Page 83 of Stepping Into Tomorrow

“Your husband didn’t help?” Nash’s voice was tinged in anger.

“Robert did when he was home. He was a great dad. But he was going to college full-time and working to support us. There just weren’t enough hours in the day.”

Nash reached out his hand. This time, his palm rested over hers, that thumb stroking those delicate circles on her sensitive flesh. It was in complete contrast to the roughness of the man. Who knew the hand could be an erogenous zone?

“I’ll be there for you. I won’t let you drown in the rising stress of a new baby. I may not know exactly what I’m doing, but one thing about the Emersons is they’re there for you whether you want them to be or not. You’ll have a whole village this time ’round.”

“I appreciate that more than you know.”

“You better stop thanking me. I might get a complex,” he teased.

Will approached their table and cleared away Nash’s empty plate. “Can I interest you in dessert? And did you want a to-go box?”

“I would like the box, thank you. But I have no room for dessert.”

“We’ll take something home. Can’t celebrate without dessert,” Nash insisted, his voice rising to be heard over the table next to them erupting in laughter.

Flutters thudded against her belly—their daughter letting her presence be known, no doubt enjoying the dinner Isabella just ate. Or maybe it was the thick rumble of her baby’s father’s voice that made Isabella’s whole body thrum.

Her libido had been on overdrive when she was pregnant with Eli too. But Robert had seemed less than enthusiastic. Isabella had killed herself trying to make her husband more attracted to her. She’d thought it was her body that had been the problem—and she’d been right. Just not in the way she’d assumed.

Those were some deep-seeded insecurities that liked to rear their ugly heads from time to time. But Nash didn’t look at her the way Robert had. No, Nash’s gaze threatened to devour her whole. And she might be just daring enough to let him.

37

NASH

Nash set their desserts in the fridge before grabbing a couple bottles of water. Bella sat on the couch, her dark hair cascading over the back of it, up off her neck. Her hands were spread over her growing belly. He thought she’d been a stunner the night they’d met, but now—with his child growing inside her—she looked like a goddess.

His breath hitched as he walked over to her, sat in the spot next to her, then handed Bella a water. Rain poured down outside, the pitter-patter hitting the roof in a heavy spray.

“Thanks.” She smiled, lighting him up inside.

A peace settled over him. They’d had amazing conversation. He hadn’t opened up like that with anyone since . . . “You’re welcome.”

She unscrewed the cap and took a few sips before setting it on the coffee table in front of them. Nash went ahead and guzzled half of his bottle, his head spinning. He hadn’t been this at ease, felt this good except when he smoked some of his sister’s weed. That was what Bella did to him—made him high on dreams of a brighter future.

“Tonight was fun.” She rested her hand on her belly.

“It was. I can’t remember the last time I did that,” he agreed.

“Oh.” She moved her palm over her stomach.

“Is something wrong?” Nash tensed.

She smiled and shook her head. “No. Your daughter must love the sound of your voice. She’s doing somersaults.”

She’s moving because of me?

“She’s kicking?”

“All through dinner, really.”

“Must have been the lobster,” he teased.

Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped opened. “Why, Nash Emerson, is that a joke?”

He blinked. “I joke.”

---