Cat’s eyes misted, but she remained stock-still. Hank leaned forward.
“If you don’t love me—if you can’t see yourself being happy with me and my simpler life—then I’ll accept that and walk away. But don’t push me out because you’re afraid I can’t be happy with you. ’Cause the truth is, I’m not happy without you, Cat.”
His eyes stung from his own damned tears. “I’m not pretending the fact we probably won’t ever create children together is insignificant, but it also doesn’t mean we can’t create a family. Somehow, some way, we can. It’s too early to make lifelong promises, but let’s at least be willing to take a chance. To figure out if what’s between us is something that can last. You won’t be the only one risking your heart, Cat, ’cause I’m already there.”
Hank crossed the room and kneeled beside Cat the instant he noticed her lips trembling. He raised her hand toward his mouth and kissed her wrist. “Please trust me when I tell you I know my own heart.”
“I want to believe you.” She wiped beneath her eye and sniffled. “You have to know how much I want to believe you.”
“Believe it. Roll the dice with me,” he said before he pulled her into a kiss that carried two weeks’ worth of emotion and longing. Home.
“I missed you, Hank. I missed you so much.” Her wet cheeks brushed against his neck as he held her tight, thankful to God for giving him another shot.
“I missed you, too.”
An urgent rush of desire caused him to push her deeper into the chair and claim her mouth with the hungry kisses of a starving man. Cat’s hands slipped beneath his shirt and scorched his skin. He locked eyes with hers, reveling in her heated gaze and swollen lips.
He glanced down at her shirt. His voice turned husky. “What skimpy underwear are you hiding under there? More red?” Using his good hand, he tugged her open collar aside to expose a white floral-embroidered underwire bra. The contrast between the innocent appeal of the fabric and the sinfully sexy woman aroused him beyond measure. “I love your fancy bras.”
He dragged his mouth across her cleavage and over the sheer material, sucking it hard. Cat arched her back and moaned.
“I missed this,” Hank uttered against her skin. Goose bumps broke out along his back wherever her hands brushed his skin. “I love the way you taste.”
“I love the way you make me feel,” she murmured into his ear.
Hank held her close. “I love you, Catalina. Don’t shut me out again, okay?” His thumb was caressing her cheeks when he felt a tear. “What’s wrong?” She shivered, so he tried to hold her tighter despite his splint. “Tell me.”
“I hope you don’t ever regret me.”
“Don’t be afraid, Cat.” Hank smiled and kissed her collarbone. “I’ll never, ever regret you.”
EPILOGUE
Mom,
This is the first Christmas I’ve looked forward to since you died. I put your lighted angel on the top of my tree and made a wish, although it seems like most of my wishes have already come true. One will never happen (your meeting Hank), but I finally believe some day, some way, I will be a mother.
When that happens, I hope I can be half the mother—half the woman—that you were.
Cat pulled into Hank’s driveway and parked behind his truck. She swung open the front door and called out, “Hello?”
No answer. She crossed to the master bedroom, which he’d moved into recently. Although his mother never returned home, Hank had left her room untouched until she died the week following Halloween. Two weeks later, Cat had helped Jenny clear out the room and then convinced Hank to repaint and decorate it for himself. She popped her head inside the door, but it was empty.
Swiveling around, she walked through the house and into the backyard. A faint melody emanated from his shop, and she saw lights on through the garage windows.
Once his wrist had healed well enough to be optimistic about a full recovery, they’d revisited their plans for Mitchell/St. James and taken a private commission to build David and Vivi a dining room table.
Cat loved watching him work, so she sauntered over to the garage to peek inside.
Hank sat on the floor, wiping down the legs of a gorgeous burled-wood writing desk. When the door creaked, he swung around.
“Hey, I didn’t expect to see you this evening. I thought you had a final today,” he said. “Shouldn’t you be studying?”
“Early morning test, which I’m sure I aced. I’m free until January now.” She crossed her arms to fend off the cold. “What are you working on?”