I held up a hand. “Wait. And after today, after being there with Ruby like she was with me, it hit me that childbirthisunpredictable and wild. All the preparation and planning in the world would not have allowed me to control any of it. And Vincent is here now. And I’m doing it. Being a mom.”
He kissed my shoulder tenderly. “You’re not just doing it. You’re crushing it.”
My chest pinched. “Thank you. And you could have made coparenting difficult. You could have made it painful. But you’ve been patient and kind and you keep showing up.”
“It’s nothing.”
“No it’s not nothing. Quite the opposite.” I sat up, heat building behind my eyes. “I treated you terribly. But suddenly, it’s like the postpartum hormonal haze has lifted and I can see so clearly how terrible I’ve been. I can think again.”
He searched my face, his own expression full of questions.
“It was so shocking,” I said. “And the pressure of taking care of a newborn was intense. I was angry at you. Not for any specific reason, but because you were a man.”
Head cocked, he frowned. “Sorry?”
“I’ve been let down many times. And while I’ve survived time and again, my protective instincts kicked in and I built walls. I assumed you’d let Vincent down. But now that I know you, understand the man you are, I realize that will never happen.”
For the space of a couple of heartbeats, he was silent, like he was letting my words sink in.
When he spoke, his voice was full of emotion. “I’m sorry you’ve been hurt and let down so many times in your life,” he said. “If you ever want to talk about it, I’m always willing to listen.”
My heart swelled. This man always knew exactly the right thing to say.
“And I’mhere. In any capacity you want me.”
The words were an opening, a soft launch of a complex conversation I wasn’t remotely ready for. So I pivoted to more apologies.
“I was so shitty to you for so long. And you’re not just one of the good ones.” I licked my lips and dug deep for the courage to say this next part. “I think you might be the best one.”
The way the slow smile lit up his face made my stomach flip. He was beautiful.
With a grunt, he wrapped me in a bear hug. He covered my neck and shoulders with kisses, his stubble tickling my sensitive flesh and pulling ridiculous giggles from me.
It was strange, how light I felt. Usually after sex, I was hit with a heavy dose of anxiety and embarrassment. Followed by the desire to cover up and get out. Never had I craved giggles and cuddles and kisses.
Yet here I was. Was this what I’d been missing all along?
My cheeks hurt from smiling, and Jasper’s laugh was caught in his throat, a low, husky sound I’d never tire of.
As the afternoon light filtered through the curtains in lazy stipes, I closed my eyes and enjoyed the strong warmth of his body and the feel of his lips against my skin.
For a brief moment, life was simple. Nothing but skin and warmth and affection. No ghosts. No guilt. Just Jasper.
The moment was spoiled, though, when my brain caught up.
We hadn’t used protection. We’d fallen into bed without talking. We had Vincent to worry about.
What if I’d made a terrible mistake?
“You look stressed all of a sudden,” Jasper said, nuzzling my neck. “Start talking.”
He pulled back, the corners of his mouth softening into understanding, or worse, maybe. Because the look was almost one of hope.
I couldn’t promise him anything. Not when I was still piecing myself back together and learning how to be a mother. Not when a whole little person depended on me to make good choices. Responsible choices.
“We didn’t use protection,” I said.
“I thought you couldn’t get pregnant while breastfeeding.” He kissed one breast, then the other, unconcerned.
