Page 46 of His Daughter

I followed her onto the balcony because I couldn’t help myself. She wrapped her arms around herself. I shrugged off my jacket and draped it over her shoulders without asking. She pulled it tighter. Didn't argue.

That was new.

"Can I ask you something?" she said.

"You can ask me anything."

"Why didn’t we ever talk about…” I watched her throat move. “Why did we never talk about that night?"

I gripped the railing. "I don’t know."

Her dark eyes met mine. “What if…what if I wanted to talk about it?”

The air between us vibrated. She was close enough to kiss. I knew she'd let me. I could see it in her eyes, in the slight part of her lips. Her body was angled toward mine. The inch between us was charged and shrinking.

But before I could even move, the balcony door opened. A burst of music and laughter filled the air. A couple stepped out, champagne glasses in hand, mid-conversation. They saw us and smiled apologetically.

The moment shattered.

Thea straightened and pulled the jacket tighter. "We should go."

The drive home was quiet. Thomas drove. Thea looked out the window. Lena was at the penthouse with the night nurse recommended by Dr. Kaplan.

Thea went straight to the nursery when we arrived. I followed. I told myself I was checking on Lena. I told myself it was a father's instinct. Both were true. Neither was the whole truth.

She was leaning over the crib, adjusting the blanket, and touching Lena's forehead with the back of her hand. Lena seemed to be sleeping.

I walked in and stood beside her. Both of us looked down at Lena.

My mind was loud. I was attracted to her. I couldn't pretend otherwise. But this was complicated. The last time I let someone in, the last time I broke my rules, kept the penthouse, let myself consider something permanent, I ended up with a broken heart.

But Thea wasn't Kira. Kira wanted to be seen by a man who couldn't see her. Thea didn't want anything from me. She didn't want my money. She didn't want my world. She didn't want my name or my status.

She wanted nothing, and that was the confusing problem — I didn't know how to be wanted for something I couldn't provide.

I sighed and leaned down into the shadows of the crib to kiss Lena goodnight. I quickly realized my error.

My face was close to Thea's…inches. I could feel her breathing. I turned my head. She turned hers. And we were right there, suspended over the crib, close enough that the decision was already half-made before either of us made it.

I kissed her.

Or she kissed me. Her mouth was soft and warm. She tasted like champagne. My hands found her hips without thinking. She didn't pull away. Not at first. For ten seconds — the longest, most honest ten seconds of my life — she kissed me back.

Then she pulled away. Her hands came up between us. She stepped back.

"You can't…I can't…we can't…"

She turned. She walked out of the nursery. Her footsteps moved down the hall. The guest room door closed.

I stood there. My hands were still raised, holding the shape of her hips. I looked down at my hands and didn't recognize them.

THIRTEEN

THEA

The morning after the kiss, I made coffee without speaking. The following morning, we greeted each other and moved around the kitchen in silence.

By the third morning, we had it down to a choreography.