And worse because she couldn’t have him.
But hopefully, the baby could.
Law and Sawyer set her on the sand in front of him, and he smiled. “Everyone has been helping me with a remodel at the cottage. As you can imagine, the location makes it a bit of a challenge, so they made a human assembly line to help me get stuff in and out.”
“And I’m ‘stuff’ in this scenario?” She couldn’t help but smile, though.
He did, too, even as he winced. “You are. But you’re the most important stuff.” He ducked his head then, like he was shy. “Will you come see what I did?”
“Yes.”
She wasn’t sure what to say as they walked across the sand, but Mick saved the day by appearing out of nowhere, barking and wagging his butt. She bent down to pet him. She didn’t pick him up—she’d been having a bit of dizziness lately—but she ruffled his fur and said, “I missed you.”
“I missed you, too.”
She shot Jake a quizzical look. “I was talking to the dog.”
Ignoring this, he was the picture of chivalry as he held the cottage door for her and took her coat.
Inside, everything looked the same as it always had. “Where’s this remodel?”
He pointed down the hall and to the left.
“Your mom’s studio?”
“No.” He nodded for her to go ahead of him. “The nursery.”
And it was. She inhaled sharply. The walls were still covered with art, but it was bright, happy art—and he’d moved the painting of Jude in from the living room. The easels and paint-splattered tables were gone, replaced by a crib and a changing table and a rocking chair.
He steered her to that rocking chair, because her legs had lost their ability to hold her up, and somehow he knew. She plopped down unceremoniously and looked up at him.
“I’m sorry I reacted so poorly last week. I just…” He ran a hand through his hair. “I just never imagined getting a second chance. I didn’t feel like I deserved a second chance.”
“Jake. I—”
He held up a hand. “To be honest, I still don’t. But I’m working on that.” He cleared his throat. “I’ve got myself a therapist. A grief counselor. I’m going once a week for now.”
Tears gathered in Nora’s eyes. He was so strong. He’d always been strong, but to ask for help like that was maybe the strongest thing she’d known him to do. “Jake. I’m so glad for you.”
He picked up a quilt that was hanging over the edge of the crib. She recognized it as his mom’s handiwork. It was full of shards of exuberant color—limes and aquas and purples.
“This was Jude’s quilt. Kerrie asked if she could take it when she left, and I said yes. She had a daughter eighteen months ago. Sienna. Jude’s sister. Sienna used the quilt, too. Now it’s our turn—Kerrie gave it back with her blessing.”
“Thank you,” she whispered. Tears started to fall. Her kid had struck gold in the dad department. “I’m going to do up the nursery at my place—I’m buying a house, by the way—the same way. Maybe you’ll loan me some art. I was reading this book about coparenting, and—”
“Hang on.”
What? The heavy emotion that had been blanketing them had lifted a little, and he seemed…annoyed? Why was she having so much trouble recognizing emotions, both hers and his? Was that a pregnancy thing?
“Coparenting?” he said.
He probably didn’t know the term. “Yeah, it’s when two people who aren’t together agree to—”
“For a smart woman, you are such a—” He cut himself off and huffed a frustrated sigh. “Okay. This is my fault. I’m doing this wrong.” Before she could blink he was kneeling at the foot of her rocking chair. “Nora. I don’t want to coparent with you.” He said the word like it tasted bad in his mouth. “I mean, I will, if that’s what you want. If you won’t have me. But here’s what I should have led with.” He leaned forward, bracing his hands on the arms of the chair. “I love you.”
Tears started. She swiped them away and gave him her full attention, because he wasn’t done talking. “I fell in love with you even though I tried not to. You got me. Like the zombie apocalypse. You just kept coming at me, and…” He shook his head.
“Eating your brains?” She smiled through the tears.
“I’m still doing this wrong.” But he smiled back.
“Nah. I think you’re doing it exactly right. Keep going.”
“I love you. I’m gonna love the kid in there, too.” He nodded at her belly. “I just…I thought I’d had my shot. I thought loving you would somehow take away from how much I loved Jude. The reason I disappeared the morning after New Year’s Eve was that I realized I’d forgotten Jude’s birthday. It was on the thirtieth, and I just forgot it.”
He sounded so disgusted with himself, it nearly broke her heart.
“You make me forget, is my point. And even though it would be easier, and a lot less painful, part of me doesn’t want to forget. But if that’s the price I have to pay for you and our baby, I’ll gladly pay it.”
Oh, her sweet man-god, whose heart was the most beautiful thing about him. “I think,” Nora said gently, “that you’re looking at it the wrong way. I can help you remember. If you tell me about Jude, I can help you remember.” She settled a hand on her stomach. “We can all remember together.”
He nodded. He was crying. They were both crying.
He lifted his hands off the arms of the rocker suddenly, in a jerky sort of motion. It was like they’d moved of their own volition before he got control of them again and put them back down.
She thought she knew what was happening. She brought her hands to her belly. “You want to touch?”
“Can I?” he whispered.
“Of course.” She lifted her shirt up to expose the bump.
He put his hands on her, his big, rough, perfect hands, and it was such a relief.
He laid his cheek on her belly, too, and she tangled her hands in his hair. They stayed like that for a long time, breathing and listening to Mick’s quiet snoring. While they were having the most significant conversation of their lives, he had fallen asleep.
“You know, this room was really a symbolic gesture,” he said, his voice muffled as he spoke against her belly. The words tickled. “We can live in town. Or in Toronto, if you want to be near your family.”
She extracted one of her hands from his hair and swatted his head. “Oh, shut up. You know this is my dream house.”
“It is?” He sounded ridiculously pleased.
“They don’t call it Paradise Cove for nothing, do they?”
“I guess not. But what about your sister? The house?”
“Turns out you guys aren’t the only ones with meddling old people in your lives. My grandma left Erin her condo. She’s going to sell it and get a place of her own, but she’s been harassing me about cottages. She has this idea that they’re all going to descend on Moonflower Bay in the summers.” She snorted. “So you might have to, like, build a guest wing.”