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“I didn’t know you were here.” He sat close to her on the sofa, raking his fingers through his golden hair. “Or that you were planning to come here tonight.” His gaze dropped to her concert T-shirt and he gave a sleepy grin. “How was the concert?”
Unable to suppress her pleasure at seeing him, Blair told him, enthusing over the performance and how she and Reesee had danced and sung along.
“Sounds like you had fun. I’m glad you went.” He leaned his head back against the sofa, yawning. “Your daughter is something else, Blair.”
“Yes, she is.” Had she just slid closer to him? “She’s the most precious part of my life. Did she give you any problems?”
“Only that she’s smart as a whip and kept me on my to
es. I swear nothing slips past her.” Rubbing his hand over his face, he stretched and Blair slid another inch his way. “She soaked in every word, everything I said and did tonight.”
Blair nodded. Addy was a sponge. “I’m amazed at how smart she is.”
Hair ruffled, eyelids heavy with recent sleep, he grinned. “Not that you’re biased.”
“Just a little.” His body heat lured her to curl into his arms the way her daughter had been. “I worry I’m somehow not giving her everything she needs and she’s going to suffer for it. I try so hard to be all she needs.”
Oz wrapped his arm around her and hugged her close. “You do a great job.”
Oh, heaven. His arms felt so good. His solid chest beneath her cheek felt even better.
She snuggled closer, slipping her arm between the sofa and his lower back. She pressed her palm into the curve of his back, felt the coiled strength in his muscles. “I often wonder.”
“Being a single parent can’t be easy. Hell, being a parent period isn’t easy, single or otherwise.” His fingers traced over her free arm. “You shouldn’t have to do this alone, Blair.”
“Addy’s father died before she was born.” She gave the same answer she’d been giving for years, the same answer she gave to anyone who asked. Giving that answer to Oz seemed inadequate.
“What happened?”
Blair moistened her lips. She suspected Oz knew Addy’s father had died. “Chris died about a month before I found out I was pregnant with Addy.”
“How did he die?”
Blair’s throat tightened. She didn’t want to talk about Chris. Not with Oz. Not with anyone. She’d never spoken of what had happened. Not ever.
She wasn’t sure she could.
Blair rubbed her cheek against the comfort she found in Oz’s arms, praying she’d somehow absorb his strength. “He had an accident.”
Oz’s hold on Blair tightened. He hadn’t a right to ask about Addy’s father, but the question had slipped out. He blamed his slip on the dream he’d awakened from. A dream where he and Blair were a family with Addy. Where he’d been Addy’s father. Blair had been his wife. He should look at the dream as a nightmare, but instead a warm, fuzzy nostalgia had turned his brain to cotton.
Probably he was still half-asleep, and in the light of the day he’d cringe, face life’s realities.
He wasn’t a permanent part of Blair’s life. He had no right to know the intimate details of her past.
But he wanted to know.
He wanted to know everything about her. Every little detail that made her tick. Every little detail of the man whom she’d once loved so he could figure out what had made the guy worthy of her love, worthy of the precious little girl sleeping upstairs.
“He went sailing.” Blair’s voice was barely above a whisper.
Sailing? Foreboding filled Oz. He’d never heard how Chris had died, had never known any of the details.
Sailing?
Oh, hell.
He’d taken Addy sailing, had let her hold the wheel as they’d watched the sunset. She’d seemed thrilled by the trip. He hadn’t seen any signs of grief or fear, but hell, what did he know about kids? Other than Addy, he hadn’t spent time around anyone underage since he was underage.
