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Chapter Twelve
Camryn floated through the house, her feet barely touching the floor.
With Blane’s arm firmly anchored around her waist, his body heat enveloping her in a warm, intimate cocoon, and his low, soothing tone washing over as he spoke oftheirplans for the future, she couldn’t be happier.
Until they entered the master bedroom and her dreams of happily-ever-after blew away on the brisk ocean breeze from the open window.
“What’s that little nook over there for?”
She had to ask the question, needing to hear him say it even though she already knew the answer.
The rest of the palatial home screamed family, from the huge rumpus room to the games room, from the five spare bedrooms to the family-friendly meals area, and the little added-on space within the grand master bedroom could only be for one thing.
A makeshift nursery.
Large enough to fit a cradle and feeding chair, and in Blane’s case, a bundle of futile dreams.
How could she have been so stupid? She’d meant to tell him about her fertility issues as soon as she realized she loved him,but had been so wrapped up in their reconciliation, on a high after hearing he loved her as much as she loved him, that the truth had taken a back seat to their reunion.
They’d never discussed having children when they’d met in Rainbow Creek. Heck, they’d practically been kids themselves. Ironically, it wouldn’t have been an issue back then. But what she’d gone through the last few years would have an impact now, with the potential to ruin any chance of happiness before they’d really begun.
“That’s a temporary baby nook,” he said, his bashful smile breaking her heart. “My sisters have two kids apiece and were always talking about the risk of SIDS being reduced dramatically if you keep the baby in your room for the first six months, so I figured it was easier to add the extra room into the plans now rather than fiddle with the house later.”
He made it sound so logical, as if planning for future babies was the most natural thing in the world. Maybe it was, but not for her.
She’d given up on that dream around the same time she’d given up on finding him.
“Hey, don’t you like it?”
He snuggled up to her from behind, sliding his arms around her waist and holding her close, his chin resting on her head as she blinked rapidly, the sudden sting of tears burning her eyes and clogging her throat.
“It’s not that.” She cleared her throat several times, knowing she had to tell him the truth, hating what this would do to them.
He wanted kids. Probably a whole band of ragamuffin, beach-combing ruffians to fill every room of this fabulous house with love and laughter.
She could see the vision so clearly in her head, a vision she’d deliberately obliterated when she’d hobbled from the hospital that last time.
But now, in this man’s arms, in her dream house, the vision was real, very real, and she wanted it as much as he did.
Sadly, wanting something so badly you could taste it and having it come true were world’s apart.
She had to tell him.
Turning in the circle of his arms, concern replaced the tenderness in his eyes as her stricken gaze met his.
“What’s wrong? Am I moving too fast? I know we never talked about kids but I thought—”
“It’s not that.”
She laid a finger against his lips, wishing she could trace its contours, cover them with hers, and lose herself in the moment, effectively eliminating the need for painful truths.
But she had to do this. It was the only way if they were to have any chance, remote as it was.
With her heart aching from the unfairness of it all, and the growing confusion on his face, she lowered her hand and eased out of his embrace.
“I don’t think I can have children.”
His eyes widened in shock, the cobalt flecks sparking to life. She couldn’t bear witnessing his devastation so she traversed the room to an enormous window overlooking the ocean, and pushed aside the flimsy chiffon sheers to brace against the frame and stare at the endless azure expanse.
