CHAPTER THIRTEEN
BYTHELIGHTof day, Jenna’s conscious noted, what had been clear and certain the night before was more muddled and murkier.
Whereas in the library, his heart and soul bared to her, Sebastian’s great fears and the wounded boy inside him were so obvious that she could not help but provide comfort and soothe. Upon waking up alone in his bed, however, she didn’t know if she had perhaps done more harm than good.
It had certainly felt that way when she’d drowsily reached for him, only to find him gone. Was he even now reconstructing the distance between them—undoing the progress they’d made toward finding ease in each other’s company and the capacity to raise a child together without being a couple?
Judging from the way she’d come to full alertness the instant she realized her fingers caressed empty sheets, she feared she knew the answer.
Urgency to find out for sure, to hunt him down and demand he account for his feelings, the urge now more important than ever, pushed her, but she refused to let it lead.
Instead, she was measured and slow in her movements as she slid out of bed and located her dress on the floor. Shrugging it on, she left the room sedately, careful not to let the door fall closed behind her.
If she walked into a new minefield, she was not going to go in rushed or frazzled.
But it was not a minefield she walked into.
Instead, it was breakfast. A buffet of light options greeted her. Watermelon and berries, toast, egg whites and pineapple—everything fresh and bright—released delicate scents, strong enough to entice, but not so strong as to make her stomach roil.
And Sebastian.
Though she couldn’t put her finger on it, something had changed in him since last night. It wasn’t his clothes, though those were as fresh and perfectly suited to him as ever. He wore a simple white T-shirt and slimline khaki pants. His feet were bare.
The intimacy of that, the scene not unlike ones she had witnessed between her own parents, broke the frayed threads of her resolve even as they attempted to rebraid themselves.
He smiled upon seeing her, the skin of his face easy in the expression, no longer tight and fighting to rein in and hide the attraction he felt for her.
He looked...happy.
“Good morning, Jenna. I made breakfast.” The little boy that had been hiding inside him, the wounded soul she’d glimpsed last night, was on full display and eager to please her.
And it had been absolutely worth it, she realized.
And she would stay with him—even after the baby was born.
Was it even a sacrifice if she had what she wanted for all intents and purposes, if not in name?
A fluttering sensation in her abdomen answered, her stomach flipping and settling, anchored if not as steady as she would have liked.
Their child would have a family, if not a traditional one. Sebastian would shine as a father, and if the only thing she had to sacrifice for all of it to be true was the title and role of wife, she would have gotten off easy.
Finding enough to root in the resolution, enough good to muddle through, she put on a bright smile and said, her voice oddly stretched, “Thanks. It looks wonderful and I’m starving.”