spent it as long as it was together.

In the past I have fucked up and sent Kendra running, having no clue what might have been the trigger. This time though? I lit the match, threw the grenade, exploded my own life. How many times did I tell myself to take it slow with her? To be cautious and not scare her off? And then I had to go drop “our kids” into the middle of a casual lunch conversation, as if we’d ever even discussed it at all.

Of course she panicked.

Wren is here, sure. But it’s different. She is mine. I want her to be officially Kendra’s too, eventually. Having our own kids? Seeing Kendra’s stomach swell with my child and knowing that I actually get to be a part of the process, making decisions together, not to just have fatherhood dropped on me out of the blue? It would be incredible.

The idea of building a life and a family with Kendra doesn’t scare me anymore. The idea that she might not want to do that with me does.

“Kendra, I know you’re in there. Open the door.” I knock again on the front door of the cabin.

She squeaks from behind the door, “Nobody’s here by that name. Kendra moved.”

Rolling my eyes, I say, “Sweetheart, open the damn door, please. I really don’t want to have to break it down and make more work for myself, but I will at this point if I have to.”

Long minutes pass before I finally hear the lock slide, the door swings wide, and my woman’s beautiful face fills the frame. Her eyes are red and puffy, and dark circles from lack of sleep rim her lower lids. Kendra’s bottom lip wobbles at the sight of me, and she grips the door handle, knuckles blanching.

“Oh, it’s you!” She feigns surprise.

“Yup, it’s me. Time’s up. Let me in.” I crowd her, but she doesn’t move her pixie-sized body to let me step inside.

“I don’t know if this is a good idea.”