Page 83 of Worth Risking It

Filling my lungs with air, I bobbed my head and stood. “Yeah, yeah, I could eat.”

She flashed a bright smile and scampered inside, going to the kitchen to set our plates. I went to the table and plopped down, folding my arms, my leg bouncing beneath.

“You okay?” she asked, setting a plate in front of me.

“Hm?”

“You’ve been getting more and more distant since you showed up.”

I huffed and picked up the fork. “Yeah, sorry about that. I know you expected good company when I came here, but I screwed that up.”

“No,” she giggled, sitting across from me. “I know how hard this time is for you. I know how much you love her.”

Grumbling, I cut off a piece of food and shoveled it in my mouth.

“I didn’t expect anything. It’s just nice to hear someone else around once in a while, you know? Footsteps, your snoring, moving around. I’m not alone, and it’s been comforting.”

Tapping my fork to the plate, I shook my head. “You’re handling this a lot better than I thought you would. I’m impressed.”

She rolled a shoulder and took a bite. “I guess the quietness isn’t all too bad. Been doing a lot of self-reflection.”

“Yeah? About what?”

“About the kind of person I would be if I had a second chance. I would be a better mother, that’s for sure.”

Snorting, I took another bite and spoke around my food. “I don’t really see how that is possible. You’re a fantastic mom.”

“Hm. When kids are involved, there’s always room for improvement.”

I tensed, poking at the meat. “Is being a parent hard?”

Her gaze flitted to mine across the table. “Wyatt, are you afraid of being a dad?”

I shuddered and coughed, my skin breaking out in goosebumps. “Terrified.”

Laughing, she stood and went to the kitchen to get a pitcher of tea and two glasses. Setting them on the table, she sat back down and poured us something to drink.

“When my firstborn was put into my arms after I gave birth.” She sighed and shook. “Man, I just knew I was going to screw everything up. Looking down into that pudgy little face, so tiny and helpless, I almost threw up.”

Surprised, I paused with the glass in front of my mouth, eyeing her.

She was blinking rapidly, splaying her fingers out, breathing faster. “All of a sudden, I realized I had to be responsible!” Her fingers pressed to her chest, her lids rounded when she looked at me. “This creature couldn’t talk, walk, communicate. I had to figure out what cries meant pain, hunger, anger, sleep, discomfort.

“Then, I had to teach that baby how to learn to talk, walk, and communicate. If I held too tightly, I could break bones. What if I tripped while holding her? What if I fed her too much, or not enough? What if, what if, what if?”

I finished taking my sip and set the glass down, watching her smile ruefully and poke at her food.

“It’s a learning curve, Wyatt. Believe it or not, your instincts will click in, and you’ll be able to read your son…”

The fork clattered to the plate, her elbow propping on the table to cover her mouth. Turning her profile to me, her brows arched, her lids closed, and her throat constricted.

I looked away, my stomach knotting at the heartache she was going through. I couldn’t even begin to imagine the hell, fear, and sorrow she felt at any given moment.

Coughing and composing herself, she sniffled and rubbed at her eyes, retrieving her fork. “You don’t have anything to worry about, I assure you. You’re going to be a great dad.”

“How do you know?”

Her chin quivering, she gazed at me through tear-filled eyes. “Because you’re willing to die for him.”