“Will you miss the bigger stadiums?” I asked as we meandered down the street. More snow fell in a soft, slow dance. “I never meant for you to give up performing, to quit your dream—”

He stopped on the sidewalk and turned toward me, his eyes searching mine. “I’m not quitting my dream. Like us, my dreams evolved.”

I waited, wanting to hear more, needing the reassurance he could give me.

“Ah, El. I can’t tell you how angry I am with myself. I already had everything I needed in you and Miah.” He fumbled to grab both my gloved hands. “I nearly threw it away to perform for bigger crowds—that’s all it is, really, a matter of scale. And the performing has never been as fulfilling as my life with you.”

“I don’t want you to resent me.” I let go of his hands to spread out my arms. “Us.” The baby kicked, and I winced. Simon grabbed my elbow. “My body doesn’t seem as mobile as it was when I was pregnant with Jeremiah.”

“Twelve years more wear and tear.” Simon deadpanned as I made a half-hearted attempt to smack his arm—the only part of him I could reach. “For me, too, El. Me, too. But you know what doesn’t change?” he asked.

He touched the corners of my eyes, his own gaze following his movement. He swept his fingertips up, gently, toward my brows and winged his fingers across them. “Your eyes. The love in them. The understanding that, yeah, I can be a selfish bastard, but I don’t mean it.” His lips quirked up. “At least not most of the time.”

His fingers trailed down to my lips and he leaned forward, filling my vision. “And the connection in our kisses. I broke something vital when I didn’t listen to your fears and insecurities, but I can still taste your caring, still feel the give in your soft lips. I’ll listen better.”

My breath shattered as he finished leaning in, fusing his mouth to mine. The touch was gentle, soft.

Just what I needed.

“I will, too.” I fumbled for his hand, squeezing his gloved fingers. “I’m sorry. For not trusting enough.”

“You have nothing to apologize for. We simply need to communicate better. And that starts with me being around more.”

He turned as he heard Jeremiah’s excited yell.

“Let’s head back,” Simon suggested.

“He wants to open the rest of his gifts, I’m sure.”

Simon’s arm wrapped around my waist. “Hope you got him something good.”

“Nothing as good as your gift.” I laughed. “He’s over the moon.”

Simon stopped. His face settling in stark lines. “I didn’t know what to get you.”

I reached up and touched his cheek, luxuriating in my right to do so as much as in the warmth that filtered through my glove.

“I have you.”