Mike wrapped the robe around her, then tucked his arm around her waist. “Ready? Do you want me to get a wheelchair?”
As he’d anticipated, she frowned at the idea.
“I can walk,” she insisted, setting out a little stiffly.
Outside the nursery window, she scanned the bassinets until her gaze fell on their son. “There he is, Mike. Look, he’s blowing little bubbles in his sleep.”
“Just like you,” he teased.
She regarded him with indignation. “I do not.”
“Sure, you do. I was just sitting there watching you. You’re both adorable when you sleep.”
“Mike Marshall, you are a bald-faced liar.”
He chuckled. “Okay, maybe I was wrong about the bubbles, but you do snore.”
She swatted him. “You’re just saying that so you won’t feel so bad about the fact that I haven’t let you in my bedroom.”
“I was in your bedroom not five minutes ago,” he reminded her. “That’s how I know for a fact that you snore.”
“If you want me to believe that, you’ll have to taperecord it.”
“Then you’ll have to let me move into your room with you. It could take several nights to get convincing documentation.”
“Oh, no, you don’t. If you can’t get it in one night, right here in the hospital, then it doesn’t happen.”
“Come on back to bed. I’ll get one of the nurses to come in and witness it firsthand. Will you believe an impartial observer?”
“Not likely,” she said, after taking one last look at the baby. “You can charm those women into saying anything you want them to. I saw you wheedle a dinner tray out of one of them.”
“That was for you,” he protested, walking her slowly down the hall. “I knew you had to be starved.”
“The point is you were able to get your way, even though it was way past dinnertime.”
“If I’m so good, how come I can’t talk you into coming back to San Francisco with me?”
For just an instant, he thought he saw pure longing in her eyes, but then it was gone. She crawled gingerly back into the bed without answering.
“Jane?”
“I can’t,” she whispered. “I want to, but I can’t.”
“Couldn’t you just give it a try?” he pleaded. “Maybe for a few months? They’re not expecting you back at school this year anyway, right? Come home with me and see how it goes. Let me give you the perfect life we always imagined we’d have.”
A tear spilled over and washed down her cheek. Mike relented. “Never mind. It’s not the time to talk about it.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” he said, trying not to blame her for feelings that were so entrenched they might never get past them. He tucked the covers back around her, then brushed a kiss across her forehead. “Get some sleep.”
Her eyes drifted closed, then struggled back open. “Mike—”
“Hush. It’s okay.”
“No, you don’t understand. I just wanted to say thank you.”
“For what?”
“For being here. For my baby.”
“Our baby,” he said fiercely. “He’s our baby, Janie.” But she was already asleep.
* * *
The baby’s homecoming was as triumphant as if he’d been royalty. It might not have been marked by media attention, but all of Jane’s friends were there when Mike drove up.
Inside, Jane found the house decorated for the holidays and the nursery filled with all the supplies the baby could possibly need. Everything was perfect, or would have been if she hadn’t had this sick feeling that it was all about to end. She forced a smile when Donna came over with outstretched arms.
“Let me hold my godson,” she said.
“Don’t go getting any ideas,” Darryl warned, coming up behind her. “We’ve agreed to wait another year.”
“I know. That’s why I need to hold this one as much as Jane will let me,” Donna said.
Mike joined them. “Hand him over,” he said. “You’ll get your turn when I’m gone.”
Jane felt the salty sting of tears at the reminder that this whole homecoming was bittersweet. It marked a new beginning for her and the baby, but the clock was already ticking toward the end of her brief marriage to Mike. No doubt he’d want to set a divorce in motion before he left. What was the point of staying married when there was going to be an entire continent between them? The baby carried his father’s name and that was what this whole sham of a marriage had been about in the first place.
Suddenly she couldn’t bear it another minute. She ran from the room. As she let the kitchen door slam behind her, she was dimly aware of Mike’s muttered curse, then pounding footsteps chasing after her.
“Jane!”
He caught her heaving shoulders and turned her around. “Oh, baby, don’t cry. Dammit, I keep getting it all wrong.”
She looked up and caught the tormented expression on his face. “It’s not you. It’s us. One minute I can almost believe that all of this is real, that we really are a family, just the way I always dreamed we would be. The next I realize it’s make-believe.”
“It’s not make-believe,” he said. “It doesn’t have to be. I love you, Janie. And you love me. I know you do.”
“Yes,” she agreed, her voice ragged. “But that doesn’t change anything. You’re going to leave. You have to do it. I understand that.”
He stared deep into her eyes. “Do you? Do you really understand it?”
She nodded. “Yes, but I hate it, Mike. I really hate it.”
He gathered her close. “I know, baby. I know. It’s just like it was when your dad used to go away, isn’t it?”
Startled, she met his gaze. “You know that?”
“Well, of course. Remember, I was the one you used to run to every time he’d go. Not that you ever talked about it, but I could see the hurt in your eyes, the fear that he wouldn’t come back. I hated him for doing that to you.” He sighed. “And now I’m doing the same damned thing. Telling you I love you one minute, then saying goodbye and walking out the door.”
He tucked a finger
