nodded once, shoving up from the rocker. “I know. It’s just difficult feeling like I bring so little to the table right now.”
“You told me once that marriage isn’t always fifty-fifty. The pendulum swings back and forth.” His mind drifted back to when she’d spoken those words.
She’d been so angry. He’d come home with a cast on his wrist, fresh out of the emergency room because he’d fallen off a scaffold while inspecting a work site. He’d broken his wrist, but he hadn’t wanted to worry her. She’d made it clear she should have been called and included, allowed to help him and drive him home. She’d wanted to tend him and he’d wanted to get to change clothes to go back to work...
He damn well wouldn’t let his job interfere with repairing his family now.
Porter felt Thomas drift off to sleep again, his body relaxing. Later he would tell Alaina the baby hadn’t been hungry. His leg had been aching from the weight of the cast and the surgery. Alaina felt insecure enough right now. “Let’s pass over the nursery monitor to the woman paid to stay awake.”
“Sure, but I’m not tired. Maybe it has something to do with that month-long nap I took.”
He stifled a laugh to keep from waking the baby, glad that she could joke about their ordeal. He set Thomas in his crib again, stroking the baby’s head for a few seconds before turning the monitor back on. Porter nodded to the door and walked into the hall. The night nanny, Mrs. Marks, poked her head out of her bedroom, waved with her puzzle book and ducked into the nursery.
Porter held out a hand to his wife. “Want to see the beach view from the balcony? It was too foggy at supper time to enjoy much. The Christmas lights along the yachts will be more visible now.”
“Yachts?”
He winced. From the beginning, she hadn’t been comfortable with some parts of their wealthy lifestyle. She’d grown up with hardworking parents who ran a beach food cart in North Carolina’s Outer Banks. Their business had paid the bills, but hadn’t provided much in the way of extras. What would she say when he told her one of those yachts anchored off the shore was theirs?
“Forget it. You should rest even if you can’t sleep.”
“I can make decisions for myself,” she said with blue fire in her eyes. “Show me the lights.”
“Right this way,” he said, once again extending his hand to her. Gingerly, she took it, but her grip was loose, as if she was ready to tear away from him at any moment.
Porter led them down the stairs, guided by the muted twinkle of Christmas lights that were twined with garland and wrapped around the banister.
There was an audible silence that followed them, but Porter tried to focus on the fact that she had chosen to come with him instead of retreating to the privacy of her room. It was a good sign.
They reached the stairway landing where the sleek black baby grand piano stood beneath one of Porter’s favorite portraits: Alaina in her wedding gown. Her hair had been curled in loose waves that framed her face and the lace wedding gown accentuated her slender figure. She had looked like a princess that day. And it was Porter’s renewed intention to make sure he treated her like royalty so she would want to stay once her memory came back. So the good now would overshadow the bad then. That she could forgive and move forward with him and Thomas, building a future.
And if her memory didn’t return? He still needed to convince her to stay and build that life with him and their son. Family was everything and he refused to lose his.
Alaina squeezed his hand as they passed in front of the portrait. He watched her gaze lock on the photograph. She didn’t say anything for several minutes, and he didn’t push her as they strode out onto the patio that overlooked the Atlantic.
Rebuilding his family was a game of growing trust. And she deserved to raise questions without him dumping information on her. He wanted to give her the space she needed to realize she belonged here.
“Tell me about our wedding.” The words came out almost like a prayer. Soft. Earnest.
“There’s a photo album around the house somewhere. And plenty of extra pictures on the computer.”
“But here’s the bridal portrait, and it doesn’t tell me anything. Not really. I feel a disconnect with the person in the pictures you’ve already shown me. Maybe if you tell me, then I will recognize the emotions of the moment.”
“Maybe?” His heart hammered.
“Men don’t get all emotional about weddings.”
He considered her for a moment. She dropped his hand and moved to the piano bench. She sat with her back against the keys, eyes fixed across the room and on the ocean. The Christmas lights from the yachts illuminated the edges of her face, framing her in an otherworldly glow. Damn. She was gorgeous, even when she was stormy. He wanted her in his bed now as much as he ever had. But he wanted to put his family back together even more, and he had to remain focused on the end goal.
Quietly he offered, “I was happy the day we married.”
It was true. He had been so entranced by her sense of the world, by the family they could make together, that he hadn’t been able to marry her quickly enough. They’d started trying for children right away. His mother had told him that he and Alaina should take time to cement their relationship. He hadn’t given much thought to that—until now.
“How long had we known each other?” Her eyes searched his. He could feel her trying to grasp hold of the past. Of who they were.
“We met a year prior. We were engaged for four months of that.”
She slid over on the bench and motioned for him to sit next to her. He sat sideways so he could look at her directly.
“Why the rush?”
“We loved each other, knew it was right. Why wait?”
“I wasn’t pregnant?”
“No, you weren’t. We were never able to conceive.”
It had been no one’s fault. And they had Thomas now. They had taken in a child who desperately needed a home and stability. And somehow, that seemed to soften the animosity they had felt. They’d agreed to a temporary truce and now he planned to make them a permanent family.
“I hate being dependent on you for all my memories.” Her eyes were shining with frustration. But, Porter realized, the frustration wasn’t entirely directed at him.
He gently lifted a wisp of hair out of her face and tucked it behind her ear. “Then tell me what your dream wedding day would be like and that will be our wedding memory.”
Her eyes went whimsical, a smile pushing dimples into her cheeks. “I would want to get married at a museum, or some historic site on the grounds, but with a preacher there.”
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