He gripped the edges of the counter and took a deep breath. He did it just like Mitch had taught him, breathing in deeply through his nose—first filling the top part of his chest, and then feeling his ribcage expand as far as it could go, until his lungs were full. He held his breath for five seconds and then let it out slowly.
Then he did it again.
By the third breath he felt calm again, in control.
The kind of love his mother was talking about wasn’t something he was capable of anymore. That part of him was dead.
But in spite of what his mother had said, that didn’t have to be a deal-breaker. He’d make it clear to Erin in other ways that he was there for her, that he would always take care of her and the baby. And that they ought to get married.
He intended to protect Erin, and their daughter, as long as there was breath in his body.
That would have to be enough.
“Have you thought about names?” his mother asked Erin over dessert. Allison had just announced that she and Rick had definitely decided on Matthew—or possibly Ian.
Erin looked a little uncertain. “Well, I did have one in mind, but I don’t know how you’ll feel about it. I was thinking…maybe…Megan.”
It was his youngest sister’s name—the one who’d died of cancer when he was twenty-one.
His mother’s eyes were wet, and so were Allison’s. Even his father’s eyes were suspiciously bright.
“Oh, Erin,” his mother said now, reaching across the table and grabbing her hand. “I think that would be wonderful. Of course if you change your mind that’s all right, too,” she added quickly.
“She can’t change her mind now,” Jake said gruffly. “Everyone’s crying into their pumpkin pie.”
His mother frowned at him. “Don’t you think it’s a lovely idea?”
The truth was, he didn’t. He wished Erin had talked to him about this before announcing it to her family and making it impossible to back out.
But he couldn’t say that out loud. So he just shrugged and said, “Of course I do.”
They finished their dessert and watched a little football in the living room, but Jake wanted to make sure Erin got plenty of sleep that night and suggested they head out about an hour into the game.
Erin was silent on the ride back.
“You’re pretty quiet,” he commented as they went inside and turned on the lights. “Did you eat too much turkey?”
She didn’t answer his question. “Why don’t you like the name Megan?” she asked instead, sitting down in her overstuffed armchair.
He’d hoped she hadn’t noticed his reaction. “I do like it.”
“Jake,” she said, shaking her head at him.
He sat down on the couch across from her. “You’ll think it’s stupid.”
“No, I won’t.”
He dragged a hand through his hair. “I just think it could be…I don’t know, bad luck or something.”
She frowned. “Because Megan died?”
It sounded even stupider out loud than it had in his head. “Yeah.”
She kicked off her shoes and tucked a foot underneath her. “If you don’t want to name the baby Megan, we won’t. I’d rather choose a name we both like.”
He shrugged irritably. “You saw how my family reacted. It was like you’d given them this amazing gift. I’m not going to be the guy who screws that up.”
“But if it would make you feel like our daughter was destined to get cancer or something—”
Bile rose in his throat. “Let’s not talk about this. Okay?”
“Okay,” she said softly.
He rested his elbows on his knees and clasped his hands between them, frowning at the floor without seeing it. He hated being reminded that there were some things he couldn’t guard against.
When he looked up again he saw Erin with her hand on her neck, making a face as she tried to work out a kink.
Why was he wasting time worrying about things he couldn’t control? He should be focused on what was right in front of him.
“Come here and let me do that for you.”
She dropped her hand, her cheeks coloring. “I’m fine. Just a little stiff.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You’ve been doing shoulder rolls all day. And this isn’t the first time I’ve seen you trying to give yourself a massage.”
She hesitated, biting her lip. “I do have this horrible crick in my neck. I can feel it all the way down my arm.”
Was she actually considering letting him help her? He must be making more progress than he realized.
He slid to one side of the couch and patted the cushion next to him. “At your service. Shoulder rubs are definitely part of my job description, right?”