She was falling in love with him.
* * *
Dillon stood in the kitchen later that afternoon, staring down at the white envelope on the counter. His gut knotted. The envelope had arrived yesterday, but so far he hadn’t had the courage to open it. The white paper taunted him, daring him to face reality.
The results from the lab. The answer he’d been sure he wanted three weeks ago now stared him in the face. If it turned out to be negative, if Annie wasn’t his, Emma would have the right to take her and walk away. His life would go back to the way it was before the two of them marched in and took over.
He turned his gaze to Emma. She flew an airplane of applesauce into Annie’s open, giggling mouth, tenderness lighting her eyes when her gaze shifted and collided with his. The building sense of closeness between them wasn’t what scared him. It was the thought of losing her, of losing both of them, of waking up one day and not finding them there. Or worse, having to watch her take Annie and leave. He didn’t think he was strong enough to do that, watch her walk out of his life. Spend another eight years wondering if he’d ever see her again.
Emma smiled. “What’s the matter?”
“The test results came back.” A sense of numb shock stole over him. He held up the envelope.
Her brows rose, curiosity lighting her eyes. “What’s it say?”
He held the envelope out in front of him. His mind tried to process what he knew to be true and the paper trembled in his hands. “Don’t know. I haven’t opened it yet.”
“What are you waiting for?”
He met her gaze. “I’m not sure I want to know anymore.”
He’d rather live with the uncertainty of not knowing whether Annie was truly his or not, than have to face the possibility she wasn’t and watch Emma take her and walk out of his life.
Emma stared at him for a long moment. Slowly her eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Are you hoping she is yours…or hoping she’s not?”
Her question twisted at his gut. He dragged shaky hands through his hair. How the hell had he gotten to this point? Three weeks ago he hadn’t even been sure how he’d fit a baby into his life. Now he couldn’t imagine his life without her. Couldn’t imagine his life without Emma. Had no idea how he’d go back to the place where he came home to an empty house, an empty bed.
A place that scared the hell out of him because he wanted to go to her, fall to his knees at her feet, and lay his heart on the line. He wanted to make the three of them a family and the thought had cold, blind panic closing around him. His heart threatened to come out of his chest and breathing became near impossible. Every bad relationship he’d ever had flashed before his eyes. Every heartache when he discovered he’d been used again rose up around him, tightening his chest. Deep down, he knew Emma was different, but that wounded part of him couldn’t help wondering—would she be next?
Acid rose up the back of his throat, and he twisted away from her. Right or wrong, he couldn’t, wouldn’t, go there again. Not now. Not ever.
“I can’t do this anymore.” The words slipped off his lips on a vague whisper, his voice trembling along with the rest of him.
Annie was different. Annie was simple. Whether she was his or not he’d stand by her.
His feelings for Emma were all kinds of complicated. He couldn’t go down that road again. He couldn’t go back to that place where he put his heart in the hands of someone else. Wait to see if she shredded it like all the rest. He’d been there one too many times, been let down once too often. While his head told him Emma would never hurt him like that, his heart simply didn’t want to find out. He could deny it all he wanted, but he knew damn well what he felt for her went beyond anything he’d ever felt before. Lying in her arms was like coming home. He felt safe there. Safe and secure.
He’d been wrong before. At one point, he was positive Leila wouldn’t ever hurt him like that either.
“Do what?”
At the sound of her voice, he turned. Emma’s eyes widened with confusion, searching his. Her chest rose and fell at an increasing pace.
“Us.” He forced the words to leave his mouth. “I’m sorry, but it has to stop.” He shook his head, willing her to understand. “I don’t want to hurt you, but I told you. I can’t do a relationship right now, and with Annie, my hands are going to be full. I simply don’t have time for this. I think it’s better if we just…end this now.”
It was a bold-faced lie, but it had the desired effect—it severed all ties with one simple, neat slice. Emma’s face went pale. Her mouth dropped open like she had something to say, but no sound came out. For a long moment, she stared at him, and his gut twisted. Some part of him longed to go to her, to soothe the hurt in her eyes, but he couldn’t. It wouldn’t change anything.