Page 51 of An Heir Made In Hawaii (Hot Winter Escapes)

“Hi,” he replied, giving her hand a gentle squeeze.

“Have the doctors been back in yet?”

“No. But a nurse came by. The tests have continued to show everything as normal.” He gave her hand another squeeze. “The baby’s okay.”

Tears pooled in her eyes and ripped open his chest.

“Thank you for coming. For bringing me here and staying.”

“You don’t need to thank me,” he responded curtly.

She blinked and he inwardly cursed his sharp tone.

“I’m leaving.” He sucked in a deep breath. “Once you’re settled back at the inn, I have to take a trip to London.”

A look of sadness passed across her face, one that gutted him. He wanted nothing more than to stay with her, to take her back to his hotel and tuck her into his bed, lie beside her all night.

“I won’t be back for some time.”

She frowned. “For how long?”

“At least a few months.”

Her mouth dropped open. “Months?”

“I’ve been thinking about what you said.” Slowly, he released her fingers and pulled back his hand. “You and the baby do deserve more. You deserve someone who can care about you more than I can, who can experience their emotions and not hold back. I’m not the kind of man who can commit to you that way.”

He watched what little color was in her cheeks drain away.

“What are you saying?” she whispered.

“I still want to be involved in the child’s life. But the majority of that involvement should be from a distance. I’m not good at getting emotionally involved. You told me your biggest dream was to have a family. The kind of family that you’d have with me wouldn’t be the kind that made you happy. It would be one where you’re constantly wondering if you’re at fault, if there’s somewhere else I’d rather be, if I’m actually going to stick around.”

Her face twisted into something that looked far too much like pity.

“Is this about you,” she asked gently, “or is this about your parents and what happened after your brother died?”

His body tensed. “A lot of it, yes. But it made me who I am today. I remember what it was like for those years after David died. How stilted everything was in the house. How I wondered if I was ever going to be enough, if we would ever be happy again.” He ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “I’m not going to put you through that. I certainly will not put an innocent child through it just because I can’t heal from my past.”

Her lips parted. He stood before she could say anything else, before she could tempt him to stay, to put everything at risk once more and possibly fail.

“I’ve made my decision, Anika. I’ll be in touch about financial arrangements and visitation.”

She absently plucked at the hospital blanket draped over her legs. Slowly, she raised her gaze to his. Pain radiated from her eyes and stabbed straight into his heart.

“I understand.”

It would be so much easier if she didn’t understand. If she were like the other women in his life who would have been angry or frustrated or given him a big show of tears. But that wasn’t Anika. It was one of the many things that he liked and appreciated about her—how much she cared for others, including him.

“In light of that, I agree this is for the best. And you’re right.” Her hand settled on her stomach. Regret washed through him that he hadn’t touched her more, hadn’t whispered to the tiny swell of her belly, hadn’t had the guts to indulge her just once and talk about details like names and nursery colors. “The baby and I do both deserve someone who will be fully present, not just physically but emotionally.” Her voice grew heavy. “I never thought I’d say this. But I wish it could have been you.”

He hadn’t thought he could hurt anymore. He’d been wrong. Grief dug its talons into his skin, clasped his heart and twisted. It was like David in some way, seeing her lie right in front of him yet just out of reach in this damned hospital bed. Yet it was different, worse, because this time he knew exactly who was to blame.

“I have really enjoyed getting to know you these past couple of months.” Her small smile nearly killed him. “You’re far much more than I gave you credit for.”

“As are you, Anika. Our...the baby is lucky to have you as its mother.” He swallowed past the tightness in his throat. “If you’re comfortable, I would still appreciate seeing ultrasound photos. And a text every now and then. Knowing how you’re doing.”

She nodded once, the movement stilted.

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