Squeezing my hand, his answer was sincere. “All the time in the world.”
Well, if that isn’t the truth.
Shyly, I mused, “Where would I even begin?”
Logical to a fault, he offered, “Perhaps oldest to youngest?”
“Good plan,” I praised. “The oldest is Amelia, and she fits the role so well. She’s protective of her mom and younger siblings, probably something she learned from Liam. There must be a gene in there somewhere they share. She’s also very thoughtful. She can assess and analyze a situation before taking action or finding the words she wants to say. I can say with certainty she doesnotget that from me.”
Preston laughed at my attempt at self-deprecation. “She seemed so mature. It’s incredible how much she’s grown up.”
“She’ll be a teenager before we know it,” I lamented. “Then, there’s Jameson.”
“His striking resemblance to Leo is uncanny.”
A chill ran down my spine at the mention of my oldest brother. He had done unspeakable things to Natalie and those children, and I was beyond grateful to my parents for ensuring he couldn’t ruin their newfound happiness. Shaking off the sense of foreboding I felt, my tone was sharper than intended in my response, “That’s where the similarities end.” Preston’s eyes widened, but he kept quiet, allowing me to continue. “As you know, he was born prematurely, so it’s nothing short of a miracle that he’s a healthy, strong little boy with no lingering health issues. He’s the sensitive one. The divorce was more difficult for him than the others, and he had to work through some of his anger. He has blossomed now that there’s a permanent father figure in his life.”
“I couldn’t help but notice little Beau is his stepfather’s shadow,” I mused.
“Jaxon is the only father Beau’s ever known. He was a baby when they left, so he doesn’t have any of the baggage the other two carry from their life here. He’s this incredible, carefree boy, and he loves so freely.”
“And the baby?”
“Who, Charlie?” Preston nodded, so I touched on Natalie’s youngest. “Charlie came along, and she healed that family. She might not be my niece by blood, but damn if Liam and I don’t love her with our whole hearts. She might be young, but her personality shines through, and I can’t wait until she gets older. She doesn’t take crap from anybody, and I’m willing to bet she will give her older brothers a run for their money.”
“Are you sure you two aren’t related?” Preston needled.
“Charlie might be a classic case of nature versus nurture. She’s fortunate to have a plethora of strong female role models. The world better watch out.”
“Consider me warned.”
“Smart man.” Preston usually opened our line of questioning, but sometimes, I kept it going by turning it around on him. This conversation lent itself to asking about something I had been curious about for a while now. “That day in the NICU,” I started, and just like that, the air in the room changed from joking to more serious. “Did you mean what you said? That you wanted three or four kids?”
He searched my eyes, likely for cues as to which way to answer. I schooled my features like I’d been conditioned to do my whole life, not giving him any inclination of my feelings on the matter.
Eventually, he answered, “Yeah. I mean, I never really gave much thought to settling down, but in the back of my mind, I could picture having kids someday.” Chuckling to himself, he added, “I know I’m not getting any younger, but I figured I was a guy, and our clocks don’t tick quite the same way as the girls’.”
Teasing him as he’d done to me, I quipped, “Oh, shoot. Did I ruin your dreams of geriatric fatherhood?”
Swinging an arm before his chest, he snapped his fingers. “Darn you, Lucy Remington. But seriously, though, I’m open to whatever you might want.” Pausing, he thought it over. “Is that something you want? Do you want to have kids at all?”
Whoa, this got deep really fast, but I started the conversation, so I had to hold up my end. Pushing him off only slightly, I countered, “Why would you ask that?”
“Come on, Luce.” Well, damn, if him giving me a nickname didn’t give me butterflies. “I’ve seen how you reacted whenever someone brought up the idea of babies. You flipped out. Hell, I used it to my advantage. It’s not something I’m particularly proud of.”
He was right—I had gone off the deep end more than once at the mention of having a baby, and I was ashamed to say that the idea of having said babies with Preston in particular fueled those overreactions.
Diving into that part of it wouldn’t do us any good, so I focused on the other reasons. “Is it too much to ask that I get to decide when I put my body through the trauma of a pregnancy and birth?”
Preston tilted his head. “Trauma?”
I scoffed. “That is such a man thing to say. You may have read the baby books, but theoretical knowledge can’t compare with experiencing the reality. Why don’t you call up your sister-in-law and ask her to describe every horrifying thing that happens to a woman’s body during the nine months of pregnancy in vivid detail? That’s before you have your body split in two forcing a human being the size of a watermelon out the hole the size of a lemon, leaving a wound on the inside the size of a luncheon plate that takes six weeks to fully heal. It’s practically barbaric that some countries don’t provide paid leave for new mothers.”
Eyes wide, Preston was sufficiently chastised and mildly horrified, uttering, “Point taken.”
“That’s only the beginning. Parenthood is for life. It’s not something to jump into without careful thought and consideration. You are responsible for another person’s emotional and physical well-being, education, and safety.”
“Is that a no, then?” Preston hedged.
