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"Not yet." After strolling the rest of the way to him, I braced my hands on his forearms and leaned in to kiss Skylar's head. While my lips were still pressed against her soft skin, my gaze met his. Heat coiled inside me when I realized we were only inches apart.
His brown eyes were watchful, wary, and yet filled with their own brand of desire. "So, we're really doing this, then?"
I pulled back slowly and nodded. "Yeah. We're really doing this."
Relief hissed from his lungs, and a slow smile spread. "Good."
PICK
Eva had reassured me, but we still stayed quiet for the rest of the evening. After putting the kids to bed, we curled up on the couch together and found a sitcom to watch. I wrapped my arm around her shoulders and she rested her cheek on my chest.
At bedtime, we still didn't talk much as we readied ourselves for the night. A nervous tension thrummed through my bones. I turned off the light and waited until she climbed onto the mattress before I followed her under the sheets. And finally, I drew out the edgy breath I'd been holding, a little more certain she was really going to stay.
The nightlight by the crib brightened the room just enough to put a romantic glow on the atmosphere. Eva and I lay on our sides, facing each other, our hands tucked under our cheeks. We studied one another for a while without speaking. I wondered
what she was thinking, but I was too afraid to ask, so I let my lashes flutter closed.
Almost immediately, I could feel her mind start to whirl, and my guts knotted right back up as worry pierced me. If she called off our new arrangement, I didn't know how I'd survive it.
"Pick?"
Damn it.
I opened my eyes warily. "Yeah?"
Concern coated her gaze. "Is this wrong?"
I shook my head, trying not to lose it. "Why would it be wrong? It's no different than what we've been doing for the past two weeks."
She shrugged and bit her lip. "But I was only here because you needed help. Now . . . now I'm here because . . . I want to be."
Wow. Just hearing her say that warmed me up all over. I swallowed noisily, trying not to reach out and just yank her against me. "I still need help. Julian still needs a sitter."
"But it's different now. Can't you feel it? Me deciding to stay . . . it changed things."
Reaching out slowly, I caught her hand and squeezed her fingers. "Yeah, I feel it," I admitted. "But I still don't want you to go."
"I don't want to go either." Even as she said that, though, she slid her hand out from under mine, putting emotional distance between us.
Fuck, I hated emotional distance.
Confusion filled her eyes. "I know in my gut this is wrong, but I think I found my niche in life by being here. I mean, is it lame that I actually like being a homemaker? That I like watching kids? They're just . . . It's fulfilling to watch them learn every little thing, like how to reach out their hand to grab a hold of something. I like . . . it feels so satisfying when I manage to get them to stop crying after they've been upset. I like feeding them and cleaning them and dressing them. They're just these perfect miniature little people who have no clue how to be people yet. When I bring them down off a big cry, it's as if my super power just kicked in. I feel . . . rejuvenated."
I shook my head, my brow crinkling with confusion. "Why would that be lame? I think it's amazing."
She flushed and picked at a corner seam on her pillowcase. "I don't know. I just . . . where I grew up, domestic women who stayed at home, taking care of the house and watching the kids, were always looked down upon. If you wanted to get anywhere in the world, you went off to college and got a real job, so you could pay someone else to watch your kids if you ever had any. But being here these past few weeks, actually doing this . . . it's hard work. It takes effort, patience, perseverance, and more freaking energy than I ever thought I possessed. And yet, at the end of every day, I feel more fulfilled, more . . . I don't know . . . just satisfied with my life and myself than I'd ever felt before."
I reached out and covered her hand again, halting her nervous plucking. "I think what you're doing with those two children is just as important if not more important than any 'real' job with a time card and W2 could ever be. That other kind of life would be fine, if that's what you wanted. But you don't have to be something splashy and important to the world, not when you're the entire world to Skylar and Julian."
I shook my head. "I never had a mother. She abandoned me in the hospital where I was born. She didn't even name me. A couple of nurses dubbed me after their husbands. That's why I have three first names." Bringing her hand to my mouth, I kissed her palm reverently. "You have no idea what I would've given to have a mother as attentive as you are, someone my entire life revolved around. You make a difference, and it's a huge one. There's nothing silly or inconsequential about it."
Tears filled her eyes. "Boy, do you have a way with words, Patrick Jason Ryan."
"I do, don't I?" I smiled softly and reached out to flick a tear off her cheek.
She sniffed and brushed at her cheek too. "Is it bad of me to say I hope your wife never comes back?"
I blew out a long breath before whispering my own awful confession. "I hope she doesn't either."
