And now...a good father.
Mary Ellen's breathing had turned even, and she no longer made the little sucking noise as she pulled cold liquid from the cloth. He couldn't tell for sure if she was asleep though.
He caught Naomi's attention and motioned to their daughter.
Her gaze softened, then she gave a small nod. She smiled as she whispered, "Well done."
Warmth spread through him, both from her words and from the rightness of it all. At last, he'd been here when they needed him. For both of them.
He stayed in that place a few more minutes,letting the warmth of Mary Ellen’s breath against his neck settle fully inside him. He couldn't sit here all night though. Or rather, he couldn't keep Naomi sitting here all night.
At last, he looked to her with raised brows and murmured, "Should I carry her to the crib?"
With a small nod, she stood.
He eased to the edge of the chair and tried to stand using only his leg muscles. He didn't quite succeed, but he was able to hold in his grunt. These ribs couldn't heal soon enough.
He stepped into the bed chamber and positioned his daughter in the crib. He knew the routine, adjusting the quilt just so. The snow had melted in the cloth, so he carried it out with him.
Naomi stood near the doorway, closer than he’d expected. She held out her hand. “I’ll take that.”
As he handed her the wet fabric, she didn’t quite meet his eyes.
Tension hovered in the air. She must be just as aware of their aloneness as he was.
She moved toward the fire and hung the cloth on a nail protruding from the mantle. When she turned back to him, her manner seemed hesitant. Moonlight spilled through the window, casting a delicate glow across her features, accentuating the shadows under her eyes. Silence enveloped them, save for the soft crackle of the fire and the distant howl of the wind outside.
She still didn't look at him. “Thank you.” Her voice came out quiet, almost wistful.
"Of course." The words were nothing. Nothing compared to what he wanted to say. Longing rose up inside him, longing he’d thought locked tightly away. Did she want what they'd had as much as he did? They could forget the past. The broken promises. They could put it all behind them.
Start fresh.
They were both far more seasoned now. Wiser. For his part, he'd seen enough of other women to know Naomi was the only one he could ever love.
“I wanted…” His voice came out rough, and he cleared his throat. "I want to be here for you. For both of you."
If he took a step forward, met her in front of that fire, would she let him touch her? He would be chaste this time. He wouldn't ruin this last hope by letting desire take over.
There must be something in her that wanted what once thrived between them. If her love had been anywhere near as strong as his, it couldn't be snuffed out. Not fully.
For a moment, neither of them spoke. Finally, she looked up at him, and the light in her eyes drew him. His feet moved forward before he gave them permission. He stepped around the rocking chair to meet her in front of the hearth, stopping within arm's reach.
But he didn't touch her.
His breathing had become harder, and he couldn’t blame it on his ribs. Her eyes were so hard to read. Did she want to test what still lay between them?
Or did she really want Jonah Coulter? If that was her choice. If she loved andwantedto marry the man...
If she wasn't just settling...
Then Eric would step aside.
Now his lungs could barely lift with the weight on his chest. He had to know.
This was the point where he would either step in or back away. And Naomi had to make the choice.
His throat tightened. "Naomi." His voice came out weak, so he tried to add strength. "I loved you then. I still do. I always will. But if Jonah Coulter is your choice, I'll respect it. I won't get in your way or make things harder for you. Just… tell me now."
