Page 39 of Returning for His Unknown Son

Soft sunlight filtered through the windows and two voices—trying to whisper and failing miserably—drifted in through the open bedroom door. She smiled, the panic receding at the sight of the vast expanse of the ocean through the French doors on the other side of the room.

She grabbed the pillow next to hers and buried her face in it. That musky, purely male scent of Christian’s had her gulping in deep breaths. They’d been at the island for ten days now and the best part—her favorite part—was that he hadn’t gone back to a different room or a different bed again after their nap on the jet, although he still struggled to sleep each night.

The door closed softly and she looked up.

Christian stood against the door, his sweatpants hanging dangerously low on those lean, tapered hips and wearing a loose T-shirt. “You okay?” he asked, his gaze taking in everything about her face. Neither did he miss that she was clutching his pillow.

“I thought I dreamed your return again,” she whispered, her mouth dry, her skin far too tight. “I hate that dream. It’s tortured me for years.”

“Go back to sleep,” he urged, taking a step into the room.

“Is Jayden okay?”

“He was hungry. He had a banana, I told him a story and he’s sleeping again. That good?”

“That’s perfect.”

This was pure luxury—being looked after like this. Not having to worry about Jayden. Being able to take a moment to simply catch her breath. Having Christian here to share all the small things with. She hadn’t realized how much she needed this break until Christian had forced the issue. “What story did you tell him?”

“He finally asked me again about why I fought with Bastien.”

She nodded, knowing how important it had been to Christian that Jayden come to him about that. While he’d forgotten his hurt the next morning and behaved normally, he’d not been receptive when they’d tried to mention it. And it had tormented Christian ever since—the very idea that his son might have retreated a little from him.

“I told him I was wrong to have hit Bastien, that I understand that things are confusing for him because of me suddenly showing up. That you and I are trying so hard to figure out how to be a family, too.”

Priya thought her heart might be melting in her chest right then.

A family—that’s what she wanted. That’s what she’d wanted for eight years. And she wanted it with Christian, no one else. The realization slammed into her, shaking her.

His blue eyes were like a beautiful abyss—taunting her, inviting her, hiding what she might find at the bottom.

But she’d already jumped. She’d jumped from the moment he’d reappeared. Her heart had already made the choice. Only her mind hadn’t caught up.

No fear coated her breaths. For the first time in her life, she didn’t care where she’d end up in all of this. Where she’d end up with him. She just wanted this intimacy with him so much that it left all her previous fear in ashes. She wanted this marriage. And she wanted this life with him, whatever label it fell under.

That simple yet groundbreaking truth had never been never clearer.

“I told him that Bastien and I had always been like that since we were kids. Always far too competitive, trying to outdo each other. I also tried to reassure him that I’d never force him to choose sides. That being a dad meant I’d have to earn his love. Not just demand it.”

“That was smart,” she murmured.

“I know it’s natural because he’s my son, but Jayden makes it easy to love him.”

Just like his dad, she wanted to say.Just like you, Christian.

Even when he’d been nothing more than an acquaintance who’d pushed her and needled her, when he’d been a protector who’d shared her grief with her, when he’d been a friend who’d dragged her back to life, when he’d been a lover who’d given her so much she couldn’t even verbalize it—she realized it had always been easy to love Christian.

“He does,” she said, clearing her throat, hoping he’d put her husky voice down to sleep. “But let’s give credit where it’s due. You’re good at this, Christian.”

“At what?”

“At being a father. At being a friend to a seven-year-old boy.” And at being a partner, a husband, even, she wanted to say. But she had a feeling he wasn’t ready for that truth yet.

He stood there, his thighs just touching the high bed, watching her, studying her.

Something niggled at the back of her mind. It had been there last night, too. A missed appointment? An important meeting? Reaching for her watch on the nightstand, she stared at its bold face. Her heart thudded in her chest. “Christian?”

“Yes?”

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