Page 95 of Tattered Edges

He’d caught me.

“Babe,” I murmured against his skin. “I love you, too.”

His arms held me tighter then, pulling me closer, my toes barely reaching the floor.

“Right. Now that all our cards are on the table, can I come in?”

I popped my head up, only then realizing we were still standing in front of my opened door. When my eyes found his, Rory quirked a playfully inquisitive eyebrow at me, and I couldn’t help but laugh.

“Yes, please.”

He kissed me, then let me go and moved to close the door.

“How about I make you a cuppa? Do you have tea?”

I did, in fact, have some tea. I put the kettle on, and while we waited for the water to boil, I slipped into the powder room and splashed a bit of water on my face. Catching a glimpse of my reflection, I stared back at me for a moment and thought about my mother.

She’d had a day similar to the one I was having.

I wondered if she panicked.

Did she cry? Was she scared?

I knew she was all alone.

She never offered Sawyer the chance to help her. He wasn’t there to love her through it.

I couldn’t imagine, and I was so grateful to know I wasn’t alone.

The kettle whistled, and I made my way back to the kitchen.

As Rory poured the steaming hot liquid over the tea sachet in my mug, I pressed myself against his back, circling my arms around his middle, and splaying my hands open across his chest.

“Are you okay?” he asked, covering one of my hands with one of his.

I nodded. “Better.”

He finished my cup of tea, and then we went into the living room and sat together on the couch. I faced him, folding my legs beneath me before bringing my tea to my lips.

“I know we’ve got loads to discuss, but I have no idea where to begin,” he admitted.

I did.

“It’s a little late to ask—but do you want kids?”

“Yes is the simple answer. The King’s Steed has been in my family for generations. If I don’t have children, I’ll have no one to pass it down to. Not that I intend to force it on anyone, but you know what I mean.”

Toying with the string of my tea bag, I pressed, “And the complicated answer?”

“I’d already resigned myself to not having any.”

“Why?”

“I’ve told you before. Since Henry died, I’ve chosen the pub and its success over everything else. I was told that made me selfish—and I believed it. I embraced it. If it was one or the other, there was no choice. The pub means everything to me.”

I knew this to be true. I remembered how his last relationship ended, and I still maintained I would never ask him to choose. People juggled jobs and families all the time. Granted, I didn’t know what that sort of life looked like—but Rory did.

“Your grandpa had both,” I pointed out.

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