Page 63 of The Hermit on the Hill

He'd painted the walls light blue and the big windows lit the room with a cheery light. My chest tightened and tears sprang to my eyes. Tears of want and sadness and frustration.

I walked to the windows to try and get a hold of myself. I pulled in three deep breaths, and when I turned to Sam, I was smiling. "It's beautiful."

Sam's face fell. "What's wrong? You don't like the wall color? I can change everything. That's why I didn't put pictures on the walls."

I smiled wider. "It's great, Sam. Really." I walked over and ran a hand over the smooth wood of the crib. "Is this my crib?"

He was suddenly next to me, his hand on my cheek, his gaze exploring mine. "Stop pretending for me, baby. I told you, I don't need it."

Letting my smile fall felt like slipping off a too-tight dress or washing off my make-up after a long day. "Is this my crib?"

"Yes. Is there something wrong with it? Have you changed your mind about it?"

"You've set this all up like you've already decided I'm going to stay here. You're staring at the finish line, and I haven't gotten off the starting block yet."

His wrinkled brow made him look somehow younger and more vulnerable. "I have no idea what that means, but I promise you I'm not assuming anything. If you decide not to stay, I'll get my own crib, just like this one. You can take everything you brought with you, but I want you to stay."

"Why?" My voice trembled on the word. "Because you want our son to live with you?"

"Of course. But I want you to live here with me, too. If I didn't want that, I'd buy you an apartment in town, Jenna. I don't live with anyone I don't consider family."

"And I'm family?"

"Of course."

"Because I'm carrying your son?"

"Because I care about you," he said. "I want you here with me."

I pulled away from him. I pressed a hand to my chest and tried to figure out why his words had made me feel so dizzy and sick. "Is that enough? This is all happening so fast, Sam. We don't have to figure this out right now. And I don't have to live here with you for us to do that."

Sam stepped closer and took my hand in his. "But I want you to live here with me."

"Or do you just want a family so badly, you've convinced yourself we can make a relationship out of really great sex?"

Sam paled. "Is that all you think we have?"

"You don't even know me."

"I know you have a sweet tooth. That's why I picked up a cinnamon bun from Tabitha's bakery while we were in town. It's in my office," he added when I shook my head and opened my mouth to argue. "I know you're a morning person. That you like to be up and doing your research before anyone else is awake to bother you." He took a step toward me. "I know when you love someone, you love them with your whole heart and would do anything for them, even if it's allowing yourself to be covered in glitter and ice cream. I know you rub your feet together when you get sleepy and you have such a big heart that you smile all the time, so no one will ever worry about you or have a moment's disquiet on your account."

Somehow, during that speech, he'd gotten close enough to cup my face in his hands.

"And I know there's no one else I'd rather be having a son with."

No one had ever said so many nice things to me. No one had ever made me feel so seen. I wanted to lean into him and his pretty words.

"I don't know you," I whispered instead.

He didn't pull away. "Tell me what you want to know, baby."

"I didn't know about the classic car. I don't know what kind of friendship you have with Marcus. What do you two talk about all the time, and why do you always seem so busy?"

He pressed a kiss to my forehead. "Now, tell me what you do know."

I stared. "You aren't going to answer my questions?"

"Sure, I am." A hint of vulnerability crept onto his face. "I just want to know I'm not alone in this. You must know at least a few things about me by now."

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