“Hi, baby. I’m your daddy. I can’t wait to meet you.”

The baby kicked again, and I chuckled as I rubbed my cheek against Ella’s belly. She dropped her hands into my hair, connecting to me.

“But maybe slow down on giving your mom such a hard time. We got lots of years to worry over you, okay?”

Ella made a strangled noise, her fingertips touching her lips, her eyes filling with tears.

“What? What is it?” I asked. My anxiety spiked. “Do you feel okay?”

She met my gaze, tears leaking from the corners of her eyes. “I don’t want to raise this girl without you.”

I pulled her tight to my chest, my throat working as another bout of emotion brimmed there. “You don’t have to. I’ll never ask that of you. I promise, Ella.”

She smiled, her eyes brightening. “I heard you—what you said to that girl. What you said on stage…” She closed her eyes. “I knew the sex would be easy, I knew women would throw themselves at you, and that scared me. Made me jealous. I…I messed up, too. I let those fears, that jealousy grow and take over what I knew to be true about you.” She cupped my cheek. “I’m sorry. So sorry I doubted you.”

I pressed a kiss to her palm, holding her hand to my cheek. “Ella.”

“I was to be us again,” she whispered.

“Me, too. I want that more than anything.”

I glanced up at the soft sound across the room. I caught a glimpse of Jeremiah’s grin and Angelica’s back before the door that led into the pub clicked shut.

19

Ella

I launched myself forward, hurtling too fast, but Simon caught me. As he had that first night of our honeymoon in Sonoma when I leapt from halfway down the staircase. As he had when I miscarried seven years ago.

But this embrace was gentle, his arms absorbing my weight as he maneuvered my slight belly so it was cradled against his stomach.

His nose found its spot in the curve of my neck and we both exhaled in a rush.

“Ella. Shit, El, I’ve missed you.”

“Simon.” I pulled him tighter to me, needing his strength, his warmth. Needing him.

I soaked up Simon’s unique scent, the strength of the tendon and sinew that cradled me with such care. The soft rasp of his voice as he whispered his sorrow, his love into my skin.

We stayed there, in that drafty back room in the pub, wrapped around each other for much longer.

Finally, Simon pulled back, his eyes red-rimmed. “You need to get off your feet. Let me take you home.”

“Back to your hotel,” I said.

Simon shook his head. “Tomorrow’s Christmas. We’re going to your parents’ so you can be there for Miah.” He dropped his gaze, suddenly unsure. “Do you think they’ll let me stay?”