Page 24

Chapter Eight

Jordan

The kids were asleep.

And so was his wife.

But he was sitting at the kitchen table, putting the finishing touches on the file for Heather and wondering if he’d done enough over the last couple of weeks to prove to Abby that he was in for the long haul or if he needed to do more.

Did she know?

Did she feel how desperate he was to keep her? To prove to her he had staying power?

He hoped for the first, not for the second two. No man wanted to be seen as desperate, and certainly not by the woman he was desperate for.

At least, he thought that should be the case.

But it was becoming harder and harder to not just tell her that he was still thinking about what she’d said, that it was affecting him still, that he wanted her to know that—

Ping.

An email hit his inbox, his eyes flashing to the corner and seeing that it was a message from . . .

Abby?

“Uh,” he muttered, not particularly eloquently, but his fingers moved over the trackpad, and he clicked on the message anyway.

Jordan,

I know I hurt you. I’ve seen it in your eyes, even though you’ve tried to pretend everything is fine. Take it from someone who has plenty of experience pretending, none of that will make any difference. It will keep eating at you, keep making your thoughts all twisted up and impossible to let go.

But I was lucky enough to have a husband who understands and cares and loves me unconditionally, friends who push me to get my own head out of my ass, and a wonderful family I feel absolutely privileged to be a part of.

And yet, I know that sometimes all of those things don’t make a difference.

Sometimes your mind won’t let you out of that tangle.

So, I’ve decided to yank you out myself—with a journey. ;) Hopefully by the end, with all the evidence, you will see you are not like them. I hope you will see all you mean to me, how much I love you, how strongly you’ve stitched yourself into the fabric of my soul. Forever.

That’s your first clue. Now here’s your second.

You started with a chain, then a slip, and a single and a double.

—Your love,

A

He sat for a moment, staring in wonder at the email, reading it through again, and feeling his heart squeeze tight.

He hadn’t been fooling her, not for a moment, had he?

Just as she hadn’t fooled him with all of her “I’m fine” nonsense.

Jordan hadn’t been able to sit back and watch her zombie-ing through life all uncertain and lost. Just as she, apparently, couldn’t stand to watch him unravel. Stubborn, the both of them, but also stubborn in the best way.

God, he loved this woman.

And he knew exactly where the first clue was leading him.

He closed his computer and walked into the family room, heading for the basket she used to keep by the couch, but was now kept on one of the built-in shelves.

Tucked in between two skeins—see? He had learned something from his wife’s crochet lessons—of yarn, was a small folded piece of paper with his name written on the outside in Abby’s messy handwriting.

Your clue is a wall we created out of love, one that I insisted upon, but one that you insisted was laid out in crisp, even perfection. Every time I look at it, I feel my heart grow full at what we’ve made.

His gaze flew up, locking onto the wall where Abby had nixed hanging his favorite painting and instead insisted upon hanging family pictures when they’d moved into this house.

It had begun small—starting with just the two of them, then the addition of Hunter, then adding Abby’s pregnant belly, then Carter, then another pregnant belly, and then .

. . a new addition that hadn’t been there earlier in the day.

The five of them gathered together on the couch, Hunter tickling Carter, Abby holding Emma, who was smiling, and him, his face turned toward his family, love shining brightly in his expression.

His heart thumped.

Then he walked over and grasped the slip of paper tucked under one corner of the picture.

I love you and our family, more than words can express.

For your next clue, go peek in on our newest and find her favorite lovey.

He smiled and quietly went up the stairs.

Then just as quietly, he slipped into Emma’s room, moving to the ugly stuffed dog that had once been Abby’s childhood toy and was now Emma’s absolute favorite thing to stare at. Currently, it occupied the rocking chair, another slip of paper folded underneath its right foot.

He opened it.

Our littlest is trouble, just like her mama, but I know you love us both very much. Now, for your next clue, find little squishie’s favorite book, and further that, his favorite page. :)

Jordan tiptoed over to the crib, brushing a soft finger over Emma’s nose. She frowned, just like her mom did when he touched her while she was sleeping. Laughing softly, he left her room, walked down the hall, and moved into Carter’s room.

Who was passed out in his toddler bed, his butt stuck in the air, same as he’d slept since he’d been able to roll onto his belly to get into that position.

Navigating the stuffed animals and books and Duplos littering the floor, Jordan went to the bookcase and pulled out Goodnight Moon .

“And a comb and a brush and a bowl full of mush,” he whispered to himself, opening up to Carter’s page, heart thudding when his fingers brushed another slip of paper.

I knew you’d find it because you’re a great father, because you pay attention to the details. You always remember the important things, and we are so lucky to have you. Now before I cry (damned hormones!), you’ll find your next clue in the last-minute project you ran out to get supplies for.

He’d known it was coming, that logic told him he’d be next journeying to Hunter’s room. But, considering he’d been cursing to himself about having to craft a mission out of popsicle sticks and craft glue only hours before, this made him smile.

After quietly closing the door behind him, he moved to his oldest son’s room, heart expanding with love when he saw the mini-me of his brother sacked out on top of the covers, a book open on his chest. Such a voracious reader, just like Abby was.

And . . . just like Zach had been. Though he missed his brother intensely, Jordan knew he was beyond lucky to have Hunter in his life.

Carefully, he put a bookmark in to keep Hunter’s place—he’d lived with bookworms long enough to not make that mistake—set the book aside and tugged the covers up and over his son.

Then he moved over to the dreaded mission project to read the note propped up outside its front door.

If you were like our dads, you wouldn’t have known about my crocheting or the photos. If you were like your or my father, you wouldn’t have known about the lovely or the favorite page in the book or Hunter’s last-minute project. If you were like them, you wouldn’t know where to find me now.

So for your final clue, your wife will be in her favorite place. The one you made so special for her.

“Fuck, but I love you, Abby,” he whispered, pocketing the note, and continuing down the hall. Past their bedroom and into the small study that he’d converted into a reading nook.

White shelves stacked high with books. A comfy chair with colorful throw pillows and fluffy blankets. A space heater because the blanket was never enough.

And his wife.

Sitting on that chair, with a fuzzy throw covering her, a book in her lap.

In her favorite pajamas, cozy socks on the feet sticking out from beneath the blanket.

She set the book aside. “Hi,” she whispered.

His heart was full. “Hi, baby,” he said, crossing over to her. “How—” He broke off, not knowing what to say except, “I love you.”

Her eyes were gentle. “I love you, too. I’m sorry if I didn’t show that to you before, or at least not how I should have.” She brushed her fingers over his jaw. “I’m sorry I hurt you.”

He took those fingers in his, squeezed lightly. “Honey, don’t say that. I’m fine. I—”

“ Jordan .” Her voice was firm. “Don’t sweep this under the rug. I hurt you.”

He started to shake his head, then stopped, knowing he owed them both the truth. “Okay, I was hurt. I felt . . .” A sigh, but she was silent. “I think part of me has always worried I’ll turn out like them, even though I know exactly how valuable our life is.”

“But you’re not like them.” She took his hand, squeezed it. “And I’m so sorry that I made you think that.”

“It’s o—”

“Not okay,” she said sternly. “Certainly not okay. But I’ll do what it takes to prove to you that my insecurity was about me, about my childhood baggage, and had nothing to do with you.”

His heart was full, that jagged cut not nearly so painful.

Because of the notes and the journey, because of the love and care in her eyes, her touch, her words.

He cupped her cheek. “I’m familiar with baggage, childhood and otherwise, but it’s so much easier to bear knowing I have you and the kids.

You make my life full. And the notes . .

. baby . . . the things you said.” His voice cracked, but he pushed on.

“I don’t think I’ve ever felt more loved or appreciated, and I want you to feel that same way, to be secure that I’m not going to leave you like our fathers did, trading wives and families like baseball cards.

” He brushed her hair back from her face.

“I want you to know that I’m here for the long haul and don’t care what you look like or how many kids are running around our house or whether or not I have to go out for wood glue.

I love you . The person you are inside. The person you’ve helped me become.

The family we’ve built. The—” His throat went tight, words stoppering up at the top of it.

“I just love you,” he finished, not too poetically, but it was the truth.

And probably the most important truth.

“I love you, too,” she said, lips curved into a soft smile.

“Throughout these last couple of weeks, I realized I was living in comparisons.” A shrug.

“I know that doesn’t make much sense, but basically I was comparing my body to how it looked before kids, comparing the things we’re not doing with what we used to do, comparing everything I felt for you and how much it has changed.

And it is different.” She bit her lip. “I was worried that because my love felt different from a few years ago, it meant yours did too and that it would mean your passion would fade or that you would eventually want something different.”

“Abbs—”

“But now I understand my mind, my feelings better,” she said, squeezing his hand.

“We’re not in the first bloom of love, we’re in the forest of it.

We’re the tall trees growing up to the sky, the flowers sprouting beneath, the animals and critters weaving and running in between.

Clearly, I’m not one for poetry.” A laugh as she shook her head.

“But suffice to say, I’ve realized comparing our life now to how it had once been without thinking of how much it has expanded is unacceptable.

It may be different, but for all the differences, it’s so fucking incredible that sometimes I feel like I’m at risk of waking up from the best dream ever.

Because”—she leaned forward, brushed her lips across his—“I have you and Hunter and Carter and Emma and my nosy friends, and we’ve made our own family that’s not in the shadow of what we grew up in.

It’s fully in the sunshine and it’s wonderful. ”

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he groaned, the words broken, tears dangerously close to spilling over. “You’re killing me.”

“Good,” she whispered, “because I’m about to kill you some more.

” And with a wicked smile, she shimmied out of her pajama pants then undid the first button of her top, then the next and the next and the next, until she was clad in only a silken black negligée.

“I’ve decided to love my body for the cow it is”—her smile turned mischievous as she brought his hand to her breast—“but I might need you to remind me of that every once in a while.”

“Once in a while?” he rasped.

“Yes,” she said, arching into his touch. “And also right now.”

Then she kissed him, slipping her tongue into his mouth, love and passion and desire mixing together until he broke apart to pay gentle homage to those glorious breasts, until he’d skimmed his fingers over the soft curve of her belly, the gentle slopes of her thighs.

“Get me naked, baby,” she whispered, squirming against him, against the light strokes of his fingers.

“In a minute.” Another stroke that made her gasp.

One more that made her groan. Then he slid the straps from her shoulders, tugged it off her body, and showed her exactly how much he loved her body—stroking her naked skin, kissing his way down her torso, licking her between her thighs. He pulled out every last trick he knew.

“Oh God!” she moaned, gripping his shoulders, tugging him down over her. “Enough, Jor. I want you inside.”

Since that was where he wanted to be too, he made short work of removing his clothes, crawled back onto that big chair, and then slid inside.

“Yes,” she groaned, holding him close. “God, I’ve missed this.”

He was too close to the edge to risk any words. Instead, he concentrated on gaining control and not blowing his load. And then he concentrated on bringing her to that edge with him.

Then beyond it.

Thank fuck, she made it over the precipice.

Because in the next second, he exploded, pleasure flooding him for an eternity, before he collapsed on top of her, barely having the presence of mind to roll to the side so he didn’t crush her, as he caught his breath.

Long minutes later, she stiffened in his arms.

“Sweetheart?” he asked.

“Please, tell me we didn’t just make baby number four,” she said, eyes wide.

Because . . . birth control. Right . They hadn’t worried about that much over the last years of pregnancy.

“Shit,” he whispered.

But then her lips curved, her arms wrapped around him, and her mouth found his, laughing as she broke away and shook her head. “Well, if we hop aboard that train, I’m glad I have you with me.”

“First-class cabin all the way.”

And as they both laughed, Jordan hugged her tight, knowing that truer words had never been spoken.

He was so glad to have her with him.