Page 43 of Sweet Home

“I’m okay,” she managed, crouching to hold Elizabeth gently by the shoulders, so she could look right into the little girl’s eyes. “I’m not sad. Sometimes grownups cry when they’re happy, or when they see something very beautiful, like your town tree lighting.”

“You like it?” Elizabeth asked worriedly. “You cried because you like it?”

“I love it,” Dulcie told her simply.

Suddenly Elizabeth was in her arms, hugging her so hard she almost fell over into the snow.

“Don’t go,” Elizabeth whispered fiercely.

Dulcie glanced up at West to see if he had heard that, or understood what the little one meant.

But the look of fierce possession in his eyes as he gazed down at her took her breath away.

“Let’s go home,” he said. “Are you ready, Elizabeth?”

Elizabeth nodded and let go of Dulcie, but clung to her hand. They walked in silence until they reached the truck, where West lifted Elizabeth in and buckled her into her car seat.

Dulcie got in the passenger side and stared out the window, watching the people by the big tree dissipate, all of them hugging and calling out to each other as they headed out of the park back to their cars.

Does West think I’m weird for crying?

It didn’t seem that way. It almost felt like her crying had made him like her more. In fact, it seemed like he hadn’t even been trying to hide the interest in his eyes when he’d gazed down at her as she held Elizabeth.

And he wasn’t doing anything to hide it now as he got into the driver’s seat, gazing into her eyes as if he were trying to read her soul to be satisfied that she was all right before nodding to himself and starting the truck.

The radio played softly as they drove through the beautiful, winter night, past the twinkling decorations on the houses with Christmas trees glowing in the windows, and into the moonlit farmland.

By the time West drove through the covered bridge and up the drive into the farm, Elizabeth was nodding off. When they arrived at the big red Victorian, he unbuckled her and carried her into the house.

“Start some water for tea?” he whispered to Dulcie before heading up the stairs with his daughter.

She did as she was told, grateful for something to do with her hands when her heart felt like it was under siege.

What’s wrong with me? Why does it hurtto see all the things I’ve always wanted, to finally know that they’re actually real?

But she knew the answer. It hurt because none of these things were hers, not to keep anyway.

She busied herself getting their tea ready. When the kettle was on the stove, she grabbed their tea bags, then went to the cupboard and pulled down two mugs—West’s favorite and the one she liked best.

I have a favorite mug at his house.

“You’re not just here for the winter,” West’s deep voice said suddenly.

She turned to find him standing in the threshold, that same wild look in his eyes as before. For a moment, she couldn’t even put together what he was saying.

“You want to stay,” he said, his voice breaking a little.

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. Shedidwant to stay, though she hadn’t realized it until tonight.

He moved to her then, slowly, the same way he had approached the frightened toddler in his office, like he was afraid he would spook her if he moved too fast.

Dulcie’s breath caught in her throat, but she held her ground, daring him, begging him to keep coming closer. His eyes moved to her lips and in that moment, she was sure that he was going to kiss her.

She had never really wanted to be kissed before, never wanted anything more than just to feel safe. But she found that she craved West’s touch now, so intensely that it almost frightened her.

Maybe it didn’t mean anything to him. Maybe he would even deny it had happened tomorrow. But shecouldn’t imagine not wanting to belong to West Lawrence, even if it was only for a moment.

“Dulcie,” he said softly.

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