“Is she awake?” my father asked.
“I am, and I have something I want to tell you guys,” I said.
“Delilah, maybe we should hold off on this,” Preston said.
“I’ve got this,” I reassured him.
“What is it?” my mother asked. “What do you need?”
“I need you guys to go home,” I said.
I could see the hurt in my mother’s features as tears welled in her eyes. She sought comfort in the arms of my father, but they didn’t fight it. I told them that we would call them when they could come in and see the kids, just like we told them in the beginning. We would fly them out so they could be here and everything would be okay.
“You can’t just swoop in here unannounced, though,” I said.
“We were worried about you, sweetie,” my mother said.
“Then that’s what a phone call is for. I’m not sure what any of this is about, and I’m too tired to figure it out. But whatever has gotten into you and Dad needs to go home with you and Dad. I’ve got too much to focus on to try and decipher why you were okay with Preston that weekend wevisited but are now throwing him nasty looks,” I said.
That day in the hospital was hard. It was hard watching my parents leave with unresolved issues between all of us, but it had to happen. They couldn’t spring stuff like this on us, and we had to put a stop to it now. If they became those kinds of grandparents, it would drive us wild and really rift our relationship.
And I didn’t want that to happen to anyone.
As the weeks of bedrest passed by, I looked at Preston with a bit more kindness. He spent even more time away from work and started conferencing in on the meetings instead of going in. He kept sticking to my wishes of not wanting to tell anyone in the office, even though I saw how much it hurt him. He wanted to tell people. He wanted to be known as the father of these children. And it was that knowledge that had obliterated our hands-off policy I had instilled.
I was falling in love with Preston, and there was nothing I could do about it.
My heart yearned for him whenever I was in bed at night. Preston had been the perfect gentleman, staying until I fell asleep then slipping off to one of the guest bedrooms. But when I woke up in the middle of the night, I longed for him to be there. My body and my soul reached out for him, wanting to feel his arms around my body.
The one thing I wanted to prevent was the one thing that happened, and I didn’t know what to do. My heart wanted to be with Preston, but my soul wanted us to be a family. I wanted to wake up to him and cook breakfast for him. I want
ed to raise these children with him and take family vacations with him. I wanted all of it…with him.
How the hell was I supposed to tell him that?
A few days before my planned cesarean section, I had a rough night. I woke up thirsty and I called out for Preston, begging for a bottle of water for my parched mouth. He strode into the room with his chest puffed out and his eyes on high-alert, his hands rubbing my body as I chugged the water down.
Then he fell asleep in the corner of the room, never once leaving my side.
I laid there and watched him, his strong chest rising up and down. His long, toned legs were stretched out, crossed at the ankle and propped up on the edge of the bed. I couldn’t take my eyes off him as I laid there that night, taking him all in as the moonlight streamed through the window.
But then, he started murmuring to himself.
“Mmm…Lilah…”
My ears perked up at the sound of what I thought was my name.
“Good…Lilah…”
Lilah? Was that supposed to be me?
“Love…Lilah.”
I furrowed my brow as I propped myself up in bed.
“Love you…Lilah…”
Did he just say he loved me? No, he couldn’t have said that. But then, it happened again. Clear as the daytime sky and unavoidable in its interpretation.