"I need you."

"You're an adult, Richard. You're-"

Suddenly, she realized the truth. It wasn't just feeding time and diaper duty that Richard didn't participate in. The events of the past weeks ran through her head, like one of the filmstrips they used to show in history class. He'd hardly even held Emma. He didn't go to her when he arrived home from work, didn't inquire about her day or her many firsts.

Kate brought a hand to her mouth. He hardly ever even looked at her.

Stunned, hurt beyond words, Kate turned and ran up the stairs to the nursery. She scooped up Emma and cradled her in her arms. The minute she did, the infant's cries lessened and she began rooting for a nipple.

"Here's Mommy," Kate murmured, carrying her to the rocker and settling into it. "Everything's okay now. Everything's going to be fine." She offered the bottle, and Emma latched on, sucking vigorously, gluttonously, as if she had been deprived of food for days instead of just hours.

After a moment, Kate looked up. Richard stood in the doorway watching her, his expression so lost it hurt her to look at him.

"What's going on with you, Richard? Don't you-" Tears choked her and she fought them back, fought to clear her throat. "Do you wish…do you regret us having…"

She couldn't say the words. She feared the answer.

He said them for her. "Do I regret us having adopted her?"

"Yes."

He looked away, then back. "How could I? It's just that…this is a huge adjustment. It's…" He took a deep breath. "Suddenly you're completely involved with the baby and I'm…I'm just hanging out here. Taking up space."

"Because you're not involved with the baby. You need to be. If you were, you'd feel differently. You'd feel a part of her and what's happening to our lives."

"I know." He passed a hand wearily across his face. "I've been so busy, with new cases at the firm, with the campaign." He swore softly. "I'm sorry, Kate. You know I don't take change well. And this one's been a doozy."

She laughed at that. It was true; he didn't enjoy change. She, on the other hand, welcomed it with open arms. He would come around. Of course he would.

"I suppose that's why God gave most couples nine months to adjust to impending parenthood."

He crossed to the rocker and knelt down beside it. "Thanks for being so great." He kissed the baby's head, then Kate's hand. "It's going to get better, love. I'm going to hire someone to help me with campaign work, I'm going to adjust." He lifted his face to hers. "Never stop loving me, okay? Not even when I'm behaving like a horse's ass."

She smiled through her tears. "Not even then."

Long after Emma had fallen asleep and Kate had gone to bed, Richard sat in the rocking chair in Emma's nursery, staring at the crib. The room was dark save for the soft glow of the night-light, and every so often the infant would stir and whimper, then fall silent again.

Richard passed a hand over his brow, weary and disheartened. Tonight, for Kate, he had gone through the motions with Emma. He had held and rocked her; he'd given her her bedtime bottle and even changed her diaper. Or tried, anyway; he had been all thumbs at that.

Kate had watched him, flushed with pleasure. With happiness and pride. Emma, too, had seemed pleased with his attention. She had kicked and gurgled and waved her arms. And when he had fed her, she had looked up at him with wide, trusting blue eyes.

With eyes, a gaze, designed to melt the coldest heart.

It hadn't melted his.

What the hell was wrong with him?

Richard stood and crossed to the crib. He gazed intently down at the child for long moments. His daughter, he reminded himself. His. And Kate's.

So, why didn't he feel anything but anger? Anything but resentment and failure?

Because he had always gotten everything he wanted.

Had always been the one in control, the one who made things happen. It had been the way of his life; was the way he expected his life to be.

Not this time. This time he hadn't gotten what he wanted, he hadn't been able to control the situation, mold it to his liking. He'd been told no. And he didn't like it. Not one damn bit.

Unable to look at the child a moment more, he left the nursery. After making certain Kate was still asleep, he retrieved the bottle of Jack Daniel's and a glass from the bar and went to his study. There, he poured himself a shot, tossed the drink back, then poured another.

Richard crossed to the French doors that led out to the first-floor gallery, pushed aside the drape and gazed out at the black night. He swore under his breath. At first he'd watched Kate and Emma with pleasure and affection. They made a charming picture; he had been warmed by Kate's obvious happiness.

But as the days and weeks had passed, he'd found himself becoming resentful and jealous. Of the time Kate devoted to Emma. Of her obvious and complete love for the child.

He had found himself wishing the baby would just… disappear. That he would wake up one morning and find that adopting Emma had been nothing but a disturbing dream and that he had his old life back. His wife back.

What did those thoughts say about him? About his character?

He pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes, disgusted with himself and his thoughts. With the answer.

He felt like a snake. A loser. A failure.

He could never tell Kate the truth. Not about this. It would devastate her. She wouldn't understand. She would never look at him the same way again.

He couldn't bear to lose her.

He dropped his hands. If only he felt like a father. If only he looked at Emma and got all gooey-eyed with love or puffed up with pride. If only he didn't look at her and remember his own failure. That he hadn't been able to impregnate Kate. That he hadn't been able to give his wife the one thing she'd wanted more than anything.

He shot blanks, he reminded himself bitterly. He was half a man.

Unable to bear his own thoughts a moment more, he opened the French door and stepped out onto the gallery. The midnight air was cold; it went straight to his head, clearing it. He breathed deeply, several times, releasing the pent-up breath in a rush.

It was the change in their lives causing him to feel unsettled and resentful, he told himself for the umpteenth time. The alteration of their life-styles. His feelings for Emma would deepen. Soften. They would. He was an adult, a good person; he could make that happen.

He would make it happen.

And when he did, everything would once again be as it should be between him and Kate. He would be in control of their lives.

And he and Kate would be happy again.

From her vantage point at the sidewalk café across the street, Julianna watched the employees pour out of Nicholson, Bedico, Chaney & Ryan. They laughed and joked with one another, some paired off, obviously heading for an after-work get-together, others called cheery good-nights as they hurried to their cars.

In the ten weeks since the baby had been born, Julianna had been busy. She had mastered Kate's smile and laugh, the cadence of her speech. She had practiced her walk until it had become second nature, had shopped for clothes and accessories Kate would choose, scouring the discount store racks until she found a few good, select items. She'd had her hair cut and styled to replicate Kate's. She had worked out until ready to drop with exhaustion, firming muscles gone slack during pregnancy.

Now she was ready for the next step, the one that would take her that much closer to her destiny.

That much closer to Richard.

Julianna's heart began to pound with anticipation. These past weeks, keeping her distance from him had been agony. Waiting for the right moment to meet him, using caution and reason when all she had wanted to do was throw both to the wind and be with him, had been the hardest thing she had ever done. She loved him beyond reason.