Simon chuckled. He climbed from the bed and padded naked to the en suite bathroom. I enjoyed the way the moonlight filled his dips in shadows, highlighting the ridges of muscle he worked hard to maintain.

He returned with a cloth and insisted on cleaning me. After returning the cloth to the bathroom, he brought me my flannel pajama pants and candy cane tee. I slid into them, a decadence warming my blood at my lack of panties. Simon pulled back on his boxer briefs and returned to the bed. He wrapped his arms around my waist, tucking my back to his chest.

We both shivered as the cool air from the room dissipated, replaced by our body heat. I snuggled in tighter, curling into the ball I preferred to sleep in these days.

“Promise you won’t hurt me,” I whispered.

Christmas Day proved low-key and much happier than I’d anticipated.

Angelica showed up midmorning with Simon’s bags. Jeremiah’s eyes sparked to life when he saw them, his eyes brimming with hope when they raised to mine.

“I love your father,” I said as Jeremiah stepped forward, settling next to me on the settee. “And he says he loves me.”

Simon came and sat on my other side, picking up my hand. “I do. You, too, Jeremiah.” His fingers drifted over the slight rounding of my belly. “And this little peanut.”

“What does this mean?” Jeremiah asked, his voice cracking.

I opened my mouth, but no words came out. I glanced up at Simon, not wanting to speak for him—unsure where we went from here.

“Glad you asked,” Simon said, voice brisk.

He squeezed my fingers before laying my hand back in my lap. He rose and went over to his bag where he pulled out a few presents. He settled them on the coffee table in front of me and his eyes darted to my parents, then Angelica’s. She nodded.

He took a deep breath and turned back to me.

“So, I’ve had some time to think about what I want.” He cleared his throat. “I’m hopeful that it’s what you want, too, Ella, but we’ll need to talk it through. Compromise to make sure you’re both happy.”

Simon’s tentativeness caused my heart to ache, but he needed to understand what his sole focus on his career did to our family.

He cleared his throat and glanced back at Angelica. She rolled her eyes and settled onto the large, tufted foot stool in front of my parents, who’d taken the overstuffed love seat.

“You make the best tea, Mrs. Browning.”

“Thank you, dear,” Mum replied. “So glad you could join us.”