Love At Last

by Claudia Connor

  “Not sure what this is going to mean for the night, given it’s only six, but they’ve hit a wall.”

  “They were good for not having a nap all day.”

  “Yeah. Give me a second to lay them down, and I’ll show you around.”

  Deacon carried the girls upstairs, leaving Clare in the family room. She sat the baby carriers on the couch and turned in a circle. Fireplace bumpers lined the edges of the raised hearth to protect little heads. A professional photo of the girls sat framed on the mantle. A newborn picture with the twins nestled together in one tiny purple crocheted blanket. They were sleeping, their tiny arms folded and bands with big flowers around their heads. She should give him a framed picture of the boys. Maybe for Christmas.

  Would they be exchanging Christmas presents? What would they do for Christmas? She was way too tired to think about that right now.

  Turning, she went for the used bottles in the diaper bag and took them to the kitchen, where she found more signs of Deacon’s life with his girls. Pictures on the fridge. A preschool snack schedule taped on the freezer side. Rinsing the bottles, she looked out the window over the sink. A big backyard where Deacon played with his children. She had a flash of the two of them playing with all four children, the boys running after their sisters.

  Damn it. She wasn’t doing this again. Daydreaming a life and a future.

  Deacon was back in minutes. He took the wet bottles from her and got out a kitchen towel.

  “I like your house.”

  “It’s bigger than I need,” he said. “But I couldn’t pass up the backyard.”

  It was a kid’s dream, what she could see of it in the waning light. A swing set stood in the middle of the yard complete with slide and monkey bars. Another swing, a wide wooden plank, hung from a giant oak. “It’s a really great yard.”

  “Yeah. I couldn’t imagine the girls ever playing out there, couldn’t see them on a swing, because they were so small. They couldn’t even hold their heads up. But my parents convinced me it would go by fast and I’d be glad we had it. That kids needed a house and a yard they could run in.”

  Something she didn’t have for the boys. “Your parents are great.”

  “They help a lot. They like you. And the girls absolutely love you. I think they’d throw me over for you in a heartbeat.”

  “That’s not true. And I bet they like everyone. They’re very loving.”

  “You’d be surprised. There was this woman at the grocery doing the whole baby talk, aren’t you two adorable, thing. Margo told her to back off.”

  Clare laughed. “Well, I’m glad I rate higher than that.” She moved back to the family room and the babies. “They haven’t liked other women you’ve dated?” She winced, her brain catching up to her mouth. “Sorry. That just slipped out. I’m not fishing.”

  “You can fish if you want,” he said with an easy smile. “I haven’t dated. Not since they were born. That dinner with you after you tangled yourself around my button was the first dinner I’ve had with a woman in over three years.”

  “I tangled, huh?” He was standing so close, she could smell him. She’d been a fool to think she could ignore that pull and attraction she’d felt since the first.

  He’d touched her at his parents’. A light hand on her back, his arm around her when they sat on the couch. Now she wanted to touch him. Wanted to kiss him. Parker had other ideas.

  She closed her eyes and sighed. “Someone’s hungry.”

  Deacon wrapped his arms around her and kissed the top of her head. “You must be exhausted.”

  She was, but standing in Deacon’s arms, she felt jittery and wired.

  “Come on. I’ll show you the rest of the house, and you can get settled.”

  She freed Parker and Deacon brought Patrick, still sleeping away in his car seat. He led her up the stairs, and her eyes roamed over the girls’ baby pictures on the wall.

  “Bathroom is through here,” Deacon said when they reached the hallway. “And also connected to the guest room. And here’s the guest room. I got the cribs out. Washed all the girls’ bedding.”

  The room was decorated in blues and grays. A white quilt covered a black iron bed, and two white cribs sat end to end against the far wall.

  “If you think you’d sleep better in a separate room, there’s another downstairs.”

  “No. This is fine.”

  Deacon crossed the room and ran his hand along the crib railing. She wondered if he was remembering the girls being small. Or maybe he was thinking of the boys sleeping here. Staying here.

  “I also have the cradle, two cradles, actually. They’re downstairs.”

  “Thanks for getting them out. All of this. You went to a lot of trouble.”

  “Nah. Not too much.”

  She followed him out. “This is my room,” he said, pointing through an open doorway on the right. “The master is actually that other room downstairs, but I sleep up here for now. It seemed the thing to do when they were infants, and now we’re all kind of used to it. I’ll move eventually.”

  A king-size bed covered with a dark-blue comforter dominated the room. A bedside table and dark dresser added to it. Very manly, she thought, and it suited him. “Nice doll.” She pointed to a giant rag doll on the floor.

  He cringed and picked it up. “I try to draw boundaries, but they always get past me.”

  He was adorable, standing there, holding the doll, looking as nervous as she felt. Even so she yawned.

  “You’re tired,” Deacon said. “And they’re hungry.” Parker was starting his rooting thing, making her breasts tingle. Patrick was squirming in his seat. “You want me to fix bottles?”

  They’d already had bottles earlier, and her breasts were heavy and full. “I think I’ll try to nurse both of them.”

  “Okay. I’ll get the diaper bags and your suitcase.”

  “Thank you.” By the time she got situated on the bed in the guest room and had both boys latched on, she couldn’t even keep her eyes open. She leaned her head back and dozed.

  “Hey.”

  Clare jerked awake to find Deacon sitting on the side of the bed.

  He brushed a warm hand over her cheek. “I was going to suggest a movie, but I think you’re done for.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry. Is he done?”

  She nodded, and he took Patrick, and she quickly covered herself with her free hand.

  “These pajamas okay?” He pulled a gray sleeper out of the diaper bag.

  “Sure.”

  “I thought we could go out to dinner tomorrow night. I’ve cleared it with my parents to watch the kids.”

  “All the kids?” Clare asked, thinking he’d lost his mind.

  “Yes. It’ll be the two of them. They’re used to handling the girls.”

  “Oh.” She pressed her cheek to Parker’s head where he slept on her chest. “I don’t know. I’ve never left them before.”

  “We’ll go somewhere really close. Close enough that if they call, we can be home in five minutes.” He straightened with the baby on his shoulder, softly patting his back. “I’m asking you on a date, just to be clear. The two of us, eating out. Adults only.”

  He smiled in that way that never failed to make her stomach flutter, and she wanted that time with him. “Okay. I’d like that.”

  * * *

  THE NEXT EVENING, DEACON knocked lightly on the bathroom door then opened it slowly before Clare answered. He wanted desperately to get back to the level of intimacy they’d had before. “Hey. Okay to come in?”

  “Sure.”

  Clare stood in front of the bathroom mirror in the robe he’d hung on the back of the door for her. He stared, then drew closer, nearly mad with the urge to touch her. He held her gaze in the reflection of the mirror. “I shouldn’t ask if you have anything on under that.”

  She pressed her lips together and broke eye contact. “No. You shouldn’t.”

  He stood, leaning agai
nst the doorway, watched her swipe something onto each eyelid. It was all so normal. So natural. Could she see herself here as clearly as he could? The two of them, working in tandem to feed and care for their brood. The two of them in bed at night when it was finally, blessedly quiet, making love, wrapped in each other’s arms until the sun came up and they started all over again.

  They’d spent the morning doing the mundane. Breakfast, bathing babies, and dressing everyone. Getting out toys, putting them away. Though none of it felt mundane with Clare. After lunch, they’d gone to a park then stopped by his office. She’d met Jax, and he’d proudly shown off his sons. And Clare.

  “Did the girls eat dinner?” she asked.

  “My parents are downstairs, bribing them with one chocolate chip for every green bean.”

  She smiled. “Is it working?”

  “Margo has five lined up in front of her plate so far. Maci’s holding out, hoping for a better deal.”

  “Smart girl,” Clare said.

  “Are the boys asleep?”

  “Not yet. I just put them down. They’re fed and dry, but I thought I’d top them off a little, make sure they’re good and asleep before we leave.”

  He’d planned to leave that to his mom, but he knew Clare would feel better about things if they were asleep. “Okay. I’ll be downstairs.”

  Thirty minutes later, they still hadn’t left, and he was getting antsy. He walked back upstairs and found Clare rocking both boys, singing softly. She’d been beautiful earlier in just a robe, and she was gorgeous now in jeans and a red sweater and boots, holding their babies.

  “Sorry,” she whispered to him with an apologetic smile. “I’ve never left them before.”

  “I know.” He crossed the room and, standing beside her in the quiet, stroked a hand over her hair. She was the loving, fierce mama bear his girls never had. And she was the woman he loved with everything in him.

  “I do want to go,” she said, completely unaware of where his thoughts had gone. “It’s not that I don’t or that I don’t trust your mom.”

  “I know.”

  She snuggled them close, pressed kisses to their heads. “Okay. I can do this.”

  She stood, and he took Parker from her. “I’ll do this guy. You do yours.”

  They settled each baby in a crib. Neither boy stirred.

  “No pinching,” Deacon said when she didn’t step away from the crib.

  “I wouldn’t do that.”

  “No. Of course not.” With a hand on her lower back, he guided her out the door.

  “Are you sure it’s not too much?” Clare asked his mother for the third time.

  And for the third time, his mother assured her it wasn’t. “Bill is perfectly capable of keeping track of the girls, which leaves my hands free for the boys.”

  “They should sleep until we’re back,” Clare said, sticking her arms in the coat Deacon held out for her.

  “I’m sure they will.”

  Then both girls screamed in delight as their grandfather tickled them. Clare winced and looked toward the stairs. She’d never be able to leave them if they were crying.

  “Okay, none of that,” his mom said to his father and the girls. “Time to settle down. Let’s get your books.”

  “I’ll get them!” Margo headed for the stairs, but Deacon caught her up before she could go bounding up the steps and down the hall.

  “Oh, no you don’t.”

  “I’ll get them,” his father said. “I know just which ones.”

  Now that their wild fun had been squashed, Margo turned her pout toward him. “Do you have to go, Daddy?”

  “Just for a little while.”

  “But I don’t want you and Clare to go.”

  Maci came over, lifting her arms to Clare, who bent, picked her up, and held her close. Deacon didn’t miss the awed look on his mother’s face. He felt the same.

  “You smell good,” Maci said then laid her head on Clare’s shoulder, twisting a strand of hair around her baby finger.

  Clare sent him an imploring look, and he felt his determination for alone time slipping.

  “Maybe we could—”

  “No. We couldn’t,” Deacon said before she could talk him into staying home. They needed this time together. “We’ll be back in a flash, babies.” Deacon kissed both girls. “I’ll sneak in and tickle your dreams.”

  His dad came back with a stack of at least twenty books, which got the girls’ attention.

  Deacon almost pumped his fist in triumph when he finally got Clare into the car. “We’re not going far. We can be home in five minutes.”

  “I know. I’m fine.” She fiddled with the buttons on her coat and stared at her purse, where he knew she’d just stuck her phone. “Did you think Maci felt warm?”

  “No,” he said, feeling a fullness in his chest. “But if she did, it was probably from playing cowboy with my dad. He’ll have them so riled up, they should be sound asleep when we get home. You can call if you want. My mom won’t mind.”

  Clare smiled. “Yes, she will. I would. I can at least wait until we’re out of the driveway to come up with something reasonable. Like I forgot my gloves. Oh, shoot. I did forget my gloves.”

  “Do you need them?”

  She bit her lip. “I mean, I guess not, I—” She closed her eyes briefly. “No. I don’t need them. Sorry.”

  “It’s fine. I was the same way.”

  “Did you leave the girls this early?”

  “I did.” His expression grew serious. “I had to go back to work. Hardest day of my life. One of the hardest.”

  “What was the hardest?”

  “The day I got the call in the Dominican.”

  “I can’t even imagine.” She shook her head.

  “A pain I can’t explain, being so far away and the possibility that—”

  Clare reached over and took his free hand. “I’m sorry.”

  He squeezed her hand, not saying anything, warmed by the feeling that he didn’t have to.

  After they were seated and had ordered drinks, Deacon took a moment just to look at Clare. Her hair was down like he remembered from before. There was a little color on her cheeks and lips.

  “So, does this meet the definition of date in your book?” he asked, remembering that first dinner and the date debate.

  She grinned. “Yes. I might even go so far as to call it a first date. Or a first date out in the wilds of the real world.”

  Their drinks arrived, and Deacon lifted his. “To the real world and first dates.” They clinked glasses.

  Clare took a small sip of wine. “Though it seems strange to back things up to firsts when we already crossed the finish line.”

  “I wouldn’t say we’ve reached the finish line,” he said seriously. “A victory, a success, yes. Two perfect little people, but definitely not finished.”

  She dropped her gaze, not sure how to respond. That was fine. It would give her something to think about. “I propose we don’t talk about babies or kids for the next hour. Do you think we can do it?”

  “I guess we could try. What should we talk about?”

  “Maybe all those first things we avoided.”

  So they talked of all the things they didn’t know about each other. There was fun in it, the discovery and the feeling that they both genuinely wanted to know. Two hours passed like a minute. College and first jobs, grade school accomplishments and defeats, and the journey of opening the veterinary practice. He wanted to stay longer, felt maybe she did too. Reluctantly, though, he asked for the check.

  “You did it,” he said, opening the car door for her. “First time leaving the babies. It’s a milestone.”

  “I did.” She turned to face him, the car behind her. “I’m glad you were with me.”

  He leaned in and pressed his lips to hers. “Wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”

  * * *

  THEY GREETED HIS PARENTS quickly then went upstairs to check on the kids. They peeked in on th
e babies first, both sound asleep, then the girls.

  “You were worried,” he whispered when they were back in the hallway.

  “Maybe. A little. Don’t tell your mom.”

  His answer was a devilish grin. “What will you pay for my silence?”

  “Deacon!”

  She needn’t have worried. When they returned downstairs, his parents were gone.

  “I guess they left,” Deacon said, stopping in front of the couch.

  “I guess they did,” Clare muttered, stopping a few feet from him. No parents. No kids. The boys would be up soon to eat, then again around two. Hopefully after that they’d make it until six or seven. But they weren’t awake now. Her heart beat faster.

  Deacon faced her, his eyes running over her face, licking flames down her body and back up. “I wanted to take you somewhere with music tonight.”

  “Why?”

  He grinned like a wolf at a lamb. “Come over here and I’ll show you.”

  She stayed where she was.

  “What are you afraid of, Clare?” His tone was teasing, but she was afraid. Not of him, but of herself and what she wanted. Of wanting it too much. With his eyes on hers, he moved toward her. When there was just a breath of air between them, he reached for her hand. “Let’s dance.”

  “I’m not much of a dancer if you remember.”

  “Oh, I remember,” he said in a tone that said he remembered a lot more than that. “I also remember I liked dancing with you.”

  She shuddered at the feeling of his arm slipping around her waist and his fingers wrapping around hers. Whenever Deacon touched her, everything else fell away. “There’s no music.”

  “I don’t need any. Do you?”

  “No.” It felt so good to be held by him. She rested her cheek against his chest, and he moved them in a slow circle, more of a sway than dance. Intoxicated by his scent and the safety she felt in his arms, she let herself be led.

  “Do you remember the first time we danced?” His cheek rested on the side of her head, and she felt his warm breath in her hair.

  “Yes.” She’d thought of it many times and hated herself for not being able to forget.