“It does. Are you worried?”
“No. You're a good man with a huge heart. I know you'll always put us first.”
“Us. Us means more than just us,” he murmurs, pointing me between him and me.
“We're doubling our us in one fell swoop.”
“I wish I could double my time so easily.”
I laugh and move back slightly as a dessert plate appears, covered in an assortment of panellets and two small ramekins of Crema Catalana. “Don't we all.”
Fierce eyes meet mine, the tight grasp of his hand over the back of mine jolting. “Don't let me do the wrong thing.”
“Andrew,” I gasp, surprised by the sudden tone change. “What's wrong?”
“Fathers. Fathering. My dad, your dad, Declan as a dad. Me. Vince was a street kid and old Jorg stepped in like a father for him. Vince accused Declan and me of having daddy issues, and he's not wrong.”
“Hey. At least James was around. My dad...” I let my voice drift off, unsure what to say.
“It's hard being a grown-up, isn't it?”
I eye the one and only chocolate pastry on the tray and point. “Am I being childish if I say I want that all for myself?”
Big, booming laughter pours out of Andrew as he lets go of my hand and slides the entire dessert plate in front of me.
“Not childish at all. You're eating for three.”
“Then let's flag down Connie, because I need two more.”
“You deserve it, Amanda. You deserve everything.”
The bite of creamy chocolate is in my mouth as he says this. I answer with my mouth rudely full:
“You've given me everything I need or want, Mr. Ambitious.”
“Is there anything I've missed?” He's eyeing the treats on the table.
I look him over, carefully weighing my words as I swallow and reach for his hand.
“There is one thing.”
“Name it. I'll make it happen.”
“You.”
“Me?”
“I want more of you.”
Chapter 19
Andrew
“We need to talk.”
My words make her look at me with so much fear, I instantly regret them, kicking myself for not being better at this. But how can you do better when trying to tell your wife that her deadbeat father is about to be released from his prison term for vehicular manslaughter–and wants to see her?
If someone's an expert at this, Gina would have found them for me and I'd have paid whatever price they quoted.
Balancing Amanda's health and stress levels, the babies' safety, the very real possibility that Leo could go around me, and Amanda's need to know is damn near impossible.
So I’m going to do the adult thing.
Tell her.
Questions float in her eyes as she walks over to a chair, hands on the wooden back, and begins to sway. Her hips hurt less when she does this.
Which makes me think of her pain.
Which makes me think of early labor again.
Which makes me not want to say what I need to say.
Damn Leo for putting me in this position.
Damn him.
“What's wrong?”
“Nothing's technically wrong, but I have something sensitive to tell you, and I'm trying to figure out how to do this without upsetting you. You have the whole early labor thing, and I don't want–”
“Andrew.”
I sigh. “Right. Here goes: Your dad wants to see you.”
“My what?”
“Your dad.”
“I'm not going all the way to Iowa to see him. Not now.”
“He's not in Iowa. He’s in New Hampshire. Got out a year or so ago. He lives an hour and a half away.”
“He's that close?”
I nod.
“How long?”
“You mean, how long has he been there?”
“How long have you known?”
Damn. Caught.
“Long enough.”
“Andrew.”
“A few months. Security checks on him regularly.”
“And Leo–my dad–he reached out to you? Why not me?”
“He didn't want to upset you.”
“Andrew.”
“Fine.” One hand rakes through my hair nervously as I eye her belly. “A long time ago, I wrote him a letter.”
Oh boy. The look she gives me.
“Told him if he wanted to contact you, to go through me first.”
“You threatened him?”
“What? No! Of course not. I simply asked him to contact me if he wanted to talk to you.”
“Or else you'd...?”
“You make me sound like a gangster.”
“At best, what you did was paternalistic and infantilizing of me.”
“Excuse me? I was protecting you.”
“I didn't ask you to insert yourself into my relationship with my father.”
“Yes, you did.”
“When?”
“The day you married me.”
“See? Paternalistic!”
“I didn't want to see you get hurt.”
“But you did hurt me, Andrew. You took away my choice. I can handle being contacted by Leo just fine.”
“I wanted to keep you safe.”
“No, you wanted to control the outcome.”
“Same thing.”
“NOT the same thing! And I've wondered why my father stopped contacting me. Now I know!”
I am so confused. “What?”
“Leo used to write me. Here and there. It wasn't more than every six or eight months, but it was something. And then the letters stopped.” She thinks for a moment, suspicion growing in her expression. “Right around when we got married.”
My shoulders drop. “Damn.”
“You kept his letters from me?”
“I don't understand what you're asking.”
“You've been blocking me from seeing Leo's letters,” she says slowly, anger building.
Oh, no. She's got this all wrong. “No.” I shake my head. “I haven't received anything from him until today.”
“Why should I believe you?”
“Because I don't lie to you.”
Silence ticks by like hope dying. How did we get to this point? I take in her gorgeous form, so big and round, her body a sacrifice to my own blood. Nothing in the world allows me to give to her what she is offering me in the form of our children, but I have to try.
And being her shield is all I can offer.
“Honey.” I walk over and take her hand, which hangs in mine. The pit of my stomach drops as she looks away from me. This is a new level of anger, uncharted emotional waters. I'm treading water. I've capsized my own boat and have no idea where to find land.
Better figure out how to stay above water before I lose my strength.
Her silence makes the waters choppier.
“I haven't received any other letters from him, Amanda,” I
