The Presence of Grace (Love and Loss #2) Read online

  When we were both done eating, I pushed my chair back and turned it, then crooked a finger at her.

  “Come here, Grace.”

  She gave me a shy smile, but followed my instructions, walking around the table and stopping in front of me. I wrapped my arm around her waist and eased her down on my lap, pulling her close. She laughed and looped one arm around the back of my neck, giving me her signature bright smile.

  “So,” she said, laughing and swinging her legs. “Now’s the part of the evening where we talk, huh?”

  “Right,” I said, settling my hand on her knee, making her legs still. “I want you to talk to me, but I want you to turn off your filter for a few minutes, and talk to me like you’re not afraid of what the consequences might be.”

  “All right,” she said, her voice unsure, her body tensing up.

  “Hey.” My hand on her knee moved to cup her face. “Don’t do that, don’t put up any walls. I just want to talk.” She nodded, so I continued. “Tell me, honestly, the man you see yourself with for the rest of your life, how does he support you in regard to having children?”

  Her eyes went wide with my question, but I simply slid my hand around the back of her neck and brought her forehead to mine. “It’s okay, Grace. We’re not making plans here, we’re just talking. I want to know where your head is at, how you’re feeling, and what you want in the future. Just talk to me.” She nodded again, took in a deep breath, then relaxed a little as she exhaled. I loosened my hold on her, and we both leaned back. She bit her lip again, her eyes on the hand in her lap, fidgeting, but then eventually her gaze met mine.

  “After everything that happened with Jeff, I’d pretty much resigned myself to never having kids. For a long time, I thought I’d never want to be with another man again. You know, scorned woman and all. I figured I’d be single forever and be a fabulous unmarried woman. But then the years passed and I realized I didn’t want to be alone forever. The idea of dating again started to seep in, but I never did because every time I pictured myself dating a man, I pictured having the conversation with him I had with you today. And I always pictured him leaving afterward.” She dropped her eyes again, looking down at her lap. “I mean, no man would want a barren woman.”

  “Hey, stop it,” I whispered, squeezing her knee for emphasis.

  She shrugged. “I’m being honest, Devon.”

  I couldn’t argue with that. Honesty was what I’d asked for.

  “Anyway,” she continued. “If Jeff hadn’t cheated on me, if we’d stayed together, I would have done another round of IVF. It was hard, and it was painful in all kinds of ways, but I would have done it again. So, I guess my future husband would have to be onboard for that. Or at least open to it.” She shrugged again and let out a breath.

  “What all does that entail?”

  “It involves a lot. He would have to give me daily injections of hormones. It’s a lot of doctor appointments, ejaculating into a cup, and watching me go through some painful procedures. It’s crazy mood swings and a lot of emotional breakdowns.” She sighed, pushing her brown locks out of her face. “It’s also expensive, and not guaranteed. You end up spending twenty thousand dollars and in the end you might not even have a baby.”

  “I’ve spent twenty thousand dollars on things way less impressive than a baby,” I said, trying to lighten the mood.

  “Devon, don’t,” she chastised, her eyes darting downward again. “You wanted to have this conversation, and I knew it was coming, but don’t joke around.”

  “Grace, look at me.” She didn’t, so I put a finger under her chin and brought her face up, looking her in the eyes. “I’m not joking, and I’m glad we’re talking about this. Listen,” I said, dropping my hand but shifting so both my hands were wrapped around her. “I’m not saying we’re going to get married next week, but I wouldn’t be with you if I didn’t see a future. It wouldn’t be fair to either of us, after what happened today, if we didn’t talk about it. I don’t want either of us to keep this up if it’s just going to end down the line because we didn’t talk about it.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying I want to know where your head’s at, what you might want in the future.”

  “I want to be a mom.”

  “What about a stepmom?” With one question I’d moved us from the hypothetical to the reality. The switch was bold and the air changed around us. The conversation was suddenly very serious.

  “I love Ruby and Jax, Devon. And if one day I got the chance to be their stepmother, I’d be honored. I’d love them and protect them, do anything I could for them. But….”

  “But you’d still want a child of your own.”

  She nodded and I could see the tears welling in her eyes.

  “Don’t cry, Gracie. There’s no reason to cry. If one day I get to be your husband, I’ll do anything I can to make that happen for you.”

  “I would never want you or the kids to think you weren’t enough for me, because I swear I would be happy with just us four, but if there’s a chance—ˮ

  “I want to take that chance with you.”

  We stared at each other for a moment, our breaths panting in and out, both trying to take in the enormity of what we’d said to each other. I’d meant to have a conversation just to clear the air, to get everything out on the table, but I hadn’t meant to talk seriously about marriage.

  Not that I hadn’t thought about it.

  I had.

  In passing.

  I’d thought about marrying Grace when she helped Jaxy read a particularly hard word the week before last.

  I’d thought about marrying Grace when she’d texted me to pick up some milk from the grocery store. I’d run out to rent a movie, and she and the kids decided to make cookies and didn’t think there was enough milk for everyone.

  I’d thought about marrying Grace when I watched her kiss Jaxy on the forehead as he lay asleep in his bed when she went in his room to tuck him in for the night.

  I’d thought about marrying Grace when I discovered she hummed 80s music to herself when she does the dishes.

  I’d thought about marrying Grace one night when we sat on the couch and she laughed at a stupid joke I’d made and pushed her hand through her hair at the same time.

  I’d thought about marrying Grace that afternoon when she brought me lunch.

  I’d thought about marrying Grace in that very moment, with her eyes staring back at mine, uncertainty clouding them, and I wanted nothing more than to reassure her I wasn’t playing some hypothetical game. Grace, on paper, was perfect. But Grace, pulled apart, examined, identified, classified, quantified, and studied was whatever came after that. Something unnamed, because no one, aside from me, had taken the time with her. But I would.

  My hand slid to the back of her neck, pulling her closer, and I kissed her. When she opened up for me, all the tension we’d built between us melted away. Our hands were both roaming wildly, her fingers threading through my hair, my hands gripping her waist, wanting nothing more than to feel her skin against mine.

  Without much thought, I stood up, taking her with me, and carried her through the house all the way back to my bedroom, never taking my mouth away from hers. When I slowly laid her down on the bed, she seemed to blossom beneath me; arms above her head, legs open allowing me to rest between them, and eyes eagerly taking me in. She was just as engrossed in me as I was in her.

  I wanted to tell her that I loved her, but I didn’t want her to feel as though I was saying it for the wrong reasons. But, God, I loved her. I loved her in ways I’d thought might never be possible again. I felt things for her, cared for her in a way that I’d thought might have died. There’d been times in the past three years where I’d questioned my capacity for love, my capability, wondering if I’d ever love someone that deeply again, so I was grateful to have Grace in my arms, to be given the chance to love—and feel loved—again.

  She hadn’t said it, and neither had I, but I felt
what I thought was love coming from her. I felt it in the way she kissed me, in the way her hands skimmed up my back, and in the way she looked at me with trust emblazoned in her eyes.

  “I’d never do anything to hurt you.” My words were whispered against the skin of her neck as my hands skimmed up her torso under her shirt. She gasped, her back bending, bringing her chest closer. My thumbs brushed the skin just below her breasts and I felt her shudder. “It’s been a long time for me, Grace. I’m going to need you to say something. Let me know you’re all right.”

  “I want this,” she said, arching her back further. “I want you, Devon.” Her hands smoothed up my arms and over my shoulders, pulling at my shirt. I leaned back to pull it off and watched as she slid her shirt up and over her head as well.

  My mouth immediately went to the swell of her breast, my hand cupping the other over her bra. Slowly, pieces of clothing came off and we explored each other’s bodies. We were in no hurry and I took every opportunity to memorize and taste every part of her.

  We were hot breaths, writhing bodies, and thumping heartbeats.

  “Devon,” she rasped, slowly coming down from a high. “I don’t want anything between us.”

  I stilled at her words, caught off guard. There were condoms just a few feet from us in my nightstand. I’d made a special trip to the drug store on my own to make the purchase, but hearing those words from her caused all the breath to leave my lungs. The idea that she would give me her body, trust me in that way, and leave nothing between us, it cracked something inside me open.

  “Grace,” I said, just before kissing her, “are you sure?”

  “I’m clean,” she said urgently. “Every test I’ve had since my marriage ended has been clear.” She bit her lip and brought her hand to my cheek. “I’ve never felt so connected to someone, and I don’t want anything between us. Ever.”

  “I’ve only been with one person that way.”

  “I trust you,” she said as her thumb stroked my cheek.

  “I trust you too.” My body was at its breaking point and wanted to find that high with her. “I want it too, Grace. I want to feel all of you, more than anything, but you have to know I didn’t anticipate this. I wasn’t expecting it at all.”

  “I know. I wasn’t either. But being with you, here, in your arms, with your skin against mine, putting a barrier between us would feel wrong. And I want to feel everything.” She said the words as her body moved closer, tilting toward me.

  I couldn’t hold back any longer. I leaned back down, kissing her as I entered her, both of us groaning at the connection.

  The next few hours were spent in each other’s arms, finding every way we could to make each other’s bodies sing. So many times I wanted to tell her how I felt, that I loved her, that I needed more than just her body, but her heart and her soul as well. I thought perhaps I saw the same war going on inside her eyes, so I spent the time, instead, using my body to say the words.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Devon

  Grace had been spending nights at my house for a while, but she had a tendency to not want the kids to see her there in the mornings. I understood, but I didn’t necessarily agree. I wanted the kids to get used to her being around, at any time of day. But I also didn’t want to make Grace uncomfortable. That was why I stood against the doorjamb and watched her car pull away from the curb, giving her a wave.

  She was fucking beautiful in the mornings and it was difficult to let her out of bed.

  We spent long nights making love, then she’d disappear as soon as the sun came up, and each time I wanted to hold her to me, to make her stay.

  Once her car was out of sight I shut the door and moved toward the kitchen to put my coffee cup in the sink.

  My eyes were caught by the picture of Olivia hanging in the living room.

  When we’d first moved to Florida, I was still trying to process Olivia’s death and even though I knew being close to my parents would help all of us, I didn’t want my kids to leave Olivia behind. I was afraid that moving from the home they’d had with her to a new one with no part of her would be upsetting. So I made sure Olivia was there, as much as she could be.

  My eyes wandered throughout the living room and I took in all the photos of her. Every photo was intentional. I’d put them there so Ruby and Jax could see her and even, perhaps, feel her there. And in the beginning, it worked. I saw her face all the time.

  But now, the photos were fading into the background. I only saw them if I looked for them. And I hadn’t been looking very often.

  I put my coffee cup in the sink and decided to make the kids a big breakfast, or as big as I could manage. Pancakes and eggs were about my limit. One day I needed to figure out how to cook bacon on the grill outside. My mind was working on the difficult thoughts, milling them around, breaking them down, as I put the pancake mix, eggs, and milk together in the bowl and started mixing.

  I made twenty pancakes and scrambled and cooked eight eggs, and my mind still hadn’t worked everything out.

  When the sounds of children waking and moving around started to filter in from down the hall, I knew it would only be a few minutes before Ruby and Jaxy made their way to the kitchen, led by their noses. Going all out, I set the table, ready to have a family breakfast.

  “Daddy,” Jaxy cried excitedly. “Did you make pancakes for breakfast?”

  “Sure did, bud.” I pulled his chair out for him and he practically dove for it, eyes trained on the giant stack of pancakes before him. “Eggs, too.”

  “Best dad ever!”

  “Is it somebody’s birthday?” Ruby asked, coming into the kitchen from the hallway, eyes on the food as well.

  “Nope. I was just up early and thought you guys could use a good breakfast.”

  Ruby shrugged and took her seat.

  We all filled our plates with food and dug in, the kids talking with full mouths, telling me what their plans were for the weekend. Most of the plans included video games and playing with the kids who lived down the street. Normal kid stuff. And it hurt my heart, but I had to bring up the topic that no kid should have to deal with.

  Placing my fork down, I laced my fingers together and pressed them against my lips, trying to find the right words.

  “Ruby, Jax, I have a question,” I started, my voice wavering just the slightest. I was nervous, but I didn’t want them to see that. “How would you guys feel about redecorating the living room?”

  Ruby’s eyes wandered to the room in question, and Jaxy simply shrugged, said, “Okay,” and then crammed another forkful of pancake into his mouth.

  “You mean, like, new paint and throw pillows?” Ruby asked, a little more suspicious than her brother.

  “We could paint,” I said, nodding, still struggling. “How would you guys feel if we took down some of the photos of your mom?” Both kids stilled and the room was silent. My breath stalled and my throat was dry.

  “Why do we have to take them down?” This came from Jaxy. He looked more confused than hurt, so I was glad about that. I could deal with confusion, but I didn’t want to hurt my kids.

  “We don’t have to take them down, bud. I was just looking at the living room this morning and noticed there are a lot of pictures of her. And that’s great. We can leave them up if you want, but I just thought maybe it was time to take some down.”

  He turned his head and looked in the living room for a moment, then turned back to me, expressionless. I had no idea what was going on in his head.

  “But then she’ll be gone.” This came from Ruby, and it was everything I’d hoped to avoid.

  “Sweetie, she’ll never be gone, not all the way. We still think about her and remember her, and celebrate her birthday, and we always will. And if you guys really want the pictures to stay up, we can leave them. It was just a thought.”

  “Do you think they bother Grace?”

  Ruby voiced the very thought that prompted the whole discussion. The last thing I wanted was the kids
to think Grace had anything to do with it. I in no way wanted them to associate the two ideas. So I shook my head.

  “No. I don’t think it bothers her at all.”

  That was the truth.

  But it bothered me.

  I loved Olivia and had she lived I was sure we would still be married and happy. But she didn’t. And the strangest part about being a widower was moving on and dating someone else when I never really fell out of love with my wife. In the beginning it felt a little bit wrong. But the thing about grieving is everything feels wrong, until it doesn’t. The only way to get past it is to keep moving forward.

  I was sure Grace would never ask me to take down photos of Olivia, but that’s one of the things I loved about her. I wouldn’t want to be with someone who would storm in and expect my kids and me to erase Olivia from our lives. Besides being unreasonable, it was impossible. But even though Grace would never ask it of me, it didn’t mean it shouldn’t happen.

  “Listen, guys, there are plenty of ways to keep your mother around. We can talk about her, talk about our memories, tell Grace all about her. I know Grace would love to hear about your mother and how wonderful she was.” The best part about that statement was that I knew it was true. Grace would feel honored if the children shared their stories of Olivia with her. “What if you each choose a photo from the living room and you can keep it in your bedroom. That way, we aren’t taking them down, but just moving them.”

  “We can pick any one we want?” Jaxy asked, perking up.

  “Yeah, bud. Any one you want.”

  He got up from his chair and ran into the living room. “I want the one where I’m just a baby and Mom is looking at me and she’s all sweaty.” He stepped up on to the edge of the fireplace and grabbed the photo off the mantel. “This one’s my favorite because Mommy always said it was the moment she fell in love with me.”