his again. He opens the door to a sky blue room. “This is one of the girls’ rooms. I haven’t done any decorating. I thought I’d leave that to you.”
The room is pretty, with one of those bay window benches and a pretty glittery chandelier. I wander in, taking in the empty space. I open the closet doors and make my way to the en suite washroom — rustic shabby-chic vanities and an old-styled claw foot tub. It’s gorgeous.
“The girls’ rooms share a bathroom. As you can see, there’s another door at the other end. The other room is pink,” he goes on. “But we can change the colors easily if they’d prefer something else.”
He really wants to do this — live in domestic bliss with my daughters — girls he barely knows. Short of an overnighter in New York, he’s barely spent a minute with them. And now he’s ready to share his everyday life with them. And leave his own children.
It is crazy.
He’s not thinking straight.
“I should go,” I tell him, not wanting to see the master. One thing I’m sure of…I do not want to be alone in a master bedroom with this man.
He closes the distance between us. I find myself motionless as his eyes bore into mine. “Please stay,” he pleads, “just five more minutes.”
Still, I can’t seem to peel my gaze away from his. I wish he didn’t have those powerful eyes. “Five minutes, and I am not looking at the master.”
He smiles as he pulls me by the hand and brings me to a small room painted in shades of blue and green. My heart feels heavy as I take in the space. A beautiful mahogany crib sits under the window, dressed in light green crib bedding. An adorable mobile hangs overhead — cute green turtles. The sea theme is reflected throughout the room — a stuffed orange octopus on the rocking chair, a bright green eel wrapped around a basket of tiny diapers and a large stuffed grey shark hanging from the ceiling. Colorful fish line the wall and a photo sits up on the wooden shelf, framed by a three dimensional coral reef frame. I inch closer and look at the photo — a copy of my black and white ultrasound. I look over at the dresser and there are six wooden block letters in a myriad of colors — orange, green, blue, yellow, spelling out O-L-I-V-E-R. My eyes prick and I swallow hard, willing the tears away.
He smiles, his hands buried in his jean pockets. He bites his lip waiting for me to say something. I’m just not sure what to say.
“It looks like someone went a little crazy at the Sea World gift shop,” I try to tease but my voice is broken at the edges.
He eyes me with a sheepish smile.
“It’s beautiful. Did you have help?”
He shakes his head, his hands still in his pockets. “No,” he says. “All me.”
There’s something very sweet about the space, and it’s not only because it’s a nursery. I can see Weston’s essence in this space; from the clean lines, to the small wooden turtle sculpture on the dresser, to the glass starfish hanging in the window. I take the sculpture in my hand. “Is this yours?”
He nods. “It belongs to Oliver now.”
God, the man is killing me.
He wants this so much. I can see it. I wish I could give this to him. I wish I could give him so much more.
I inch closer to him, my steps slow. He eyes me, his expression hopeful, but he doesn’t move. I wrap my arms around him. I hadn’t planned to get close to him, but…
Damn him.
He stills for a few seconds, and his arms slowly make their way around my waist. As he holds me tighter, my whole body warms. I hold him closer and bury my head in the crook of his neck and breathe in the familiar wonderful earthy scent. I press my lips to his skin. I can feel the beating of his heart there. It beats so fast.
He’s gotten to me again. He grabs a hold of my heart and renders me senseless. I don’t know what to think anymore. Gabe encouraged me to explore my options, to really think about what I want, who I want to be with. He gave me permission to be with Weston again. I hadn’t planned on being with him again, but every cell in my body wants him. And he and