He had to bite back a smile at the fierceness of her expression.
"You're biased." Lifting a hand, he touched her cheek gently.
"Of course, I am. You're my baby."
"She has a right to be scared. This is uncharted territory, for both of us, but more so for her." He closed his fingers around her wrists and held on.
"She grew up in a cold environment with a mother who believes it's a sin to go anywhere except church."
"We go to church. We're very religious people, but not fanatics. We believe in the Lord, but that woman takes it too far." She sighed, her anger evaporating. "Invite her to dinner."
"No." Removing her hands from his face, he rose and went to sit on the windowsill. The glass was icy cold, the frosting on the window distorting the view.
"She's not ready. And neither am I."
"Darling..."
"No, mother." He turned back to her. "I have to handle her with kid gloves right now." He shrugged. "I'm in love with her."
He smiled slightly. "For the first time in my life, I'm in love, really in love, heart and soul. I'm scared of losing her. Yes, I'm excited about the pregnancy, but losing her is not an option." He gazed at her. "Do you understand what I'm saying?"
She nodded. "I'll be praying for her. And for you too." She rose and crossed over to him. "And whenever you think she's ready,bring her by. She will need the support and we're a family who's always there for each other."
"I know." He hugged her. "And I'm grateful for it."
"Coming?"
"In a minute. I just need to be alone for a little bit."
She touched his cheek gently. "I love you."
"Don't I know it." He smiled at her.
She left him alone and closed the door behind her. Standing there for a few seconds, she tried her best to rearrange her thoughts. Her youngest was hurting, which means she was as well. And could not stop the feeling of resentment going through her.
It should be so simple, she mused, shaking her head as she took the stairs. An elevator had been installed a few years ago, but she liked to get in her steps whenever she could.
She was sixty-five years old and had no intention of getting old. She looked ten years younger and that was as a result of good Irish genes and ruthless discipline of her body.
She and her three daughters would hit the home gym every morning. She was proud to say that she was keeping up with the strenuous and often brutal workouts.
Sweeping her hands over her hips, she stepped into the study where she knew her husband would be holed up with his charts.
"How's he?" He looked up from the documents he was studying as soon as she stepped into the room.
"Sad." She came over to sit on his lap, a loving smile on her lips. He had been the first man for her and the only. One look at him and she never looked at another.
Even after more than forty years of marriage, he still managed to have her heart doing flip-flops. "Retrospective. Scared." She brushed back the sable-brown hair threaded through with gray. "And I want to wrap him up in my arms and soothe away the pain. He's in love with her."
His gray eyes studied her beloved and familiar face. It amazed him that the older she gets, the more beautiful. Her alabasterskin was still mostly unlined, and she never seemed to slow down. He loved her more than his own life.
She had given him four sons. His appreciation of her was second only to his love.
"She's not all bad. She's beautiful."
She scoffed at that. "Typical male. Sees only the outward appearance, never the inside."
He grinned, completely unoffended. "That's the first thing I saw when I looked at you. Your beauty. All that shining blonde hair and your peaches-and-cream complexion. I was in instant lust."
