“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be,” I replied.
After one long minute of worrying he’d force me out,Beckham twisted in my hold until his chest was to me and wrapped his arms tightly around my shoulders.
I melted into him as he hunched his back and buried his face in my hair. A sob wracked his body, taking me by surprise and ripping my world in two.
My hand moved on instinct, smoothing over his hair as his tears soaked the shoulder of my shirt. His sobs could create an ocean in this room and I’d still hold onto him. If Beckham was hurting, there wasn’t a chance in hell I’d ever let go.
Both our knees buckled and we lowered to the floor. My legs fit perfectly over his to where I was straddling him, and he nuzzled his face deeper into the crook of my neck. Hot tears ran down my chest, staining my skin with his pain.
I wanted so badly for him to talk to me. To tell me what was hurting him so I could fix it. But that wasn’t fair of me to ask when I wasn’t being completely transparent with him.
So for now, I’d hold him. Wipe the tears from his cheeks and fix his hair.
Once his body stopped jerking from the sobs and his sniffles became further apart, I leaned back slightly, setting my hands on his cheeks and lifting his head.
His bloodshot eyes and glistening cheeks had me fighting back my own tears.
“Never go alone again,” he pleaded in a broken whisper.
“I won’t,” I promised.
I brushed his cheek with my thumb, wishing like hell I could read his mind.
“I’ll drive you.”
I nodded. “To every single one.”
His eyes fell to my lips, and they parted on their own accord. His focus shifted between my mouth and my eyes like he couldn’t decide if he wanted to stare at me forever or close the distance.
Both options scared me, but not because I didn’t want Beckham. I couldn’t put this baby on him and force him to be a dad to some other man’s child.
I wanted him to talk about his feelings and tell me what was going on, but I also didn’t want to dig him a deeper hole than he already seemed to be disappearing into, so I asked the first thing that popped into my mind to attempt to brighten his mood.
“Do you want to see the sonogram?”
His brows pinched together before he realized what I was asking, then he nodded. “Of course.”
I lifted slightly, tugging the photo from the back pocket of my maternity jeans. I flipped it around so he could see, and when his attention shifted to it, I nearly passed out.
Weight had never been so visibly lifted from a man’s shoulders. Eyes had never lit up as brightly as the sun rising in the morning. Hearts had never beat as vividly as mine did now.
Showing him this photo of my son might have been a massive mistake. It didn’t distract us from our proximity, not in the least. All it did was make me want to tuck thislittle paper into his wallet and ride him until the sun came up and the cows started mooing.
New tears welled in his eyes and he quickly wiped them away with the back of his hand before they could drop. His throat bobbed over and over before he met my melting gaze. I feared I might turn into a puddle, right here and now, and all I had to blame was the past and these damn pregnancy hormones.
“This is your son,” he stated, pure awe in his voice.
I nodded.
Then he simply took my breath away when he lifted his free hand and glanced at my belly. “Is it okay if I…?”
I nodded again, never feeling the phraseloss of wordsmore than I did right now.
His large, callused palm met the fabric of my shirt and the warmth of him seeped right through it, penetrating my stretched skin and working its way to my heart. My pulse wasn’t racing. It wasn’t slow, either. On Beckham’s lap, with the feel of him touching me, I was calm. Content.
Falling.
His hand moved slowly, tracing my small bump like it was the most precious work of art he’d ever seen. With his soft touch combined with that pure look of adoration, I feared I’d need to put a lock and key over the organ in my chest.
