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I put my arm around him and kiss his shoulder, because there’s nothing to say.
“When he looked at me, I could see he was scared,” he murmurs. “I saw his face in my dreams for months afterward. Still do, sometimes.”
“I’m so sorry.” I rub his back. “Kennedy said you started doing extreme sports after that. Taking risks.”
“Kennedy talks too much,” he says wryly.
“She said you had nine lives, but you’ve used up five.”
He chuckles. “Yeah, maybe.”
“She said maybe it made you think of your own mortality. Is that true?”
“Kinda, I guess. I couldn’t work out why he’d died, and I hadn’t. Who’d made that choice? God? Fate? Is it all chance? One step to the left, and it would have been me under those rocks, and Christian trying to save me? Mum said maybe I was still here because God thought I had something important to do, but that just made me angry, because that meant God placed less value on Christian’s life than mine. And it meant there was an onus on me and Kip and the others to make our lives worthwhile. I didn’t want that responsibility. And I guess I tried to tempt God—risked my neck several times to see what he’d do. Would he keep saving me? Or would he give up if I tried too much?” His lips twist.
“And now?” I ask softly.
He meets my eyes. “Now I have something to live for.”
“The babies, you mean?”
He smiles. “Them as well.”
Oh, he means me. Pleasure lifts my heart. He says the nicest things.
He kisses my forehead. “I’ve got a few emails to answer. Take your time. And poke around all you want. I have no secrets from you.” He goes out.
I sit there for a while, looking at the photo, then put it back into his drawer and push it closed. I put some clothes away—damn, the man is untidy—then go into the living room, and find him sitting at his computer workstation, reading on one of the screens, lost in thought. I lean against the door jamb and watch him for a moment. Coldplay’sYellowis playing on his phone, and he’s humming along absently as he reads and occasionally clicks his mouse.
I still haven’t processed yesterday’s events. His outburst in the apartment completely threw me. And then there was the way he dealt with Reggie, and how he ran across the road and then nearly yanked the private investigator out of the car window by his tie. He’s cocky and arrogant sometimes, bossy and dominant and masculine, and yet there’s a touch of vulnerability about him too, and oh my God, I’m already more than half in love with him.
He glances over then, and when he sees me watching him, he smiles and gets to his feet. He comes over and rests his hands on my bump. “How are the boys?”
“They’re fine.” When he sang Lennon’sBeautiful Boyto them last night, and the babies moved in response to his voice, I could see how touched he was. We made these children, him and me. The realization is only just sinking in. Our one night of enthusiastic, amazing sex resulted in the creation of two lives. I’m so stunned and awed by it that I’m walking around in a daze.
He takes my right hand in his, and we move slowly to the music. “I’ve been thinking,” he says, “we should learn to dance.”
“What do you mean?”
“We could watch some videos on the TV, then practice the steps. We’ll start with the waltz, and the foxtrot, and the rumba, and salsa… What do you think? We’ll teach ourselves.”
“I’d love to. Although I don’t know how elegant I’ll be. It won’t be long before I’m going to have trouble seeing my feet.”
He chuckles. “You’ll feel feather-light when you’ve had them.”
I feel a flutter of fear. “I can’t think that far ahead.”
He strokes my hand with his thumb. “That’s okay. There’s plenty of time to get used to the idea. I’ve made another appointment with Mathew for Wednesday, and I’ll come with you. We can talk about any questions we want to ask. Maybe make a list.”
“Okay.”
“Then over the next few months we can start finding out about the birth and what happens. We’ll go slow. Take our time.”
“Can’t I have them beamed out of me like in Star Trek?”
He grins. “That would be cool.”
He spins me away from him, turns me around, then pulls me back into his arms.
