by Lara Lacombe
The oven timer dinged, saving him from having to reply. He set Furbert’s food next to the water bowl, then retrieved the lasagna. Molly grabbed some plates and silverware, setting the table as he put the lasagna on the table and fetched them drinks. They moved well together in this kitchen ballet, which Max found surprising. He’d never achieved this kind of synchronicity with Beth, not even in the early days of their marriage when they’d still been madly in love. Joint ventures in the kitchen had always resulted in them bumping into each other, and not in a deliberate, flirtatious way.
Maybe that should have been my first clue, he mused as he sat across from Molly.
“Thanks for cooking,” she said.
“It’s the least I could do.” He picked up his fork and dug in. The sounds from across the room told him Furbert was enjoying his meal, as well. Molly didn’t really eat, though—she pushed the food around on her plate but didn’t seem to take a bite.
“Not hungry?” he asked.
She lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “Not especially.”
“What about Little Bit?”
The corners of her lips lifted. “Is that what you’re calling her?”
Max ducked his head, feeling his cheeks heat. In truth, the name had just popped out. He hadn’t meant to assign a nickname to the baby, but it felt right. “I guess so.”
“I like it. It’s sweet.”
He looked up to find her smiling at him. He smiled back, pleased to see her take a real bite of food.
They ate in companionable silence. It felt nice to just sit with her, to be in her presence and not feel like he needed to talk. He was used to schmoozing potential donors or eating with his team of administrators, meals that involved constant conversation with very little quiet time for reflection or thought. The need to be “on” all the time was exhausting, but it was a sacrifice he had to make for the good of K-9 Cadets. This simple dinner with Molly reminded him again of why he’d been drawn to her in the first place—there was a stillness about her that allowed him to relax. He never felt like he had to put on a show for her; the way she looked at him made him feel like he was enough, just the way he was.
Did he do the same for her? Did he bring her peace, allow her space and room to breathe? Hopefully so; surely she wouldn’t have asked him to stay today if she were uncomfortable around him. She’d always been happy to see him before. At every visit, he’d loved to see her pretty blue eyes light up when she’d first catch sight of him. Her obvious pleasure had made him feel ten feet tall, and he’d done his best to show her how happy he was to see her, as well.
There was no denying they were good together. But now that they’d added a baby to the equation, how would that alter their chemistry?
Babies changed relationships. Several of his friends from the service had come home to a wife and new baby, only to find their marriage irrevocably different, and not always for the better. He knew three men alone who had gotten divorced in the first few years after adding a baby to the family. Their reasoning? “She’s not the same person I married. Everything I do is wrong, and I’m tired of getting treated like a second child.” These were men who had dedicated their adult lives to serving their country; they didn’t make commitments lightly. For them to walk away like that meant things had to have been really bad.
As Max stole glimpses of Molly across the table, worry began to nibble in earnest at the edges of his thoughts. She seemed the same to him now, her sister’s death notwithstanding. But how would motherhood change her? How would fatherhood change him, for that matter? What if they turned into people who no longer recognized each other?
They couldn’t put a child in the middle of that kind of uncertainty. It wasn’t right. So where did that leave them?
“What’s wrong?”
He looked up to find Molly studying him, her brow furrowed. “I was just thinking,” he said.
“About the baby?”
Was she a mind reader? Or were his thoughts evident on his face? “That. And other things,” he confessed.
“We have a lot to talk about,” she replied.
He pushed his empty plate forward and leaned his elbows on the table. “Yes, we do.” He felt his muscles tense as he braced himself to start this conversation.
“But not today.” Her voice wavered slightly, betraying cracks in her composure.
“All right.” Waiting wasn’t going to make things any easier, but there was no need to address the elephant in the room now. Molly had dealt with enough today—he didn’t need to add to her stress. “Whenever you’re ready.”
She traced her fork through the sauce on her plate. Max noticed she hadn’t eaten much, but at least she’d taken a few bites.
“I don’t know why I’m so tired,” she said with a sigh. “I napped the afternoon away.”
“Maybe it’s for the best,” he told her. “If you’re asleep, you don’t have to think.” It was a strategy he’d used before, after the dissolution of his marriage. It had worked, too—for a little while.
Molly nodded. She pushed to her feet, reached for her plate.
Max jumped up. “Let me do that.” He took the plate from her and gathered his own. “Why don’t you go lie down?” She made a face at that suggestion, so he tried another one. “Maybe there’s something mindless on television?”
“Maybe.” She didn’t sound excited by the prospect. “On second thought, I think I’ll just go to bed.” She stopped next to him, looking up hesitantly.
He could tell she wanted to say something, but wasn’t sure how to go about it. “What is it?” He brushed a strand of hair away from her face, his fingertips caressing the shell of her ear. The contact sent sparks shooting up his arm, a potent reminder of their undeniable chemistry.
“I don’t want to be alone tonight.” The words spilled out of her, bouncing between them.
His heart kicked at the immediate implication of her confession, but he quickly quashed his baser impulses. She bit her lip and closed her eyes, clearly embarrassed.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I don’t mean—”
“It’s fine,” he soothed, running his hand down her arm. “I know what you’re asking. And the answer is yes. I’ll stay with you.”
“Thank you.” She offered him a grateful smile, her eyes shiny with tears.
“Don’t mention it. Now go on. I’ll get this cleaned up and join you in a few minutes.”
Max watched her walk away, conflicting emotions swirling in his chest. He wanted to be there for her, to be the man she needed him to be. But past experiences had taught him he wasn’t any good at relationships.
What, then, could he offer her?
And would it be enough?
* * *
Max moved carefully as he slid into bed a little later that evening. Molly appreciated his consideration, but he needn’t have worried about disturbing her. She was awake, and likely would be for some time yet.
She was lying on her back, staring at the ceiling. A night-light in the hall just outside her bedroom provided a small glimmer of illumination in the dark, enough for her to see the blades of the ceiling fan spinning overhead.
Wanting a different view, she turned her head to look at Max, hoping to catch him with his eyes closed so she could study his face. She’d done that a lot when they’d first started seeing each other; some of her favorite moments with him had occurred while he was sleeping. She’d loved to watch him dream, see the play of unguarded expressions that crossed his face while he slumbered. He was so composed and controlled while awake, which made seeing him like this even more special. Max had shared his body with her, but by sleeping next to her, he’d also shared his soul.
She felt a little jolt as her eyes met his—she hadn’t expected him to be watching her.
“Hi,” he whispered.
“Hi,” she whispered back.
He was lying on his side, his body several inches away from hers.
A sudden chill swept over her, making her shudder.
“Cold?”
“Yes,” she said. The temperature of the room hadn’t changed, but out of nowhere, her brain conjured up one of the pictures Deputy Sheriff Bloom had shown her earlier: the image of her sister’s hair spread out on the steel table of the morgue.
Molly bit her lip, trying hard not to cry as she imagined the feel of the cold metal against her back. Even though the objective part of her brain knew Sabrina was dead and could no longer feel anything, it hurt to think of her sister lying alone on that unforgiving surface.
“Let me help.” Max’s voice was soft and soothing. His hands gently guided her onto her side, facing away from him. Then he slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her close, until her back was snug against his chest.
Molly immediately felt warmer, though the image of Sabrina took longer to fade from her mind’s eye. She focused on the feel of Max against her body, of the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed, the warm weight of his palm splayed across her baby bump.
His scent surrounded her, bringing her comfort with every breath she took. God, how she’d missed him these past few months! He was more than just her lover—somewhere along the way he’d become her best friend, and she’d missed the simple joy of talking to him. Her anger over his absence and lack of communication had drawn battle lines between them, but it didn’t always have to be that way.
Molly was still trying to process Sabrina’s death, but the loss of her sister was already making her think twice about Max and the baby. Life was too short; should she really spend it feeling hurt about what couldn’t be, rather than grateful for what could?
Her hip was starting to ache; she shifted a bit to ease the pressure on the joint. The discomfort was a reminder of all the small ways pregnancy had made her feel like a stranger in her own body.
She moved again, bringing one knee up, then sliding her leg back down when that failed to provide relief. Maybe if she put a pillow between her knees...
“Molly?”
“Hmm?” she said absently.
“Can you, ah, stop wriggling?”
There was an odd note in Max’s voice that made her pause. It was then that she felt a new sensation against her lower back.
“Oh,” she said, understanding dawning at once.
“Sorry.” He sounded sheepish. “I didn’t mean to... well, it’s just that you started moving, and I can’t exactly control...” He released her and rolled onto his back. “Please don’t take it the wrong way. I’m not trying to put the moves on you or anything.”
The loss of his touch left her feeling bereft. Without stopping to think, Molly rolled over until she was facing him again. She placed her hand flat on his chest, her palm resting over his heart.
“It’s okay,” she said softly. “I don’t mind.”
She felt his heartbeat speed up. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying that I’m tired of thinking. I just want to get out of my head right now. With everything that’s happened recently, I can’t stand to be in my own thoughts anymore.”
She began to move her hand down his chest, feeling his muscles twitch in response to her touch. “I miss you,” she whispered. “If I’ve learned anything over the past couple of days, it’s that life is too short. I don’t want to have any regrets.”
Max placed his hand over hers, flattening it against the hard planes of his stomach. “I don’t want you to have any regrets, either,” he said, his voice husky. “Are you sure this is what you want? We still have so many unresolved issues between us. Won’t this only complicate things even more?”
“Only if we let it,” she said. “I’m not asking you for any promises. Can’t we just have this moment out of time?” Molly struggled to find the words to explain her desperate need for a connection. The abyss of her grief yawned wide; if Max didn’t pull her back from the edge, she feared she would topple over.
Max studied her face, his eyes dark shadows only a few inches from her own. “All right,” he said softly. His breath ghosted across her lips, a prelude of what was to come. “Tell me what you want.”
“You,” she said, her voice cracking on the word. “I just want you.”
It was all she’d wanted for the last year and a half, when she’d first felt herself start the downward slide into love. But she couldn’t tell him that. This moment was an escape for both of them. They could talk about emotions later, when they returned to the real world. For now, she simply wanted to lose herself with Max, to shut off her brain and let her body take control.
Max traced his fingertip along the curve of her cheek, sending a shiver down Molly’s spine. “All right,” he said again. “You have me. I’m all yours.”
If only that were true. She pushed the thought aside as Max drew her close, his hands on her skin awakening nerves that had gone dormant due to lack of use.
Soon, Molly was awash in sensation, clinging to Max and the promise of respite from her mind he provided. She didn’t know what tomorrow would bring, or how things would change between them. All she had was this stolen moment with him, a chance to recapture their magic in the midst of terrible circumstances.
It would have to be enough.
Chapter 11
“Everything looks good,” Dr. Allen told Molly at her morning appointment, giving her a reassuring pat on the knee. “Your baby’s right in the middle of the growth curve and shows no signs of being affected by your ordeal in the gondola.”
Molly sighed, feeling a flash of relief. It was the first good news she’d heard since word of Sabrina’s murder. And while she’d believed the OB from the hospital when he’d said the baby was fine, it was nice to have her regular doctor confirm it.
“I’m so glad,” she said. “How big is she?”
Dr. Allen glanced at her tablet, which displayed the results from Molly’s earlier ultrasound. “Looks like about fourteen ounces, give or take a few. She’s about as long as a banana right now.”
“That doesn’t seem very big.” It was the first time Max had spoken, aside from introducing himself to Dr. Allen.
“Don’t worry—she won’t stay little for long. She’s going to keep putting on weight, and toward the end of the pregnancy, she’ll grow by about half a pound a week.”
“I’m okay with small,” Molly said quickly.
Dr. Allen laughed. “That’s what all my patients say.” She stood, offered her hand to Molly and then Max. “I’ll see you next month. Call my office if you need anything before then.” She turned to Max. “It was nice to meet you.”
“Same here,” he said. “Thanks, Doctor.”
“My pleasure.”
The door snicked shut behind her, leaving Molly and Max alone once more. She glanced over at him—he was studying the clutch of ultrasound pictures they’d been given after the scan, a slight frown on his face.
“What’s wrong?”
“I hate to say it, but I think she might have my nose.” He flipped a photo around, tapping the profile image that showed the curves of the baby’s face.
Molly laughed. “It’s a little early to tell, but you might be right.”
“Poor girl,” he muttered, shaking his head.
“There are worse things in life than having your nose.” In fact, Molly thought his nose was rather cute, but she didn’t think he’d be happy to hear it.
He helped her slide off the table, and they walked through the office, headed for the parking lot.
It was a sunny day, the sky a pale, perfect blue. Molly glanced at the mountain as they walked toward her car. The avalanche had left a gash in the snowpack on the mountain, a scar that would eventually disappear when winter brought fresh powder to the area. The poles that supported the gondola lines looked like d
ark toothpicks from this distance, and she saw a few tiny brightly clad dots moving around—the workers who continued to assess the system, making repairs to get it operational again.
She shuddered, remembering all too well the terror of hanging precariously in the air, fearing that with each gust of wind they would plummet to the ground.
“Doing okay?” Max eyed her curiously over the roof of the car.
“Fine,” she said. “Just having a flashback to the other day.”
“That was pretty scary,” he agreed. “Even for me. And I’ve voluntarily jumped out of perfectly good airplanes before.”
Molly slid into the passenger seat as Max got behind the wheel. “I had no idea you were scared,” she said. “You seemed so calm the whole time, like it was an inconvenience to your day, but nothing to be afraid of.”
“I was putting on a brave face for you,” he admitted. His cheeks turned pink as he ducked his head. “I knew you were scared, and I didn’t want to make it worse. I figured if I acted like everything was okay, it would help you feel better.”
His confession gave her a warm fuzzy feeling inside. “It did,” she told him. She wanted to reach over and take his hand, but wasn’t sure how he’d respond.
* * *
Her mind flashed back to last night, and Max’s tenderness as they’d made love. He’d seemed to understand her need for touch, her desire for reassurance they were still alive. She’d told him she didn’t want anything from him, and that had been the truth. But against her best intentions, she’d given him another piece of her heart.
She was glad he’d come to her doctor’s appointment, as well. His interest in the baby made her feel good, and she took it as a positive sign for their future. In fact, if the time they’d spent together lately was any indication, they wouldn’t have too much trouble adjusting to living together if things worked out between them.
“When are your parents getting into town?”
The question cast a pall over her thoughts. “They should be here by Friday,” she said. They’d been in eastern Canada when she’d called, so it was going to take several days for them to make the drive home. In the meantime, Mason had actually volunteered to make the funeral arrangements, a task Molly appreciated him claiming.