His breath caught. He looked at her then, really looked, and found her watching him with an understanding that made his chest ache.
“There is no need to discuss my maudlin tendencies.” He tried to deflect. “I am sure you have better things to?—”
“There are other ways to deal with grief.” Sophia cut him off, her voice gentle but insistent. “Connecting with loved ones. With Oliver.” She paused. “He still needs you, Edward. I may be his connection to his mother, but you are his connection to his father.”
Each word found its mark. Edward swallowed hard.
“It is not as easy as you make it sound.”
“Then let me help you.” She finished wrapping his knuckles and looked up at him. “For Oliver’s sake.”
Edward stared at her. The offer hung between them, simple and terrifying. She was not asking him to change overnight. She was offering to walk beside him while he tried.
“What would that entail?” His voice came out rougher than he intended.
“Spending more time with him.” Sophia held his gaze. “And being open to talking about Leonard. Sharing memories. Keeping his father alive for him.”
Edward blinked. “You called him Leonard.”
“That was his name.”
“You were that close? Close enough to address my brother by his Christian name?”
Sophia nodded. “He was Jane’s beloved husband, so he became my friend as well. We dined together. Laughed together. I was there when Jane told him she was expecting Oliver.”
“I didn’t know.” The words came out heavy with regret. He had known she matched them, but he had never considered that she had been part of their lives. Part of Leonard’s happiness. “I knew you introduced them, but I did not realize…”
“You never asked.”
The truth of it settled over him like a weight. He had been so focused on keeping his distance, on protecting himself from feeling too much, that he had failed to see what was right in front of him.
Sophia stood before him, close enough to touch, her eyes filled with a patience he did not deserve. She was offering him a lifeline. All he had to do was take it.
The moment stretched between them. He could feel the warmth radiating from her body, could see the faint pulse at the base of her throat. The urge to close the distance, to pull her againsthim, to lose himself in her, rose up so strongly that he had to step back.
“We can try.” His voice was hoarse. “Tomorrow.”
Sophia nodded. Something flickered in her eyes. Disappointment, perhaps. Or understanding.
“Tomorrow, then.” She gathered the soiled bandages and moved toward the basin. “Goodnight, Edward.”
“Goodnight.”
He watched her rinse her hands and slip out of the kitchen, her dressing gown trailing behind her.
The door swung shut, and he was alone with the guttering candle and the ache in his chest.
CHAPTER 30
“You are holding the brush too tightly.”
Sophia watched from the doorway of the nursery as Edward sat at the small table, a paintbrush clutched in his fist like a weapon. Oliver perched beside him, his own brush moving with confident strokes across the paper.
“I am holding it the way one holds a brush.” Edward’s jaw tightened.
“You are holding it like you want to hurt it.” Oliver tilted his head. “Sophia says painting should be fun. You do not look like you are having fun.”
Edward glanced toward the doorway. His eyes met Sophia’s, and something flickered there. Uncertainty. A silent plea for help.
