He turned, the strain of the day sh

He turned, the strain of the day showing in the fine wrinkles along the corners of his eyes and mouth. He gestured for Adam to leave, watching until he did, and then he crossed to me. I wanted to touch him, to tell him everything was going to work out, but I wasn’t sure I had earned that right just yet. After our conversation in the garden last night, he disappeared and I didn’t see him again until I came downstairs for breakfast. And then he was quiet and tense, staring at his iPad and refusing to even acknowledge my presence. So, was it any wonder I was afraid to touch him now?
He pressed his hands to my belly, molding them to the firm roundness of it. His hands were warm through the thin material of my linen blouse. I almost expected the babies to respond to his touch, to offer a few strong kicks, but I hadn’t felt them move since I climbed out of bed this morning.
“How did your meeting go?” I asked.
He shook his head. “Don’t really want to talk about it.”
“Okay.”
His eyes moved up to mine. “You’re okay with that?”
I shrugged, and was about to say something along the lines of, “Why shouldn’t I be?” when he suddenly kissed me. I moved into him and deepened the kiss, loving the feel of his lips on mine. I could really get used to this, the feel of this man tugging me into his arms, kissing me like it was the last time he would ever kiss a woman. Everything that was going on, everything that was on my mind, it was nice to forget about it all for a few, hot moments.
Nicolas buried his fingers in my hair and tugged me close against him. It was a kiss like none other. There was something different about him, about the way he touched me. There was none of that sense of indifference that had set the tone of our interactions before. He might pretend it didn’t matter to him, but I could feel the change in his kiss, in the way he looked at me, in the way he cradled my body against his.
Nicolas was a man who’d never had the kind of love I got from my mom and Constance and all of their friends and extended family. He was never a part of something, of family. And just as he was on the verge of getting just a small piece of that particular pie, everything imploded. Was it any wonder he held me the way he did?
But if I gave him what he wanted, what would that mean for me?