Page 50 of Because of Them

Ihalf expected Michael to leave once we had finished our paintings and I was in the midst of wrestling Maisie into bed. Thought he would take the opportunity to slide away and spend time doing whatever it is young adults do on Saturday nights.

But he stayed. No, he did more than stay. He helped. He convinced Maisie to brush her teeth, and told her about the time he wet the bed on school camp when she complained that she shouldn’t have to use the toilet before bedeverynight. He brushed her hair for her and helped her straighten all the teddies in her bed. And he gave her an affectionate, almost fatherly, hug goodnight.

While I tucked her in and spun her dream catcher five times—and promised to spin it again before I went to bed—he cleared the dining table. He washed the paintbrushes and laid them flaton a towel to dry. He packed all the tubes of paint into their drawers in the sunroom. He even unpacked last night’s dishes from the dishwasher, reloading it with everything that had accumulated through the day.

I walk out of Maisie’s room with a yawn, pulling her door shut behind me and shuffling my feet back to the kitchen. Looking up from the dishwasher, Michael rakes his gaze over my swollen, exhausted body. His Adam’s Apple bobs and his eyes darken as he beckons for me to come closer.

As though he can’t wait for my waddling steps, he takes two long strides to reach me, wrapping me in his firm arms until I relax some of my weight into him.

“Thank you.” I speak the words to his chest, not wanting to leave his warm, comforting embrace.

He pulls back, shaking his head. A grumble forms low in his chest.

“This was nothing. You deserved to do something special, but I know you didn’t want to go out, I thought maybe—”

I stretch a hand in between us to put my finger over his lips. “It was perfect, Michael … this … everything.”

I want to tell him that I love it all. I love how he thought about me and what I like and what I wanted when he came up with the plan for my birthday. I love how caring and protective he has become. I love how he thinks of me first and always acts with my best interests at heart. I love how he keeps his hand on my lower back when we are walking and how he wraps me up and holds me when I’m tired. I love how when he is around, I feel calm and safe and nourished. I love … him.

Shit.

Is that too much? Too soon? Is it hormones?

The words dangle on my lips, wishing to be out in the open. But Michael speaks before I have the courage to say them.

“Audrey, I have to tell you something.”

Also shit.

My stomach drops and twists into an anxious ball of knots. I step back, wrapping my arms around my waist to try to hold the sensation in. I was about to tell him I love him. I was about to open my heart for him and now I’m terrified he’s about to flee. I look down at my feet, only I can’t see them past my ever-growing baby bump. I look at the vase of beautiful flowers. I look at the clean bench and the handmade card from Maisie stuck on the fridge.

I look anywhere but at Michael, waiting for the blow. Because of course it was just hormones and of course I’m reading into this more than I should have. Michael doesn’t want what I have to offer, he’s just here because heshouldbe. And because it’s fun. Only I’m starting to feel like it’s more, and we are fast approaching the moment where the fun will be forced to end. My heart thumps so furiously I bet he can see my pulse in my temples. I pull my cardigan tighter.

“It’s okay,” comes out as a whisper as I nod to my stomach.

I get it, I want to say. I know.

But Michael laughs, a low chuckle that forms deeper in his chest than usual. He runs a thumb over the crease between my brows and wraps my face in his hands. Pressing my chin with his thumbs, he tilts my head up until I’m forced to look at him. His eyes are a deep chocolate brown, far darker than the amber colour the sun brings out, but they overflow with tears. He blinks the salty liquid away and I wipe his cheek with the sleeve of my cardigan.

“You went somewhere bad, hey?”

I nod, trying to hold back my own tears. My heart flips and races and stops and starts, and my hands shake.

“First, you need to know that this is not because of them, okay?” He places a hand on my stomach and the babies jumparound underneath his touch. His face lights up at the feeling. “I love them. Already and always.”

My silent tears overflow, hope blooming from the depths of my soul. A tiny seed of blackened doubt still floats somewhere in my gut, but it doesn’t belong, so I will it away.

Michael wipes my cheeks and leans forward so our foreheads rest together. His shaky breaths become my own.

“Audrey, I don’t just love them. This feeling started long before they came to throw us back together and even before I knew about them, I couldn’t shake it off. And I know I messed up, again and again and again. I know I’m not the guy you would have chosen to be the father of your surprise babies, and I know you deserve so much more than some kid who can’t seem to pull his life together, but I can’t get you out of my heart. You’re in my mind, my soul. You’re everywhere. I love you.”

He seals his final words back with a kiss. The hope that had bloomed through me erupts into the room, surrounding us in a cloud of overwhelming joy. My shoulders relax and I wrap my arms around Michael’s neck to pull him somehow closer.

Our kiss is a tangle of lips and tongues and love. It’s slow and tender and sensual and like nothing I’ve ever known or felt. We get lost in it, together.

Breaking the kiss despite Michael’s whimpering protest, I rise on my tiptoes to kiss the soft spot behind his ear.

“I love you, too.”

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