“Sore?” He glanced toward the door, thinking to call a nurse.
“It’s okay. He’s worth it.” She got her arm out of the sleeve of her gown, exposing her swollen breast.
“Do you, um, want to cover up with something?” He looked around for a towel.
“Why?” She drew the edge of her gown across her chest again. “Is there someone else in here?”
“No, just me.”
“Oh, well, that’s okay then, isn’t it?” She started to reveal herself again, but hesitated, her confused gaze striking his with shadows of such deep uncertainty, his heart hurt.
“Of course it’s okay.” He wanted to lean down and kiss her, he was so moved that she still felt so natural around him. It could only mean good things, couldn’t it?
Adara could hardly look into Gideon’s eyes, but she couldn’t look away. He delved so searchingly into her gaze, as if looking for confirmation they stood a chance, but she’d treated him so badly, rejecting him for being as self-protective as she’d always been. She didn’t know how to bridge this chasm between them.
Their son found his voice with an insistent yell and made them both start.
And then, even though she’d had a brief lesson before falling asleep, Adara had to learn to breast-feed, which wasn’t as natural a process as some mothers made it look. She wasn’t sure how to hold him. Her breast was too swollen for such a tiny mouth.
Their son surpassed his patience and grew too fussy to try. Gideon looked at her with urgency to get the job done as the baby began to wail in earnest.
“What am I doing wrong?” she cried.
“Don’t look at me, I’ve never done it either. Here, I’ll sit beside you and hold him so you can line him up— There, see? He’s never done it, either, but he’s getting it.”
She didn’t know what was more stingingly sweet: the first pull of her baby’s mouth on her nipple or the stirring way Gideon cradled her against his chest so he could help her hold their baby. Adara blinked back tears, frantically wondering how she could be so close to Gideon and feel he was so far out of reach at the same time.
She tensed to hide that she was beginning to tremble, finding words impossible as emotion overwhelmed her. At least she had her back tucked to his chest and he couldn’t see her face.
He seemed to react to her tension, pulling away with a grimace that he smoothed from his expression before she’d properly glimpsed it. Standing by the bed with his hands in the pockets of his rumpled work pants, he stared at the baby.
She did too, not knowing where else to look, then became fascinated by the miracle of a closed fist against her breast, tiny lashes, the peek of a miniature earlobe from beneath the edge of the blue cap.
A drop of pure emotion fell from her eye, landing on his cheek.
“Oh,” she gasped, drying the betraying tear. “I’m just so overwhelmed,” she said, trying to dismiss that she was crying over a lot more than the arrival of their son.
“I know.” Gideon’s blurred image took a step forward and he gestured helplessly. “I didn’t expect it to be like this.”
Like this. Those words seemed to encompass a lot more than a safe delivery after so many heartaches.
Adara blinked, trying to clear her vision to see what was in his face, eyes, heart, but all she could think was that she’d screwed up and thrown away something unbelievably precious. Her eyes flooded with despondent tears.
“Please come home,” she choked out. “With us. We won’t be a family without you and I miss you so much—” She couldn’t continue.
“Oh, babe.” He rushed forward, his warm hand cupping her face as he settled his hip beside her thigh and drew her into him, pressing hot lips against her temple, her wet cheek, her trembling lips. “I’ve been trying to think how I’d ever convince you to let me. I’m sorry.”
She shook her head, burying her face in the hollow of his shoulder as she tried to regain control. “It’s okay.” She sniffed. “It was never easy for me to tell you about my childhood horrors. I shouldn’t have expected you to revisit yours without some serious prodding.”
He massaged the back of her head, his chin rubbing her hair. “I didn’t want to, but mostly because I knew it could be the breaking point of our marriage. I didn’t want that. And not because it would expose me. I didn’t want to lose you. Does it help at all to know that I’ve always felt married to you? Maybe it wasn’t legal, but it was real to me. You’re my wife, Adara.”
She nodded. “I am.”
He laughed a little, the sound one of husky joy. “You are.” He drew back, cupping her face as he looked for confirmation in her eyes. “You are.”