In His Keeping (Slow Burn #2)

“You’re all I need. All I want,” she said simply. “Swear you’ll never leave me for someone who can give you children. Swear that to me and I’ll never ask you for more.”


He was genuinely shocked to his bones. He stared at her in absolute befuddlement, growing angrier by the second. Not at her. But at himself. Because if he’d made her feel as secure as she needed then she’d never question such a thing. That thought—fear—would never have entered her mind.

He framed her beautiful face in his hands and simply held her there, staring into the hypnotic brown of her soulful eyes.

“I only care that we can’t have children because I know how much it hurts you,” he said hoarsely. “I’d do anything at all to spare you this, Ginger. I’m so damn sorry I’ve failed you.”

She put a finger to his lips. “Shhh. Gavin, you haven’t failed me. You’ve given me child after child. It’s me who’s failed you, because I can’t carry them. My body rejects them.”

Her eyes closed as she said the last, and tears leaked silently down her cheeks.

“I couldn’t bear it if you ever grew to resent me for that,” she continued in a broken voice. “I never want you to look at me and see what I can’t give you. Something another woman could.”

He pulled her tightly into his arms, wrapping himself around her until she relaxed and melted against his body.

“There will never be another woman for me,” he said gruffly. “I’ll never want for more than you can give me. I swear it on my very life, Ginger. My heart and soul belong to you. You own them—and me. And I hope to hell I own yours as well.”

“I love you,” she whispered. “Now do me a favor and put the angel up for me, and our tree will be complete.”

But it wouldn’t be and they both knew it. A simple ornament lay nestled in a box where the other ornaments were stored. Baby’s First Christmas and the year engraved on the commemorative sterling silver baby spoon.

If all had gone as it should, she’d be delivering in a matter of days. A Christmas baby, she’d exclaimed in delight, when the doctor had given them the due date. Even now she would be swollen and heavy with his child, and he’d be rubbing her feet for her and holding her in his arms feeling their daughter kick and roll between them.

Ginger pulled away and carefully unwound the bubble wrap from the delicate porcelain angel tree topper. Using the step stool, Gavin reached up and carefully put the last decoration in place.

“It’s perfect,” she whispered, eyes bright with tears.

He kissed away every single tear and then pulled her into his side so they could stare at the tree she’d taken such painstaking measures to make beautiful. His wife loved Christmas. Their first holiday together would long stand out in Gavin’s memory because, before her, Christmas had been just another day for him. An inconvenience since most places were closed for the holidays and people were out of town or simply unavailable.

But when Ginger came into his life, she’d forever changed him. She’d laughingly dragged him out of his Connecticut home to get the biggest, most glorious live tree they could find.

That was yet another change she’d wrought. Though he owned a grand house with rolling acreage and complete privacy, he’d always hated to stay in it alone. He’d spent most of his time in his Manhattan apartment. Until Ginger.

Now it was rare that he ever stayed over in his apartment and if he did, he ensured she was there too. He hadn’t spent a night away from her since the very first time they’d made love. She’d turned his house in Connecticut into a . . . home. Warm, inviting, full of love and happiness.

“I love the tree,” he said honestly. “You did a wonderful job, just as you do every year.”

“Is it possible that I’ve turned the Grinch into Father Christmas?” she teased.

He chuckled. “What do you think? I didn’t personally spend an entire day trying my best to kill myself by attaching lights to every exposed area of the outside of the house because I hate the holiday.”

“You do hate the holiday. But you love me,” she said cheekily.

He laughed. “I’m getting better. And I don’t hate anything as long as you’re a part of it.”

Her entire expression softened and love warmed her eyes. She turned, tilting her head to receive his kiss when their doorbell rang.

They both frowned and Ginger drew away, her gaze flitting toward the foyer.

It was nearly 11 p.m. Who on earth would be at their door at this hour? For that matter, how would anyone have gotten through their security gate without their knowledge?

Gavin immediately grew serious. “You stay here and don’t move. I’ll see who it is.”

“But . . .” she protested.