She walked into the sitting room and dropped onto the love seat. “What I need is someone to tell me I’m not a complete screwup.”
Austin sat beside her, setting the bag he carried on the floor. “You had the door locked, Debbie. You did everything right, but sometimes, things still go wrong.”
The warmth of his body beside her simultaneously soothed her and made her hyper aware of his muscular build and masculine scent. “I should have known better than to leave the key hanging in plain sight. I just didn’t want to misplace it.”
“You had no idea Noah would climb up and get it, let alone figure out how to actually open the lock with it.”
“I did, actually.” Debbie frowned. “I found him up on the stove yesterday after I left him for two minutes to go to the bathroom. He’d turned two of the burners on.” Her heart rate skyrocketed like it did yesterday when she found Noah. She sucked in a deep breath and rubbed her forehead. “If I hadn’t spent the extra money on a stove with an induction cooktop, Noah would have burned himself.”
“Wow, he’s a busy little boy.” Austin nudged her shoulder with his. “One of the first lessons you have to learn as a parent is that no matter how badly you want to, you can’t protect your children from everything.”
“I know, but I’m so afraid he’s going to end up getting hurt on my watch, and Social Services will take him away from me.” She pressed a hand to her chest. She’d only had Noah a few short days, but he’d taken up residence in her heart.
Austin cleared his throat. “Why don’t you have any children of your own?”
Willing herself to act nonchalant, she put her hand on the armrest and drummed her nails. The muted sound they made against the fabric wasn’t nearly as satisfying as it was on a hard surface. Whenever Debbie felt uncomfortable, she directed her attention elsewhere. Her acrylic nails had become her diversion. She either studied them or tapped them. And if she was really stressed, she picked at them.
“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be nosy.” Austin scratched the stubble on his chin. “It’s just that you seem to really love kids. I’m surprised you don’t have a bunch of your own.”
“I do love kids, and I wish I had a houseful of them.”
“Be careful what you wish for because you have areallybig house.” Austin grinned, and her insides turned to jelly.
Balling her fist until her nails dug into her palm, Debbie decided to confide in him. “But I can’t have children.”
Austin’s brow furrowed. “I’m sorry to hear that. It must be very difficult for you, loving children the way you do.”
Debbie nodded then dropped her gaze to her hands. “It is. I’ve tried to make peace with it over the years. Every once in a while I think I’ve succeeded. Then out of the blue, the desire to be a mother hits me, and it’s so strong—” That old familiar, burning sensation rose up in her chest, sucking the air from her lungs.
It was always like this. The longing hit so hard and fast, Debbie thought she might suffocate.
Austin’s calloused hand covered hers. He gave a gentle squeeze.
Debbie sucked in a deep breath, feeling like she’d surfaced after being under water for an eternity.
“I can’t imagine how difficult that must be,” he said in a quiet voice. “The first time Cheyenne and I separated, Savannah was only three, and it drove me crazy to be away from my daughter. To not be there to kiss her booboos and tuck her into bed every night.”
The first time they separated?
Had Austin’s relationship with Cheyenne always been tumultuous? He sounded like he missed his daughter more than he missed his wife.
Debbie kept talking. Maybe if she shared her loss with him, he’d be willing to tell her more about what happened between him and Cheyenne. “I went through a pretty serious depression when I found out my chances of getting pregnant were slim.”
“I assume this was with your first husband?”
“Yes, Keith and I were high school sweethearts and got married shortly after graduation. We moved to Seattle so he could go to college. I worked two jobs to help put him through school. After he finally graduated, I wanted to start a family. We tried for a year with no success, so I went to a doctor. Several months and a whole bunch of tests later, I found out I had Endometriosis and Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome. If I was fortunate enough to get pregnant, I’d likely end up miscarrying.”
Debbie studied Austin’s strong hand that still covered hers for a moment before continuing. “We sunk ourselves in debt trying fertility treatments. Not only did infertility put a strain on our marriage, our financial problems became a constant source of contention between us. I reached the point where I was so desperate to be a mother that I suggested adoption even though we couldn’t afford it.” She gave a mirthless chuckle. “You’d have thought I suggested kidnapping a child by Keith’s reaction.” She dug her nails into the seam of the fabric on the armrest. “He didn’t want someone else’s child. He wanted his own. He was the last male in his family line. It was his responsibility to carry on the family genes.”
Debbie fell quiet as she relived the pain that filled her when Keith insisted they use a surrogate. That way the child would be biologically his. Having a son had come to mean more to him than she did.
Austin squeezed her hand.
“We ended up getting divorced shortly after our sixth anniversary.” Debbie let out a heavy sigh. “Keith remarried a year later and now has four daughters.”
“There comes a time when you have to call it quits,” Austin said quietly as though he hadn’t heard the comment about Keith’s daughters.
Before she could ask what made him and Cheyenne realize it was time to call it quits, he spoke again. “Is that why you married the older man? Because he wouldn’t expect you to have children?”
