“Yeah! I get to read her stories and play with her. But not change diapers.”

They laughed.

“Remember we talked about this, Ginny.” Cole smiled at the teenager over Mia’s head. “It may not be a girl. It could be a boy. And no diapers if you don’t want to.”

Jake lifted his glass. “Right there with you on that one, Ginny girl. Congrats, you two. Very cool.”

“I’m already planning a shower.” Lacey hugged Mia again. “With little booties and clothes and stuffed bears. I’m so happy for you!”

“It’s still early. We’re not announcing yet.” Mia looked at the others. “Just our good friends and family.”

Faith stayed where she was, unsure if it was appropriate to hug Mia, too. “That is wonderful news. Congratulations!”

Alec lifted his glass. “Ditto. Here’s to the end of quiet nights.”

Cole laughed. “Got that right. Worth it, though.” He looked down at Mia’s face with such love that Faith’s heart thumped wistfully in jealousy.

They chatted another hour, the time flying discussing babies and names. Faith sighed happily, staring at her new friends. This night was so perfect, she wished it could last. But Ginny’s eyes were drooping and Cole yawned.

“Can I help you clean up, Mia?” Faith offered.

“No, no. It’s your birthday. Besides, there’s not much.”

They’d gotten most of it already, so she nodded. “Thank you again, guys. This was unexpected. I had the best time.”

Mia waved her over and took the initiative, wrapping Faith in a hug. “I hope you had a great day.”

Her throat grew tight. “I did. Thank you. And congratulations again. I’m so happy for you.” Mia and Cole had had a rough go trying to claim their happy ending. She was so, so pleased for them to start a new family. “You ever need a babysitter, you know where to find me.”

Mia grinned. “Thank you. I may make you regret those words.”

Faith laughed. “Doubtful.”

Alec took her hand, and they made their way to the beach. He was being unusually quiet, even for him, and Faith started to worry that something was wrong. He guided her toward the house, but she tilted her chin toward the water.

“Let’s walk for a bit.”

Nodding, he followed and stood by her side in the surf, staring pensively out to sea. A muscle bunched in his jaw. His shoulders were tense.

She wondered if she’d done something wrong or if he regretted giving her the bracelet. Maybe their relationship was hitting too hard and too close to home after getting together with friends. It was hard to tell with him when he got like this, lost in his own head. For all she knew, he was plotting a book.

“Do you want to call it a night and head back to your house? You seem like you need to be alone.”

Slowly, he turned his head and pinned her with those gray-blue eyes. Even in the dark their color was intense. The wind captured his black hair, making him look like a pirate.

His gaze dropped to her mouth before sliding back up to her eyes. “I should say yes. But no, I don’t want to be alone. I want you.” He looked back out at the ocean, a war waging over his face.

At a loss, she stood next to him as worry ate her stomach raw. “Are you okay?”

He nodded absently, then shook his head. “All this talk of babies. Just . . . I don’t know. I wasn’t ready for it, I guess.” He grew silent for a moment. “I should get used to the idea. Lacey and Jake will want kids someday soon.”

Laura’s miscarriage and the pain in his voice when he’d told her what happened kept her silent, fishing for the right words. She only had more questions. “Do you want kids? Of your own someday?” That would mean letting go of Laura and moving on, something she didn’t think he’d be willing to do. Or able.

“I did, once.”

Her heart hurt for him. Guilt was a terrible thing to live with, even if misplaced. But he wasn’t ready to hear that, so she sighed and offered what little she could. “Let’s head inside. I still have a lot of thanking to do.”

He breathed a laugh and looked at her. His smile never reached his eyes. Leaning in, he whispered a kiss to her lips. “I wouldn’t say no to that.”

They walked over the dunes and into the house, neither saying anything as they made their way to her bedroom. Quietly, she closed the door.

The sound seemed to kick him into gear, because instantly his hands were at her waist, tugging her shirt up and over her head. His mouth sought hers, hungry and desperate. He fought to take his own shirt off, tossing it across the room. She did the same with her shorts. Panties. His pants. Briefs.

He sat at the edge of the mattress and pulled her to him, his large hands holding her hips and their bare skin connecting. His fingers dug into her flesh as his gaze skimmed over her breasts, her belly. Lower. He sucked in air through his nose, as if trying to center himself. But whatever had him distracted wasn’t easing. Moment by moment his eyes grew lost, until he almost wasn’t in the same room.

When he dropped his forehead between her breasts and whispered her name, she made a vow to do everything she could to help him through his grief. Laura’s accident and the loss of his baby may have been years ago, but he was just dealing with it now. It was entirely possible he was starting to develop stronger feelings for her in their still-new relationship, but didn’t know how to handle them, which only compounded his guilt.

She slid her fingers into his hair with one hand and drew her other arm around his back, holding him to her chest. His arms instantly came around her body and squeezed. Held. She stroked his shoulders, his back. Slow, methodical circles to ease his tension until he was ready to face her again.

A minute or two passed before the wetness of his tears dripped onto her skin, hot and heavy. Silent tears. She said nothing, not wanting to hurt his pride or make him ashamed to cry. He needed to let go. She was just glad she was here when he did. When Hope died, there had been no one to hold her and help her understand. No one to lean on to absorb the endless pain. Her parents were too torn up in their own grief to see anything else. At least, for Alec, she could be that crutch.

He didn’t sob or shake, but his body started to sag against hers and it was becoming harder to hold him. Without a word, she gently encouraged him to scoot back so he was no longer at the edge of the mattress and straddled his lap. She held his head on her shoulder, his face buried in her neck, as his arms banded around her back. He’d stopped crying, but his breathing was shallow as he worked out the rest.

“Christ. I’m sorry, Faith.” He nuzzled her neck and let out an uneven breath.

“You’ve been sorry long enough.”

His head lifted. Brows furrowed, he stared at her.

“So have I. Maybe we should both stop.”

He cupped her cheek and drew in a breath. “I wish I could.”

She did, too, but hopefully that would come in time. “You’re tired. It’s late. Lay down with me?”

“In a minute.” He pressed a kiss between her breasts. There was nothing sexual in the move, just tenderness. His finger traced her scar, low on her belly. “Is this from your surgery?”

“Yes.”

“How old were you? I’ll bet you weren’t scared for a second.”

The problem was, she’d never stopped being afraid.

She climbed in bed and lay back, opening her arms for him to join her. He followed and pulled the sheet over them before tucking her in the crook of his arm. They lay there in the dark as he ran his thumb over her shoulder. Her lids were heavy, her body exhausted, but she wanted to answer him.

“I was thirteen and I was scared. Terrified, actually.” She tilted her head up to look at him. “I’d given her bone marrow and several blood transfusions, but they were going to put me to sleep for surgery. All I could think about was who would help Hope if I didn’t wake up.”

“What did your parents say?”