style="font-size:15px;"> “I like having a grown-up girl here, Daddy,” Hayley announced and Matthew nodded in agreement.
Callie stopped chopping and stood still. She glanced toward Noah and saw he’d stopped his task also. He was staring at her, a deeply smoldering stare that made her knees weak.
“So do I,” he said quietly.
And then, without warning, Hayley hugged her, gripping Callie’s leg as hard as her small arms would allow. Callie stilled her task, rooted to the spot. Her heart surged in her chest. Suddenly she was all feelings. All anguish. All memory. All hurt. The little girl lingered, waiting, and Callie instinctively knew what the child wanted.
She placed the knife on the counter. I can’t do this. I can’t.
But she did. She reached down and touched Hayley’s head, without looking anywhere but directly at the wall in front of her. Her fingertips felt the soft, little-girl hair and her womb contracted instantly, rolling like a wave. Hayley lifted her chin and Callie’s hand touched her face.
Oh, God … help me here. Help me not want this. Help me not feel this.
Her throat felt suddenly thick, burning with emotion. All her fears, all her longings bubbled to the surface. She looked at Noah again and sighed. How could she possibly explain what she felt? To explain would mean to be exposed, to be vulnerable, naked in front of him.
Hayley giggled and Callie patted her head gently a couple of times before removing her hand. Once she’d broken the connection her womb flipped again, but differently this time. She felt empty, bereft.
She looked at Noah then and saw he was watching her with such searing intensity she had to lean against the counter for support. But to have his child? An adorable child like Hayley. What a dream that would be.
Not a dream. A fantasy.
“Hayley, take your seat,” Noah said quietly. “Dinner will be ready soon.”
The kids all whooped and raced for their favorite spot at the table.
“This is done,” Callie said and grabbed the bowl.
Meals were usually a quiet affair for Callie. She ate alone most of the time, unless Fiona was around or she offered to make lunch for Joe. But this was something else. The kind of meal she remembered from her childhood, when the kitchen had been the centerpiece of the home. Lots of laughter, lots of spillage and wipe-ups and grubby faces.
Family.
Another woman’s family, she reminded herself.
But I’m here … and I feel such a part of them. Like somehow … I was made for this.
Callie’s salad was a success, with Jamie kindly telling her it was the best he’d tasted—even better than his Aunt Evie’s.
Afterward, she volunteered to load the dishwasher while Noah put the twins to bed with a story. Jamie chatted to her as she worked, telling her about school and how Fiona was his favorite teacher and how he liked to make things and that he wanted to learn to play the trumpet. Then he told her he would choose a movie to watch and disappeared down the hallway. By the time Noah returned, the kitchen sparkled and the coffeemaker gurgled.
“I helped myself,” she said. “Although I can’t find any cups.”
He opened a high cupboard, extracted a pair of matching mugs and placed them on the counter. “Milk, no sugar.”
The way she liked hers, too.
Jamie reappeared, clutching Madagascar in one hand and a Harry Potter sequel in the other. They unanimously chose Madagascar. Callie took her coffee into the living room and sat down in the corner of the long sofa. She placed her coffee on the side table. Jamie said something secretly to his father then excused himself and raced down the hall.
“He likes you,” Noah said quietly as he set up the DVD player.
“How do you know that?”
He turned his head and smiled. “You’ll see.”
Jamie returned a few minutes later. He asked her to hold out her hand and dropped something onto her palm. She stared at the thin leather strip threaded with dark, shiny stones.
“It’s a bracelet,” he said, pointing to the stones. “They’re hematites.”
Callie touched the smooth stones. “It’s lovely.”
“I made it,” he announced proudly. “You can have it.”
“You made this?” she held it up. “You’re very clever. But I couldn’t possibly take it.”
He looked so disappointed she longed to snatch the words back. “You don’t like it?”
Callie rubbed the stones again. “Of course I do. I just thought that if you made something this pretty you might want to give it to someone … like a girl.”
Jamie frowned. “You’re a girl.”
“Smart kid,” Noah said as he sat at the other end of the sofa. “My sister Mary-Jayne makes jewelry,” he explained. “She lets the kids craft pieces when they stay with her.” He looked at his son. “He doesn’t part with them easily.”
Noah watched her reaction. She looked increasingly uncomfortable. Jamie was a warm, generous child and incredibly easy to love. And although she’d interacted appropriately all evening, he sensed something else was happening to her.
His suspicions were elevated. Was it him making her nervous? Noah couldn’t be sure. In the kitchen she’d been relaxed and chatty. When it was just the two of them she usually looked fired up and ready for anything. But then Hayley had hugged her, and Noah had witnessed reluctance in her response to his daughter. The realization landed on his shoulders.
The kids … it was the kids. He felt sure of it.
How can she not like my kids? They’re unbelievable. Everyone likes my kids.
Finally, she spoke. “In that case, I would love to keep this. Thank you.”
That settled, he flicked the play button and sank back into the sofa. With Jamie between them she seemed light years away from him. Which was probably exactly how she wanted it.
Jamie fell asleep after about twenty minutes. Noah gathered him up and carried him to his bedroom. He tucked him in bed, kissed his forehead and returned to the living room.
She hadn’t moved. He flipped the DVD to a CD and waited until the music filtered around the room before heading back to the sofa.
“Would you like some more wine?” he asked before he sat.
She shook her head. “I should probably go home.”
Noah glanced at the clock on the wall. It was barely nine o’clock. He didn’t want her to go. He had to say what was on his mind. “I’m not a threat to you, Callie.”
She looked into her lap. “I
