“You, like, want to get with her now or something?”

Jeremiah’s hands fisted, and Philip, acting the fool, patted his balled-up hands. “I’ll always want to spend time with your mum.”

“Then what do you want?” Jeremiah asked.

Always curious. But now, suspicious, too. I closed my eyes, too weary of the constant ache in my heart to correct Jeremiah’s manners.

“What I want isn’t the question. Your mother needs people who care for her. I’m one of those people, same as you.”

Philip’s words should have filled me with pleasure, but they didn’t. Dread ate at the edges of my mind, overwhelming me. Simon filed for divorce. We’d had no separation. He just . . . left me because I no longer fit his life.

I wasn’t ready for this. Any of it.

I bowed my head, once again refusing to let the tears build or fall.

Jeremiah sucked in a big breath that caused a slight whistle when it passed his teeth. “Well, that’s okay, I guess. Mom could use a friend while we’re here. But don’t go hurting her feelings or anything. She’s pregnant and needs to chill out.”

I stifled a laugh as I raised my head. “Let me guess—Briar?”

“Yeah, Aunt Briar said babies take up lots more space in your head and heart than in your body.”

“Smart lady, your aunt,” Philip said with a smile in his voice.

“Yeah, she’s okay,” Jeremiah said with a shrug. “You sure you don’t want to date my mom? Or kiss her?” Jeremiah practically growled those last words.

Philip leaned in closer, his eyes twinkling. “Well, who wouldn’t want to kiss her? She’s very pretty. But I won’t.” He raised his hands, palms up in a gesture of supplication. “Kinsmen’s promise.”

“What’s that?” Jeremiah asked, back to being suspicious.

“I promise on my father’s grave I shan’t kiss you mother.” Philip winked at me. “Not until she asks me to.”

Jeremiah studied Philip for a long moment before he gave a brief nod. He turned to me, his expression filled with concern, looking so much like his father; I couldn’t stop the lump forming in my throat. Why did I keep having this reaction? No one died. My son glowed with health and energy, my baby lay safe in my womb. Jeremiah wrapped his arm around my shoulder in a gentle gesture, completely at odds with his typical exuberance, and kissed my cheek.

“Gramps, Gran, and I are going to go get the tree.”

“Oh! I’ll go, too.”

Jeremiah’s face morphed into the same stern lines Simon’s did when he was displeased with me. “You will not. Gran wants you to stay here and rest.” When I opened my mouth to argue, he said, “Please, Mom.”

I snapped my jaw shut and smiled, cupping his cheek. “I like the fluffy ones.”