packed up the last few items into the basket. And shut it hard.
“Married couples do that.”
“We did.”
“Yes, Alaina, we did.” He clasped her shoulders. “We weren’t perfect. We still aren’t. But we have a chance here to build our family. We’ve been wanting this for a long time. Can you believe that much at least?”
He searched her face, scrutinized her expression. Cheeks ablaze, she tried to work out the harrowing emotions that knocked against each other inside of her like kids in bumper cars. He was asking for her trust. And she should trust him. They were married after all—but she had been close to having an affair, if Sage Harding was to be believed. What did all of that add up to?
Porter was practically a stranger to her. And his desire to have her put her faith in him frayed her nerves more. It didn’t make sense. The Porter she was meeting now had never given her a reason not to trust him. But deep down, something stopped her from giving herself over to him completely.
“Sure,” she said, knowing her answer was a brush-off and not able to come up with more than, “I believe you want to build a family.”
Dizziness hit. Her chest tightened. She felt a moment of panic over being confined even though he was just holding her. She knew the fear was unreasonable, but still, given what had happened in that past abusive relationship. she couldn’t help but feel nervous over how isolated she’d allowed herself to become. And how some might say Porter had taken away her resources by bringing her here where she wasn’t close to anyone, just as her old boyfriend had done before.
What did she really know about this man beyond that he was gentle with Thomas?
Her arms began to tingle. Alaina felt so boxed in by the weight of the past she remembered and the past she didn’t. Space. That’s what she needed. She shot up from their beach picnic, turned on her heel...
And ran.
The pounding of her feet hitting the ground reverberated in her mind. She hadn’t even noticed she had balled her hands into fists until she made it to the kitchen. The sticky sweet remains of a raspberry fell into the sink as she unclenched her fingers.
One deep breath. And then another.
There was no one to call. It was times like these that she desperately wished she could talk to her mother or father. They had always known what to say, how to help her parse out a situation. But they had died during her junior year of college. The memory of that moment, of that horrible phone call, was still fresh in her mind.
She’d give anything for her family to be intact.
Didn’t Thomas deserve the same? An intact, functional family? Parents who adored him? She already loved her son so much. And if she were being honest with herself, she wanted a family just as much as Porter seemed to. She wanted them to be a complete and intact unit.
More than her own happiness was at stake now.
And for the first time, she was more afraid of what might happen to her marriage if she remembered, than if she left those five years buried.
* * *
Relieved Thomas’s checkup had gone so well, Porter shut the door of the car behind his wife in the parking lot of the pediatrician’s office. This had been their first joint trip off the property since the family had left the hospital together last week. He glanced in the backseat, where Thomas smiled at him in his “Santa’s Little Helper” onesie.
The doctor had confirmed that Thomas was healing well. It would just take time. That seemed to be the theme of his life recently. Wait. Be patient.
It was damn hard to do sometimes. Porter strode around the car and positioned himself in the driver’s seat. On the one hand, he was grateful they were all still together. On the other hand, he felt as if things had stalled since their beach picnic. She had built a wall around herself and he didn’t understand why. Since that kiss, she’d been antsy, jumpy over being touched. Only when they were with Thomas were they both at ease. He didn’t doubt for an instant—she loved their son every bit as much as he did. That baby boy had them wrapped around his finger.
Porter had built multimillion-dollar homes around the country. He’d built a billion-dollar corporation on his own, with no help from his wealthy mother. And yet those accomplishments didn’t mean as much to him as coaxing a big belch from Thomas or laughing with Alaina as they struggled to work a tiny flying fist into a sleeper.
He wanted a family no matter what. People accused him of being determined at work, but that was nothing compared to how hard he would devote himself to making this come together. He wouldn’t give up what he was building in his life. It was a helluva lot more important than any structure put up by his corporation.
Porter started the car and adjusted the radio. “Would you like to pick up carryout on our way home or stop by a deli? The weather’s perfect to eat on the deck.”
Would she be interested in unwinding later in the hot tub? He didn’t know what to expect from her after she’d welcomed his kiss on the beach, and then proceeded to push him away.
“Porter, do you mind if we do something away from the beach house? I don’t want to be cooped up all day. It’s too nice of an afternoon to spend inside.” Alaina stared out the window as they drove past a team of reindeer made of bent willow branches in the courtyard of the doctor’s office.
A smile pulled at his lips. Perhaps this patience thing was paying off. Alaina hadn’t wanted to do anything outside of the house since they’d arrived there. This was a good sign. Maybe she was beginning to trust him.
“Of course. I have to swing by a job site for a final walk-through. Then the rest of the day is ours.” He reached for her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.
“I don’t mind that at all. Besides, I’d like to see you in action.”
She flashed him a quick smile as she turned the radio to a Christmas station. Her head bopped along to a jazzy rendition of an old classic as they drove through town, where lighted white snowflakes hung from palm trees lining the village’s main thoroughfare.
It didn’t take long to reach the job site. This was an up-and-coming section of town. The beach stretched and wound lazily in front of them, beyond the Spanish-influenced mansion Porter needed to inspect.
“Porter, this place is beautiful. It’s so exotic looking.” Her eyes darted to the lattice that was pressed against the side of the house between the garage and door. Scores of plants were strategically placed around the yard.
He slowed the car to a stop. “It is. It’s been my favorite recent project. Do you want to stay in the car or come with me?” He searched her eyes for a clue as to what she was thinking. She glanced behind him, over his shoulder to the two men who were talking to each other by the large arched doorway.
“I want to come. But first, can you tell me who they are?” She gestured toward the men.
“The taller man with the buzz cut is my second-in-command. His name is Oliver Flournoy. He’s a smooth-talking guy, but he’s still single. The man he is talking to is Micah Segal, our CFO. Sometimes we go out with him and his wife, Brianna. They have a toddler, Danny. He adores you. Like all kids do.”
“Okay.
