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“Not this time. I still have a few things to do. But let’s get together again soon. Maybe I’ll even bring Harper with me.” He hugged her again, and headed down the steps, lifting his hand in goodbye.
“Thank you for the flowers,” she called after him.
“It was my pleasure.”
* * *
Harper was finishing up a dress when James returned to the house. She threaded the needle through the fabric to attach the embellishments, edging the little-girl version of the dress with a braided ribbon. She was concentrating hard, her brows pulled together in a deep-v, as she made sure the stitches were even and invisible to the naked eye.
“Hey.”
James was at the bottom of the stairs, wearing jeans and a navy Henley, the sleeves pushed up to his elbow.
“Hi.” She felt that familiar warmth flood her veins. His top was tight, enough for her to see the outlines of his muscles beneath. But it wasn’t his body that got her attention, it was his face. “Is everything okay?” she asked him.
“Yeah, all good. Why?”
“I don’t know. You just look different.”
“Different how?” A half-smile curled his lips as he walked over to the sewing table.
She looked at him, trying to figure it out. “I can’t put my finger on it. Maybe it’s your eyes. They look lighter. Are you wearing contacts?”
He laughed. “No. But they sometimes look a different color depending on what I’m wearing. My mom used to call them chameleon eyes. It’s probably the shirt I’ve got on. The darker the clothes the lighter they look.”
“I believe you, doctor.” She grinned and glanced down at her bump. “I wonder what color eyes this little one will have.”
“Blue.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Most Caucasian babies are born with blue eyes. They don’t change color until they’re around a year old.”
“What?” Her mouth dropped open. “How could I not have known that? I don’t remember reading about that on the baby sites.” She frowned. “God, there’s so much I don’t know. Like how to hold the baby without hurting it’s neck, or how to change a diaper. I’m going to be the worst mom in the world.”
“Harper…”
“Seriously, this poor kid got the short straw. I know nothing about babies. What idiot decided to let me loose with a child?”
“Harper,” he said again, his voice soft. “It’s okay. Why would you know that if you didn’t need to?”
“You knew it.”
“I worked on a maternity ward during my medical training. It’s my job to know that kind of thing.”
She could feel tears filling her eyes. “I’m going to mess this all up,” she whispered. “I know it.”
Gently, he took her hands in his, and pulled her up from the chair. She looked at him, blinking back the tears. Even through the haze she could see his beauty. He pulled her into his arms, his hands pressing against her back. God, he was warm. She nestled her face against his ridged chest and breathed him in.
“Parenting isn’t about knowing everything,” he said, pressing his lips against her head. “It’s about listening to your instincts, but also being willing to take advice when you need to.” He slid his thumb under her chin, tipping her face up until their gazes met. “It’s about talking and listeni
ng, and more than anything, it’s about love. And I know you, Harper. You’ve got more than enough love for this baby.”
He wiped the dampness from her cheeks, his eyes not leaving hers. “Do you know how beautiful you look right now?” His voice was low. Full of need. It made the muscles in her legs clench.
“No.” Her smile was watery.
He traced his finger along her jaw, her cheek, and the bridge of her nose. Then he reached her mouth, slightly open with the wonder of him. Her bottom lip trembled as he slid his finger along it.
