More Than One Night

chapter THIRTEEN



CHARLIE WALKED TO her car in a daze. Once, during training, she’d been standing too close when a mortar shell had exploded. She hadn’t been injured, but for a whole day afterward her ears had rung and she’d walked around in a haze.

That was how she felt now. Her ears weren’t ringing, but she felt numb. Utterly numb.

For weeks she’d been telling herself that she was smart and pragmatic. She’d even rejected Rhys when he’d tried to get closer. She’d told herself he was charming, but that she was strong, that she could resist his appeal because there was so much at stake—The Bean, her and Rhys’s relationship as coparents, her own continuing happiness.

And yet she’d fallen in love with him anyway.

It had taken seeing him with another woman to alert her to her own foolishness. For the rest of her life she would remember those few seconds when she’d mounted the last step from the beach and seen them walking together, smiles on their faces.

Of course, a voice had said in her mind. Of course he’s seeing someone else.

Of course.

But the rest of her had been reeling. Primitive, instinctive jealousy had burned through her like acid, closely followed by a searing sense of betrayal. She’d said no to Rhys, held him at arm’s length, but deep in her heart she’d allowed herself to imagine something different. To hope. Stupidly, she’d thought she had time, that he would wait—as though any man had ever waited for Charlie Long, let alone a man like Rhys.

Her car was up ahead. She broke into a run, suddenly desperate to be somewhere small and private. Somewhere safe. She yanked the door open and scrambled in. Then she pressed her hands to her face in a futile, ridiculous attempt to contain the grief and hurt rising inside her.

She’d done all the right things. She’d abandoned Rhys’s bed after their one night. She hadn’t lingered or indulged the hopeful idiot inside herself by leaving her contact details. She’d left, a clean break. When she’d discovered the pregnancy, she’d had no choice but to contact him, but even then she’d been so careful. She’d warned herself, she’d kept a close, tight watch on herself.

And yet she had still wound up here, hunched over her steering wheel, trying to contain the pain of a loss that felt more profound and encompassing than anything she’d experienced in her life before.

She pressed her hands harder against her face, digging her fingers into her scalp, but there was no holding back the tide of emotion. Her breathing choppy, she started to sob, a potent mix of anger and grief sending scalding tears down her cheeks.

In her mind’s eye she kept seeing them—seeing her—walking over. Charlie didn’t need to ask herself why Rhys had chosen the other woman. She had eyes in her head, she could see. And no doubt Heather of the gorgeous body and face had never pushed Rhys away or been prickly or difficult. No doubt Rhys had chosen to be with her of his own free will, rather than being forced into something he didn’t want by a faulty piece of latex that had changed his life and taken away his choices.

A horn sounded in the distance and Charlie became aware that while her car offered the illusion of privacy, the reality was far different. Any second now Rhys and Heather might walk past. The thought of them seeing her sobbing had her sliding the key into the ignition and blinking away her tears and buckling her seat belt. Using her sleeve to mop her cheeks, she took a deep breath and pulled out into traffic. All the way across town she had only one goal in mind—to get home where she could hide her shame and hurt and sadness from the world.

That was what she did, after all. Put a brave face on it, play the stoic, then let her pain off the leash when she was alone. Her father had been deeply uncomfortable around displays of emotion and so Charlie had waited until she was alone and private in her bed at night to allow her true feelings to surface. From the age of five, she had ceased to cry in front of him. It had become a point of honor for her, and eventually it had become the habit of a lifetime. The discipline of a lifetime.

She worked hard to keep her mind blank as she drove. She flicked on the radio and forced herself to listen to the news report. She studied the cars ahead and in the rearview mirror as assiduously as if she were taking her driving test. Then she turned onto her street and saw her building ahead and the wall she’d constructed inside herself crumbled and she started to cry again. She parked and took the stairs two at a time. Then she was inside her apartment, and she was safe.

She wrapped her arms around herself as she sank onto the edge of the couch, then after a few seconds stood again. She didn’t know where to put herself. Her chest ached with misery, her eyes burned. She walked into the bedroom and kicked off her sneakers and crawled beneath the quilt. She curled tightly into herself and closed her eyes, wanting to block everything out. Wanting not to feel.

Not to love.

I wish I’d never met you, she told Rhys in her head. I wish I’d never let Gina talk me into doing that lap of Café Sydney. I wish I’d never suggested we go to the bar. I wish I’d taken that taxi home with Gina instead of going home with you. I wish our bodies and biology hadn’t betrayed us. God, how I wish…

Even as she thought it, her hand slid down to cover the barely-there bump of the baby, a silent apology for wishing her out of existence. It wasn’t The Bean’s fault that things were so screwed up.

After a while the tears stopped and all that was left was a pervading sense of her own stupidity and naiveté. She’d been fretting over their near kiss in the park, even though she’d told herself it was nothing—told him it was nothing, too. She’d rushed to Gina’s and dissected the whole thing and allowed Gina to talk her into hoping. Into believing. After thirty-two years of caution, she’d been ready to give it a shot. To lay it on the line and to believe that maybe she had got it wrong all these years.

And all along Rhys had been seeing another woman. Not just any woman, either. A woman with shampoo-commercial hair and hot-summer-day sky-blue eyes and a body that belonged on a Sports Illustrated cover.

They looked good together. A study in light and dark. They looked like a match set.

Charlie opened her eyes and stared at the wall. She felt empty. No hope, no plans, no dreams. A passing feeling, she knew—people didn’t die of broken hearts, after all. And she was tough. She’d made herself tough. She might be indulging herself right now, but soon she would get up and she would soldier on. That was what she did. It was what she’d always done. It was what she’d continue to do, especially because it wasn’t only herself she had to fight for now. The Bean deserved better.

So Charlie would get over this thing with Rhys. She would move past it. Eventually, she might even consider it good that the situation had come to a head and her own self-deception had been dragged into the light. Better to be done with it, stare it in the eye, than to go on pretending and fooling herself. A quick, surgical strike—painful but fast—then on to recovery.

She closed her eyes again. Maybe in a few days or weeks she would get to that place. But not yet. She pulled the quilt higher over her shoulders and burrowed into the pillow. Sleep seemed like a great option right now. A bit of peace. A respite.

The phone rang, the sound echoing through the apartment from the study. Charlie didn’t move. Instead, she listened until it stopped.

Whoever it was could leave a message, call back later. She wasn’t ready to face the world yet.

Barely two minutes later, a knock sounded on her door. Her eyes popped open and she sat up.

There weren’t many options: Gina or Rhys. Her gut squeezed nervously.

She knew who it was. And she didn’t want to see him.

“Charlie. I know you’re in there.”

Rhys’s voice echoed down the hallway. He started to knock again almost immediately, a continuous, persistent pounding. Any thought she had of ignoring him in the hope that he’d go away went out the window. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood. Her face felt stiff from her tears. She walked toward the door and peered through the spy hole. All she could see was Rhys’s shoulder.

“Charlie. I’m not leaving till I’ve spoken to you,” Rhys yelled.

Anger surged inside her. This was her place, her space. She’d come here to be safe. To think and consider and to recover from what had happened today. He had no right to follow her here and demand entrance so he could assuage his conscience. Because she had no doubt that was what this was about. He’d said as much to her at the beach, hadn’t he? I’m sorry. I should have told you.

She didn’t want his apology or his pity. She didn’t want anything from him except what he owed their baby. Which was the way it should have been right from the start, before she’d allowed herself to believe in fairy tales.

Still, there was no time like the present to set things straight. Chin high, she twisted the lock open.





RHYS FELT THE DOOR give beneath his fist, then Charlie was standing there, her face pale and tear blotched, arms wrapped tightly across her chest.

“I do have neighbors, you know,” she said.

“I want to explain.”

“You don’t need to explain anything to me.”

She was very calm. Very controlled. But behind the blankness in her eyes he knew she was hurting. That he’d hurt her.

“Yes, I do, Charlie.”

“It’s none of my business. We don’t own each other. We made a baby together. That’s the end of our mutual obligation.”

“What you saw today was a first date. And I went on it only because I was trying to get you out of my head.”

Her chin jerked back a little.

“Not very noble, I know,” he said. “But there it is. I was pissed after the park the other day and I ran into Heather and… It was a mistake, Charlie. A stupid, dumb mistake.”

She lifted a shoulder in a fair imitation of an unconcerned shrug. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to say to that.”

He took a step closer, crossing the threshold. Her chin came up even higher, but she held her ground.

“How about ‘Rhys, I can’t get you out of my head, either’?”

She started shaking her head before he’d even finished speaking. But he hadn’t expected this to be easy. Charlie would never give up her secrets without a fight.

“Does that mean you don’t think about me?”

She stared at him then her gaze dropped to his shoulder. “It means I don’t see the point of this conversation.”

“That’s what you said at the park, too.” He took another step toward her. This time she retreated. “Tell me why we shouldn’t talk about our feelings for each other, Charlie. Tell me why that’s pointless.”

For the first time he saw emotion behind the mask—surprise, swiftly followed by denial.

“Because of the baby. Because things are complicated enough.”

“I don’t care.”

She seemed startled by his instant rebuttal.

“I used to think that stuff was important, Charlie, but it isn’t. You’re important—very important—to me. I want you to be happy. I want to make you happy.”

She blinked, as though she couldn’t comprehend what he’d said. She looked so lost, so bewildered that he couldn’t stop himself from reaching for her.

“Charlie, I’m sorry. You have no idea how much.” He tried to draw her into his arms, but she placed a hand on his chest, her elbow locked straight to keep him at a distance.

“This is a bad idea.”

“I used to think so, but I’m starting to think it might be the best idea I’ve ever had.”

“What about when things go wrong?”

“What if they don’t? What if they go right?”

Her breath left her on a shuddery exhale and for a moment—the barest fraction of a second—there was so much yearning in her eyes it broke his heart. She opened her mouth to say something—to reject him again, no doubt—but he spoke over her.

“Don’t you ever get sick of fighting, Charlie?”

He saw the answer in her eyes. He slid his hand from the nape of her neck to the curve of her jaw.

“You don’t need to fight me. I swear it.”

She closed her eyes. The arm keeping him at bay relaxed. He didn’t wait for a second invitation. He pulled her close and kissed her the way he’d been wanting to for weeks. There was the smallest of hesitations then she kissed him back, her body straining toward his almost desperately. She tasted of salty tears and need and he tightened his arms around her, wanting to take away the pain he’d caused her, needing to make things right between them. He tried to slow the kiss, to control it, but Charlie tugged his shirt from his jeans, smoothing her hands up his chest, her hips pressing against his urgently, provocatively.

Everything else fell away as he walked forward until her back hit the wall. There was only him, and her. Still devouring her mouth, he slid a hand onto her breast, his thumb finding her already-hard nipple unerringly. Her fingers dug into his chest as he pinched her then soothed her. His other hand moved to cup her backside, resting her more snugly against his hips. They rocked together, savoring the torturous friction. He released her backside and slid his hand between her legs. She arched against his palm as he stroked her through her yoga pants. He could feel how hot she was, how wet, and he groaned into her mouth.

“Charlie,” he said, reveling in the way she trembled in response.

It was the way he’d remembered—only better, because he knew her now, and he understood how precious she was. How strong and brave.

Suddenly Charlie wrenched her mouth from his. She was panting, her brown eyes dilated as she looked at him.

“I need you. I need you so badly,” she said, her voice a low husk.

He spotted what he hoped was her bedroom doorway. “Come on.” He urged her ahead of him.

His gaze slid to her round, firm backside as he followed her. He yanked his polo shirt over his head and let it fall to the ground, his hands dropping to the buckle on his belt. He had it open and was working on the stud of his jeans when he entered her bedroom.

Charlie tugged off her long-sleeved T-shirt, revealing full, creamy breasts cupped in white lace. She reached for the rear clasp, but he beat her to it, slipping it free and then cupping the warm, heavy weight of her in his hands. She pressed her backside against his erection, her head dropping against his chest as he teased and soothed her breasts.

“You’re so damn hot,” he whispered in her ear. “I’ve been dreaming about you for weeks, Charlie.”

She slipped a hand between their bodies to grip him through his jeans. She stroked her hand up and down the hardened length of him. He pressed forward, his hands tightening on her breasts. After a torturous minute, she released him and stuck her thumbs into the waistband of her pants, pushing them down. He forced himself to take a step away and felt himself get even harder as she removed her panties, bending to offer him a perfect view of her ass.

She glanced over her shoulder, her ponytail swishing against her pale skin, her eyes alight with heated desire. She stepped forward and crawled onto the bed, offering him an even better view. He realized he was standing like a dodo, his pants half undone. He dragged his zipper down, shoving off his jeans and boxers. Seconds later he followed Charlie onto the bed, stalking her across the mattress. She rolled onto her back and welcomed him as he covered her body with his.

“I need you inside me,” she said against his mouth as he kissed her.

She hooked a leg around his hips and urged him closer. He found her entrance, and she arched her hips at the same time that he thrust inside her. He closed his eyes as he slid home—the rightness of it, her heat, her scent, the feel of her skin against his. He’d needed this, craved this for so long, and he hadn’t realized, hadn’t understood.

“Charlie,” he whispered against her skin as he started to move. “You drive me crazy.”

She dug her hands into his backside, urging him to go harder, faster. She met him thrust for thrust, her need feeding his, until finally she cried out, her body shuddering around his, her face distorting with pleasure-pain. She pushed him over the top into his own climax and for precious seconds he forgot everything except the rush of sensation bombarding his body and mind.

Only afterward did he notice they were both panting raggedly, their bodies slick with sweat, and—more important—that he hadn’t used a condom. Then he remembered the baby—crazy, but she’d slipped his mind in his mad rush to be a part of Charlie again—and he let his head drop to Charlie’s shoulder.

After a minute or two she stirred beneath him. He rolled to one side.

“Did I squash you? Sorry.” He brushed a damp strand of hair from her forehead, admiring the purity of her skin, the fullness of her mouth.

She looked at him and he could see the doubts beginning to crowd behind her eyes again.

“You need to stop thinking for a moment,” he said.

“I can’t.”

“Yes, you can.” He curled his body against hers, one arm wrapped across her waist, one leg thrown over hers, his face pressed into her neck. “Just breathe. And think about how good this feels. How right.”

Despite his words, he felt the tension returning to her body, degree by degree.

“It’s going to be okay, Charlie.” He pressed a kiss to her neck.

“I need to know what happens next.”

“We date,” he said simply. “We see what happens. The way normal couples do.”

“But what if it doesn’t work out?”

“What if it does?” Because he was holding her, he felt the ripple of tension that washed through her at his words. He drew back a little so he could look into her eyes.

“This is real, Charlie,” he said. “Let’s trust it. Have some faith in it.”

She swallowed. “I don’t know how to do that.”

“We’ll do it together.”

He swept a hand down her body, resting his palm against her sternum before sliding it to the small, soft swell that was their baby. In the heat of the moment he’d forgotten about The Bean—it had been all about Charlie, only Charlie—but now he mapped the gentle slope, brushing his palm over her warm skin. He’d wanted to touch her this way ever since the scan. Wanted to feel for himself what was happening inside her.

“I like you with a little belly.”

“It won’t be little for long.”

“No. I guess it won’t. I suppose we’ll need to get inventive then.”

Color flooded her cheeks. Her gaze dropped to where he was already growing hard again, her eyelashes momentarily concealing her eyes from him. When she met his gaze once more, he could see the hunger there—and the doubt and the hope.

He would do his damnedest to live up to that hope. He figured they had as much of a chance as anyone. He wanted Charlie—had never stopped wanting her—and he admired her and enjoyed her and liked her. He had a reasonable suspicion that the feeling was mutual. It felt like a hell of a lot in their favor.

“There’s something that’s been bugging me for months now,” he said, dropping a kiss onto her full bottom lip.

“What?”

He sucked her lip into his mouth, abrading it gently with his tongue.

“Last time, we were so mad for it, we rushed everything. We did everything at breakneck speed.”

“Did we?”

He smiled as he felt the subtle arch of Charlie’s body as she shifted. His gaze fell to her breasts.

“You know we did. Like we did just now.” He moved so he could kiss her breasts, sucking one nipple into his mouth and tonguing it until she squirmed. His hand remained on the swell of her belly, fingers spread. Grounding her and himself.

“I want to take it slow, Charlie. I want to lick and suck and touch you till you beg for it. I want to make you come so hard you forget everything except the two of us and what’s good between us.”

She inhaled sharply as he switched his attention to her other breast.

“I think you already did that.” Her voice was thready, breathy.

“No. Not yet.”

He tongued her nipple again, taking it in his mouth before biting ever so gently. Another surge of her hips, another gasping breath. He slid his hand from her belly into the silky hair between her legs. Her thighs fell open eagerly and he delved into slick, wet heat. He made an approving sound, tracing her lightly, deftly, paying attention when she stopped breathing and when her hips jerked involuntarily.

After a few minutes he lifted his head and looked into her face. She was flushed, her eyes half closed. Her hair had come loose from the ponytail, the strands a tousled nimbus around her head. She looked like a beautiful, aroused angel.

Holding her eye, he moved down the bed, his hand gliding from her belly to her hips. Finally he settled between her thighs, lifting one of her legs so it draped decadently over his shoulder.

Her hands were already fisted in the quilt, her eyes hot on his. Then he lowered his head and started to make good on his promise to drive her wild.





CHARLIE COULDN’T THINK. Rhys was between her legs, his mouth on her, his tongue doing things that made her want to shriek with need. She tensed, clutching at the quilt, trying to quiet the tide building inside her.

It was all too much. The shock of seeing him with another woman. The despair of finally acknowledging how deeply her own feelings ran. Then Rhys almost knocking down her door to get to her, to tell her that she was the one he wanted. That he’d wanted her ever since that night.

She gasped then bit her lip to stop herself from being any more vocal as Rhys slid a finger inside her. He continued to lap at her, his tongue rough and smooth at the same time, so hot and crazy making. Tension built inside her, coiling tighter and tighter. He changed the tempo, becoming more urgent as he sensed her growing need.

He slid a second finger inside her and his name hissed from her lips, escaping her tight control. Then she was lost, her body arching off the bed, one hand gripping Rhys’s shoulder, anchoring her. She forgot to breathe for long, long seconds, lost in the darkness behind her own eyelids, her world reduced to nothing but pleasure. Then her climax was over and he shifted, coming over her, sliding inside her still-throbbing body, and before she knew it, she was coming yet again, panting and calling out his name.

Afterward, he withdrew and made her roll to the side so he could pull the quilt from beneath them. Its warm weight settled over them and Rhys wrapped his body around hers and kissed her shoulder.

“Rest. You’re going to need it,” he murmured against her skin.

She smiled, so drugged by sex and satisfaction that she couldn’t keep a grip on all the reasons why this was never going to work. Warm and sated, wrapped in Rhys’s arms, she drifted into sleep.

She woke in darkness, Rhys’s body warming her side. He’d shifted in his sleep, withdrawing his arm but remaining on her side of the bed. She lay blinking in the dark, suddenly horribly aware of how much she’d risked by sleeping with him, by letting this happen. By letting down her guard.

Everything, really.

It had been bad before when she had loved him with no hope of ever having him, but now…

He’d offered her the dream—her fantasy—on a silver platter. The two of them together. A couple. Raising their child together. A family.

The fairy tale, essentially. The one she’d told Gina she didn’t believe in. The one she’d craved in her secret heart for more weeks than she cared to count.

Cold anxiety washed through her, constricting her belly, her chest, her throat. She swallowed, hugging her arms tight to her breasts, willing the feeling to go away. It didn’t, and after a few minutes she slipped from the bed and made her way into the living room. A blanket was folded over the edge of the couch and she wrapped it around herself and huddled in the corner of the sofa, knees pulled tightly to her chest.

She stared into the shadows, trying to calm her panicky thoughts and gain some perspective.

Rhys had made love to her with a single-minded intensity. He’d said all the right things—told her she was beautiful, that she drove him crazy, that he’d been thinking about her for weeks. He’d said that they were real, that he trusted them, that he wanted to see where this took them.

If she’d scripted it herself she couldn’t have done better. Yet here she was, shivering with an overdose of flight-or-fight anxiety.

Resting her forehead against her knees, she acknowledged at last that there was nothing Rhys could say to her that would make her fear go away. There was nothing anyone could say or do because it was her fear, as old as she was, born the moment her mother died and she was left with a father who had never truly been a father.

Talking to Gina earlier in the week, Charlie had started to see how profoundly that relationship had shaped her life and who she was. Her reserve and caution had been hard-earned thanks to necessity, and as she’d grown toward adulthood she’d held on to the incidents and memories that reinforced her view of the world and let go of the good things, the memories and moments that spoke of connection and love and her worthiness as a human being.

It was so much easier to believe the bad stuff when you’d been taught that believing the good stuff only set you up for failure and rejection. It was so much easier to believe the worst, full stop. She didn’t know why that was, she only knew it was true.

She wanted to hang on to the good things that had happened today. She wanted to remember the sweaty, sexy things Rhys had whispered against her skin while he was inside her. She wanted to hang on to the way he’d gripped her so tightly, as though she was as essential to his happiness as he was to hers. She wanted to preserve the safe, surrounded feeling she’d experienced when he’d pulled her body against his and soothed her to sleep.

She wanted to believe. She wanted to grab the fairy tale by the throat and hang on for grim life. She wanted to be brave enough to reach for happiness.

“Hey. What are you doing out here?”

She lifted her head as Rhys padded barefoot and naked into the room. His body was a masterpiece of muscle and sinew, a study in light and shade as he approached.

“I couldn’t sleep.”

“You should have woken me. Come back to bed.”

He didn’t wait for her answer, simply caught her arm and urged her to her feet. He wrapped himself and the blanket around her from behind and made her smile as they tried and failed to match their steps for the short walk to the bedroom. The bed was still warm and he encouraged her to lay her head on his chest while he caressed her shoulders.

“If you want to ask me anything, or if there’s something you want to say, I’m up for it,” he said after a while.

She knew what he was really asking—why she’d been out on the couch, brooding in the dark.

“It’s been a while since I shared a bed with someone, that’s all,” she lied. She kissed his chest, loving him for asking, for wanting to know, even though she couldn’t tell him.

Not yet, anyway. Maybe one day, when her belief in all this was a little more solid.

There was a long silence.

“I’ve been a planner all my life, even when I was a kid.” His voice was low and deep. “I had a plan to get Boyd Taylor to swap his salami-and-cheese sandwich for my peanut butter one. A plan to wrest the bottom bunk from Tim. A plan to buy a car, to kiss Sophie Goodwood, to start my own business.” He paused to catch one of her hands, threading his fingers through hers. “But I never planned for you, Charlotte Long. I had this vague idea that I’d meet someone sometime, that all the usual stuff would happen, but I didn’t have a clue.”

He almost sounded as though he was talking to himself, thinking out loud, but his words warmed her soul. When she looked at him, she saw confidence and good looks and charisma. She saw a man who attracted her in every possible way. It was good to know she’d rocked his world as much as he’d rocked hers. She needed to believe that.

He continued to talk, telling her about one of his childhood schemes. Slowly she let herself be eased toward sleep, his voice rumbling through her body.

A thought pierced her before sleep took her completely—this was the happiest she could ever remember being.

Another thought came hard on its heels.

Don’t screw it up. Whatever you do, don’t screw it up.

She tensed, but Rhys’s hand swept in a comforting arc across her back and after a few tense seconds she relaxed again and finally fell asleep.





RHYS WOKE with the warmth of sunshine across his face and Charlie’s head on his chest. One of her hands was curled loosely over his heart and he could feel the warm weight of her breasts pressing against his side.

He blinked a few times, memories from last night flashing across his mind’s eye. Charlie arching beneath him. Charlie calling his name. Charlie huddled on the couch in the small hours.

It had killed him to find her like that, hiding like a little kid. It had killed him even more when she hadn’t trusted him enough to tell him what had driven her out of bed.

She was so self-contained. Even when they made love there was a part of her that was always on guard. It was only toward the end, when she started to lose it, that she let herself go completely. It drove him a little crazy every time he watched her pack away her feelings so neatly and comprehensively. And every time she assured him she was fine when he knew she wasn’t. Partly because he wanted to know—really know—all of her, and partly because he knew she did it to protect herself, which meant she didn’t trust him.

Lying in the sunshine in Charlie’s bed, he thought about what he knew of her, what she’d told him and what he’d observed.

He knew she’d grown up without a mother. He knew her father had been distant and disinterested—to the point that he’d left notifying his only child he was dying till the last minute. It was impossible for Rhys to imagine a childhood without brothers and sisters and two parents who were warm and interested and engaged. But he tried because he wanted to understand Charlie.

He thought about all the times when his parents or siblings had been there for him and tried to imagine what it would have been like to navigate those moments alone. He thought about the Christmases and birthdays, the family holidays, the shared memories, the in-jokes, the love.

Charlie had had none of that. She’d been so starved of affection that she’d joined the army in an attempt to win her father’s approval. Rhys had a vision of her enduring the hell of recruit training, gritting her teeth and telling herself that it would be worth it, that she had to make it through so as not to disappoint her father. Then, after a while, understanding there was nothing she could do to bridge the gap between them.

What had she called it that night when he’d asked about her father? Unfinished business. A relationship that had never given her what she wanted. What she needed.

Was it any wonder that Charlie was slow to trust, slow to reveal herself? Was it any wonder that she always held something in reserve? She’d had no experience of trust, and Rhys suspected she hadn’t had nearly enough love in her life.

His arms tightened around her and she stirred against him. He fought the need to pull her closer again, to kiss her and come inside her and show her that she was valued and beautiful and loved.

Because he’d loved her for a while now. He hadn’t admitted it to himself until he’d seen the hurt in her eyes yesterday afternoon and known that he was responsible and understood that she was the last person he ever wanted to hurt or harm.

He’d fallen for her in slow degrees, seduced by her quiet humor and quick tongue and intelligence and sexy, slender body. She had more integrity in her little finger than most people had in their whole body. And she had courage and determination by the bucketful.

He wanted to be a part of her life. He wanted to earn her trust. He wanted to make her happy.

Resolve hardened inside him. He’d told Charlie that he hadn’t planned for her advent in his life. It was true, but he would plan for her now. He would do his damnedest to get her to drop her guard. He would chip away at her reserve until she let him in.

He would love her until she let herself love him back. If it was his life’s work, he would do it.

Charlie stirred again, and this time he gave in to need and ran a hand over her, cupping a breast. He was painfully aroused, craving connection with her, and he waited only until she’d blinked open her eyes and smiled before kissing her and rolling on top of her. They made slow, intense love in the morning sunlight. He told her with his body all the things he knew she wasn’t ready to hear yet and told himself that there would come a day—soon, he hoped—when he would say it all out loud.

They showered together, and then he took Charlie out for breakfast before taking her to the comic-book exhibition. They walked hand in hand from one display to the next and he watched her face light up as she found old favorites or discovered a much-longed-for rarity.

“Tell me if I’m talking too much,” she said as they moved from one superhero section to the next.

“I will. You’re not even close.”

She smiled her slow, shy smile and he used their joined hands to pull her close and kiss her. She tasted like the cinnamon-ginger pikelets she’d eaten for breakfast and he made an approving sound and deepened the kiss.

Charlie drew back, her cheeks red. “Rhys,” she said, her eyes darting first left, then right.

“This is the modern-art gallery. Kissing is not only acceptable, it’s encouraged.”

She laughed, even as she shook her head at him and told him he was incorrigible. When she started to fade midafternoon he insisted on taking her home so she could catch up on the sleep they’d lost last night. They lay on top of the quilt fully clothed and dutifully closed their eyes, but after twenty minutes Charlie asked if he was still awake and when he confirmed he was, they wound up peeling each other’s clothes off and fooling around until they both drifted into exhausted, sated sleep.

It was eight at night when they woke again. Charlie made them a quick dinner and they sat on the sofa, arms and legs entwined while they watched an old James Bond movie. He stirred when the credits started to roll, checking his watch.

“I should probably go. I have an early start tomorrow,” he said apologetically.

He waited for Charlie to suggest he stay the night and go home to change in the morning, but she simply nodded and disentangled herself. He watched as she collected their glasses and carried them to the kitchen, frustrated with her and annoyed with himself for being such a sulky little kid. She’d spent the day with him. She’d laughed at his jokes, responded to his kisses, returned his affection. It was day two. He needed to cultivate some patience.

She returned from the kitchen, stopping in the doorway. She was wearing a pair of stripy pajama pants and a T-shirt with no bra, her hair mussed around her face. Her mouth was pink from his kisses. She crossed an arm across her stomach and gripped the opposite hip and attempted to look casual, even though he could see the tension in her body.

“I was thinking, we could catch up one night during the week. Maybe grab a movie or something?” she suggested.

He smiled, all his frustration evaporating. He joined her in the doorway, sliding his arms around her waist. He loved that he was allowed to touch her now. Loved the feel of her strong, slender body against his own.

“I was thinking more than one night,” he said.

Her mouth tilted up at the corners. “That’s a little presumptuous, isn’t it?”

“Presumptuous is my middle name. As well as Andrew.”

“How many nights were you thinking?”

“How many have you got?” he asked.

“I’m having dinner with Gina on Tuesday night.”

“Then I’m thinking four nights. Unless Gina doesn’t mind me tagging along, then I’m thinking five.”

She looked a little uncertain. As though she wasn’t sure if he was joking or not. He kissed her.

“This is real, Charlie,” he said seriously.

She stared at him then kissed him back, a fierce, passionate kiss that had him hard in seconds.

When she stopped they were both breathing heavily.

“I’ll ask Gina if she minds sharing me with you.”

He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “You do that.” He turned reluctantly toward the door. “I’ll call you tomorrow, okay? We can work out what we want to do tomorrow night. See a movie.”

“Or stay in.”

He glanced at her. She raised her eyebrows, innocent as a newborn lamb. He smiled.

“Or stay in,” he agreed.

They lingered on the doorstep, each kiss extending into another, then another. Finally Charlie slipped free and laughingly pushed him away.

“At this rate you’ll never go,” she said. “And you need to get up early.”

“Okay.” He walked down the hall. “I’ll see you.”

“Yes.”

He glanced at her as he reached the stair landing. She watched him, an unreadable expression on her face. She waved, and he followed suit. Then she slipped inside her apartment and shut the door.

He paused for a moment, fighting the urge to go to her.

You are not fifteen, she is not your first girlfriend, and you will see her tomorrow. Man up, buddy, and get your ass home.

He kept walking to his car then he drove to his place.

He would see Charlie tomorrow—and the day after that, and the day after that. He’d keep seeing her for as long as she’d have him, and he would win her trust and wipe the uncertainty from her eyes.

He would make it his mission because he loved her, and he wanted her to be happy.





CHARLIE BRUSHED her teeth then slipped between sheets that smelled of him and turned off the light. She buried her face in his pillow and inhaled the scent of his aftershave and shampoo and allowed herself to be warmed by the memories of their weekend.

It had been perfect. Better than perfect. He’d been funny, tender, teasing, sexy, generous… He’d been her fairy-tale prince, and he hadn’t put a foot wrong.

Her smile faded as she contemplated the week ahead. He wanted to see her every night. She’d psyched herself up in the kitchen before asking him if he wanted to catch a movie one night and he’d come right out with a request to see her every night. Every night.

She gave in to instinct and pulled Rhys’s pillow closer, wrapping her arms around it. It didn’t come even close to substituting for him, but it was something.

This is real, Charlie.

She wanted to believe him very badly. She would try very hard to do so. And she would pray to all the gods and fates and the universe that he was right, that this was real, that this was going to work for her and him and The Bean.

Her arm wrapped around the pillow, she fell asleep. She woke to the ring of the telephone. She blinked blearily at her alarm clock before staggering from the bed in search of the phone.

“Morning,” Rhys said, his voice deep and low.

“Hi.” Stupid, but she felt a little breathless, simply because he’d called. “Is everything all right?”

“Just making sure everything is okay at your end.”

“It is.”

“You slept okay?”

“Yes. How about you?”

“I slept.”

She waited for him to tell her why he’d really called, but as they kept talking it slowly occurred to her that he’d missed her. The notion was heady, almost intoxicating.

Don’t get ahead of yourself.

She repeated the same mantra to herself hundreds of times over the following weeks, determined to give happiness a chance but also to maintain some sense of perspective.

Just in case things didn’t work out.





AFTER THE FIRST COUPLE of weeks Charlie and Rhys settled into a routine of sorts. Most nights were spent at her place, since Rhys claimed she had a lot more style than him and that his place was really a glorified walk-in closet. They double-dated with Gina and Spencer on Tuesday nights, but most of the time it was only the two of them, the way Charlie liked it. Maybe she was greedy, but she loved having Rhys all to herself, and he seemed to feel the same way about her.

The sex got better and better, even though the baby was definitely making her presence felt. Charlie quickly grew out of all her old clothes and moved beyond the point where an elastic stretched between button and hole, and a long T-shirt could help her skate by. She was in her sixteenth week and contemplating a shopping trip for maternity clothes when her breasts seemed to grow a cup size overnight—much to Rhys’s unashamed delight.

“Who am I to look a gift horse in the mouth?” he said when she commented on his near obsession.

Her enlarged breasts were exquisitely sensitive, too, but he was gentle and tender with her and their lovemaking took on yet another dimension. That same week, Rhys’s mother celebrated her birthday and they attended their first Walker family gathering as a couple.

Charlie had thought that she’d been nervous the first time she met Rhys’s family, but she was almost beside herself at the notion of showing up as his girlfriend. She’d spoken to Holly twice since she and Rhys had started seeing each other, but both times she’d been unable to find a way to reveal their new relationship to his mother. She suspected that Holly would be thrilled, but Charlie wasn’t sure and she didn’t want to lose the sense of connection that had been growing between them.

“Relax, Charlie. They already love you. Make a few cracks about what a money-grubbing capitalist pig I am and you’ll have them eating out of both hands,” Rhys said as they walked up the front path.

“This is so stupid. Why am I so nervous?” she asked herself out loud.

Rhys hooked an arm around her neck and drew her close. “Because you have no idea how lovable you are,” he said easily, pressing a kiss to her mouth. “That’s why.”

She was still blinking in confusion when the door opened and his father ushered them inside to join “the rest of the horde.”

“No lasagna tonight, Charlie,” Holly announced as they entered the kitchen. “Oh, my, haven’t you popped!” Her gaze went from Charlie’s belly to the arm Rhys had draped around her shoulders.

Charlie was very aware of Rhys’s siblings doing the same, but no one said anything, and pretty soon she was being pressed into a chair and handed a drink and a handful of crackers.

“Actually, the nausea stopped a couple of weeks ago,” Charlie explained when Meg made a big deal about moving the dip platter out from under Charlie’s nose in case it upset her stomach.

“Oh, good. I had a salad for you, just in case, but this is much better,” Holly said. She rested her hand on Charlie’s shoulder for a few seconds and her eyes were warm as they met Charlie’s.

The tension inside Charlie unraveled as she saw the unquestioning acceptance in the other woman’s eyes. As she’d hoped, Holly was pleased. One less thing to worry about.

Later, after a dinner of roast beef and vegetables and lemon meringue pie for dessert, Kim, Becky and Amber took Charlie aside and offered her bags of maternity clothes they no longer needed, before taking turns touching her belly.

“You’ll feel her move soon,” Becky said. “The strangest feeling in the world. Like an eyelash brushing against your skin—only on the inside.”

Charlie frowned and Kim gave her sister a shove in the arm. “Don’t freak her out. It’s nothing like that. It’s more like a goldfish swimming around.”

“Oh, that’s much better,” Becky scoffed.

“It’s fine. I don’t freak easily,” Charlie said.

“Of course you don’t. You’re with a Walker—if you freaked easily, you’d have run a long time ago,” Amber said.

Charlie laughed and thanked them all for their thoughtfulness. Glancing across the room, she caught Rhys’s eye. He was watching her, unashamed lust and admiration in his gaze. Even though it had been nearly a month, she still had the urge to pinch herself and glance over her shoulder to make sure it was really her he was looking at with so much heat and possessiveness.

As he kept telling her, this was real, this thing between them.

She caught herself yawning as Holly handed out coffee and Rhys immediately stood. “Charlie’s tired, I’m taking her home.”

His oldest brother gave him a disgusted look. “Have a little bit of dignity, mate. We all know you can’t wait to get her alone, but there’s no need to be that obvious.”

Charlie felt her face go up in flames as the rest of the Walkers started to rib Rhys. He laughed, fended them off and stuck to his guns, encouraging her to her feet.

“Think what you like. Charlie and I are going home.”

In the car five minutes later, the maternity clothes stowed in the trunk, she pressed her hands to her cheeks in an attempt to cool them. “That was embarrassing. If I could, I would have disappeared down an escape hatch, no questions asked.”

“Mark’s an idiot. And way too observant for his own good. Come here.”

He kissed her across the console, his hands soon wandering to her breasts. When the windows started to steam up, she broke their kiss and gave a small laugh.

“In case you’re wondering, I’m way too big to do it in the car.”

“Really?” He sounded genuinely disappointed.

“Plus, we’re in front of your parents’ place, and your brothers and sisters will be walking past any second now.”

“A far better point,” Rhys said. “Let’s go home.”

She sat back in her seat and tried not to reveal how much his choice of words had affected her. Home, he’d said. Let’s go home. She was past pretending those three words didn’t mean an enormous amount to her, that the notion of sharing a home—a life—with Rhys hadn’t become bigger and more real and more possible in her mind with each passing day.

True, he hadn’t said he loved her yet, but this very night he had said that she was lovable, and that was close enough to almost make no difference....

She studied his profile in the reflected light of the dashboard as he turned onto the freeway. She found him just as handsome today as she had all those months ago when she’d spilled his wine at Café Sydney. More so, really, because she knew that there was enormous character and intelligence and drive behind his gorgeous face, which only made him more appealing.

She glanced out the window and saw that they were driving past the turn off for McMahons Point.

“Take this exit,” she said impulsively. “Let’s go sit at the Point and watch the ferries.”

He glanced at her curiously but didn’t say anything as he signaled and took the exit ramp. When they pulled into the small parking bay at the Point, the shadow of the Harbour Bridge high overhead, they were the only car in the small gravel parking lot.

“Park over there,” Charlie said, pointing to the darkest corner.

Again Rhys glanced at her, but this time there was a knowing glint in his eye. She waited until he’d cut the engine before tugging off her stretchy leggings.

“I changed my mind about being too big.”

Rhys pushed his seat back and she clambered awkwardly over the console and straddled him. He grinned at her, his eyes very dark in the dim interior.

“I’ve been wanting to do this to you all night,” he said, his hand between her legs.

She closed her eyes as he caressed her, moving her hips in rhythm with his stroking fingers. She heard the clink of his belt buckle, then the hiss of his zip. She opened her eyes and reached between them to grasp his erection, freeing it from his boxers. He was big and hard and velvety smooth in her hand. She watched his face as she stroked him and he stroked her, then she positioned him and slid down to the hilt. They sighed simultaneously, his hands finding her hips. She started to rise and fall and it didn’t take long for them to both find their peak, their gasps and moans and murmured imprecations filling the small space. When she finally collapsed on top of him she was limp, her thighs quivering with exertion.

“God, I love you, Charlie,” Rhys panted against her neck.

She tried not to react, tried not to take it for anything other than what it was—a throwaway comment at the height of passion—but something must have given her away because Rhys’s hand found her chin and tilted her head so that she was looking him in the eye.

“I do, you know. I love you. I love you with everything I have.”

His eyes were steady on hers, his body still inside her, his hands on her skin. She wanted to believe him. So badly. She wanted to tell him that she loved him, too. That he had made her happier than she thought she could ever be. That she loved how he made her feel, how he made her laugh, how he’d made her braver and bolder and smarter and funnier.

She couldn’t, though, the old fear still holding her in its grip. If she didn’t want it quite so much, if she didn’t hold on to happiness so tightly, maybe it might last this time—that was what the voice in the back of her head said.

Maybe she wouldn’t screw it up.

Rhys was waiting for her response, and because she couldn’t give him words, she gave him actions, kissing him with all the pent-up fervor and love and passion and adoration in her. He kissed her back, but she could feel the disappointment in him and she couldn’t quite look him in the eye when she broke the kiss and scrambled to her own side of the car.

The windows were fogged up and Rhys wound them all down and blasted the windshield with the heater. She struggled into her leggings, aware of the loaded silence in the car. Waiting for Rhys to say something. He steered toward the parking lot exit. After he’d found his way back to the highway, he reached for her hand and brought it to rest on his thigh, his own hand on top of it. She dared a glance at him, and he offered her a small smile.

“It’s hard for me. But I’m trying,” she said, the words bursting out of her.

“I know,” he said simply. “There’s no rush.”

Gratitude filled her, along with a wash of love for him. He was so much bigger and better than any of her imaginings had made him. He was the man of her dreams.





CHARLIE DIDN’T THINK things could get better, but the next month slipped past in a haze of happy days and long, steamy nights. She’d thought the passion between them might die off after a while—all good things faded with time—but their chemistry only seemed to burn brighter and higher. He told her he found her burgeoning body erotic and sexy as hell and she could only believe him since he backed up his claims with lots of solid evidence.

They were together when The Bean first made her presence felt at seventeen weeks, sending a ripple of sensation across Charlie’s belly. She gasped and nearly leaped off the sofa, scaring Rhys half to death before she explained what had happened. Her eighteen-week scan confirmed that everything was progressing normally with their little girl and they began to discuss names in earnest, finally settling on Beth Emily Walker.

“Although she will forever be The Bean to me,” Rhys said.

They were nearing the end of June when Gina began making noises about Charlie’s birthday. Her birthdays had never been a big deal in the Long household, her mother’s death being inextricably linked with the date. Traditionally Charlie marked the day by buying herself an indulgent slice of cake and a bunch of flowers. Gina, however, had other ideas.

“I want to throw you a party. You could invite Trish and Yvonne and Hannah—I’m sure they’d love an excuse to ask for leave, and who doesn’t love Sydney? You can invite Rhys’s family and Spencer and any of your clients you like enough to break bread with.”

They were in Gina’s kitchen, polishing off the last of a batch of scones Charlie had made as part of her continuing quest to master the art of cooking.

“I don’t know,” Charlie said doubtfully.

“Give me one good reason why it’s a bad idea for all your friends and loved ones to celebrate the fact that you came into the world,” Gina challenged.

“Well, for starters, it’s the same day my mother died,” Charlie said quietly. “And I’ve always felt…I don’t know…ungrateful for getting excited about my birthday. Plus, I haven’t told Rhys it’s coming up and I know his family will want to make a big deal, too, and I’m really not sure about any of it.”

Gina pulled a face. “Sorry. I forgot about your mum.”

“It’s okay.”

“But that doesn’t mean that we shouldn’t have a party for your birthday, Charlie. I bet your mum would hate to think that you’ve never allowed yourself to have a special day because of her. If I were a mother, that would really piss me off.”

“I think if you were a mother, you’d say ticked off,” Charlie said.

“Stop deflecting. I promise it won’t be over the top or too in your face. We’ll have nice food and some music and everyone can dance attendance on you and worship your big fat belly.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“Come on. You know everyone wants to touch it. I can barely keep my hands off it and I know how private you are.”

“You can touch it if you want,” Charlie said shyly.

“Yeah?”

“If you put your hand right here, you might even feel her moving around. She’s been active this afternoon.”

Charlie guided her friend’s hand to a spot to the left of her belly button. She felt the baby surge inside her—she’d decided after a few weeks it felt like corn popping, not an eyelash brushing her skin or a fish swimming around—and watched Gina’s face.

“Can you feel her?”

“I think so. Like a tiny little earth tremor. Hey there, little lady.”

They exchanged smiles. Gina reversed their grips, catching Charlie’s hand in hers and giving it a squeeze.

“Let me throw you a party, Charlie. Please, pretty please?” Gina put on her best beseeching expression.

Charlie glanced at her belly, thinking of all that lay ahead. Thinking of the birthdays her little girl would enjoy one day. She would want her to celebrate. To be happy, no matter what.

“Okay. But please don’t go to too much trouble. And you have to let me contribute.”

Gina did a little happy dance and kissed Charlie’s cheek. “You will do no such thing. And you also won’t worry about anything. Leave it all in my capable professional caterer’s hands.”

Rhys picked her up half an hour later and she rather sheepishly told him about the party as they drove the two blocks to her apartment.

“You didn’t tell me your birthday was coming up,” he said blankly.

“I usually don’t make a big deal out of it. It’s Mum’s anniversary, too, and it’s always felt weird. But Gina wants to throw me a party. And I think I want to let her.”

Rhys’s gaze was understanding as he looked at her. “Then you should. You know my family will want to come, right?”

“I’d love for them to be there.”

“Try to keep them away. Now I have to come up with a suitable gift for you.”

“Like I said, I don’t usually make a big deal out of my birthday.”

“I promise not to go too over the top.”

She eyed him suspiciously. He had his teasing face on, which could mean anything.

“Promise me you won’t spend a lot of money or do something crazy.”

“Can’t do that. But I will promise that it will be good. Whatever it is.”

She bit her tongue, swallowing the urge to protest. He’d only dig his heels in and become even more cryptic and mysterious. One thing she’d learned about the Walker men was that they loved a good tease. The more prolonged and infuriating the better.

“Good girl,” Rhys said smugly.

“Wait till it’s your birthday.”

“I will.”

As usual, she felt a peculiar little thrill over the fact that she’d made a reference to the future and Rhys hadn’t pulled her up short or pointed out that what she was talking about was weeks, maybe even months, away and that they had no business planning that far ahead. It was stupid—and yet another example of how she couldn’t seem to let go of the deeply ingrained lessons of her past—but she was aware that a part of her tested Rhys every time she referenced the future. As though one day she would catch him and he would be forced to admit that he’d been playing her for a fool all along.

She didn’t believe that, not in her heart of hearts. When she lay next to him in bed at night and he reached for her in his sleep, she knew that he meant it when he said he loved her. He phoned her at least once a day, usually at lunch to check on how she was doing, and every morning he opened his eyes and smiled when he saw her looking at him.

He loved her, and she loved him. They made each other happy. There was absolutely no reason for her to still be carrying around the gnawing sense that, any moment now, her happiness could blow away like so much dust. She told herself every day to get over it, to move on, and while the sense of fragility and uncertainty had diminished, there was always a nagging little voice in the back of her head urging her to be cautious and careful and wary.

Maybe when the baby was born the voice would go away. Or maybe she was doomed to carry it around with her for the remainder of her days. Maybe it was the legacy of a sterile childhood, an absent mother and a distant father.

Or maybe it would simply take more than a couple of months of Rhys in her life and in her bed for her to accept that she was loved and that this really could be her future.



THE DAY OF HER PARTY brought with it leaden clouds and a cold, bone-chilling breeze. Rhys woke her with kisses and breakfast in bed, followed by a hot shower and even hotter lovemaking. Only when she was lying flushed and limp on the sheets did he place a small box on her belly.

“Happy birthday, Charlie,” he said quietly.

She stared at the small, square velvet box, her heart leaping into her throat.

Surely he hadn’t…?

He couldn’t possibly have. They were still finding their feet together.

No. He wouldn’t.

“This looks interesting,” she said, forcing a bright note into her voice.

Rhys didn’t say anything, although she could feel him watching her, weighing her reaction. She willed her hands not to shake as she opened the hinged lid on the box. A pair of intricately worked silver-and-gold earrings nestled against white velvet. Charlie recognized them as the work of the same artist who had made the bracelets she’d bought for Kim and Becky’s birthday.

She looked at Rhys, enormously touched that he’d come up with such a thoughtful gift.

“Thank you,” she said simply. “They’re beautiful.”

“I love you, Charlie.”

Warmth filled her chest. She reached out and wrapped an arm around his neck, pulling him close so that she could press her face against his shoulder. She inhaled his scent and rubbed her cheek against his.

“I love you, too.”

It was the first time she’d been able to voice her feelings—the first time she’d felt safe enough to. His arms tightened around her and they lay together for a long moment, holding each other. Loving each other.

After a few minutes the baby made her presence felt with a powerful kick, almost as if she sensed that the outside world was preoccupied with something other than her for a change.

“Wow. I felt that,” Rhys said, pulling away from her to stare at her belly.

“She’s going to be a fighter, our Beth,” Charlie said, hands pressing the taut curve of her abdomen.

“Like her mum,” Rhys said.

The phone rang then and the rest of the morning was consumed with getting ready for her party and helping Gina out with a few last-minute details, like picking up some flowers and extra bottles of wine. They arrived an hour before everyone else, but Gina insisted on Charlie putting her feet up while she and Rhys finished the preparations.

Gina had cleared off the covered patio and borrowed some clear marquee walls from work in order to make the space weather tight. Giant gas-powered jet heaters sat in opposing corners, already making the space toasty. A long trestle table groaned with food, again courtesy of Gina’s work. Charlie had insisted that her friend let her pay for the party, but Rhys and Gina had overridden her. Her job, she had been told more than once, was to sit back and lap it up.

A hard task for someone who had always prided herself on being a team player. She wasn’t used to being the center of attention, but as guests started to arrive she became so absorbed in greeting and talking that she forgot that this day was all about her. The Walkers were their usual boisterous selves, and there was much laughter and hugs when her army friends arrived from interstate. She was particularly touched that Yvonne and Hannah had flown all the way from Perth—no small feat—and spent a good half hour huddled in a corner with them catching up on their news and allowing them to feel her belly. As Gina had predicted, her bump was the star of the show.

“I’m starting to get worried about what it’ll be like when I get really big,” she said in an aside to Rhys.

“Complete strangers will accost you in the street. That’s what happened with my sisters.”

“Lucky I know self-defense, then.”

Wine flowed and conversation swelled and Charlie felt as though she was awash in a sea of friendship and affection. She was enjoying a quiet moment alone, watching everyone talk and laugh around her, when Gina sidled up.

“Told you it would be fun, didn’t I?” she said.

“You did. Thank you. This is really, really nice.”

“I give good party, what can I say? And you have good friends.”

Gina waited until the trestle table was being cleared in preparation for dessert before clinking a fork against her wineglass to get everyone’s attention.

“Okay, people, it’s that time of the day when we get to embarrass Charlie. Come on up here, birthday girl.”

Rhys urged Charlie forward with a hand in the small of her back, and she took her place beside Gina, standing on the rear step.

“Look at you, all aglow with your pregnancy hormones,” Gina said.

Everyone laughed. Charlie looked out at the sea of smiling faces and felt her throat close up with emotion. One of the things she’d loved the most about being part of the army was the sense that she belonged—not a particularly startling observation, given her background, and probably one of the reasons why she’d chosen to serve for so long. Much of her nervousness about becoming a civilian had been anxiety at the loss of that sense of belonging and identity, but looking out at her gathered friends and Rhys’s family, she understood something that she’d never really allowed herself to register before—family wasn’t defined only by blood ties and the accident of birth. Family could be made, too, held together with bonds of friendship and shared experience and love and goodwill.

“Brace yourselves, I’m about to get maudlin,” Gina said. “I met Charlie during recruit training more than fourteen years ago. At the time, I was freaking out over the fact that I’d signed my life away. Recruit training was hard and demanding, and after the first few days I started to think I’d made the biggest mistake of my life. Then I got paired with Charlie for an orienteering exercise.”

Gina glanced at Charlie, her eyes dancing with mischief. Charlie shook her head, knowing it was pointless to try to stop her friend from telling tall stories.

“To this day, I don’t know how I got paired with her, because everyone wanted to be with Charlie. We’d all worked out on the first day that she was the only one who knew what she was doing. She was fit and she was tough and she never, ever complained. She made me feel like the saddest, wimpiest princess ever.”

“She’s exaggerating,” Charlie interjected.

“She’s right, I am. She did complain one time—she told me I was holding her back when I asked to stop for a rest break.”

Everyone laughed. Charlie caught Rhys’s eye and pulled a “can you believe this?” face. He had his arms crossed over his chest and his gaze was affectionate as he watched her. She flashed to this morning—the feel of his arms around her, the scent of his skin, the words I love you hanging in the air between them. As lovely as all this was, she had a sudden craving to be back in her bedroom, only the two of them.

“Once training was done we all went our separate ways and I didn’t run into Charlie again until we were both posted to Townsville. The moment I heard she’d arrived at the same time as me I suggested we share digs together. I’m not stupid, right? I’d learned my lesson the first time—find the smartest and the strongest and copy her for all you’re worth.”

Charlie bumped Gina with her hip, embarrassed by her effusive praise. Gina tucked her arm through Charlie’s but didn’t stop talking.

“The three years we lived together were some of the best of my life. I learned that not only was Charlie the best soldier I knew, she was also the best friend a woman could have. Loyal, generous, supportive, honest—and she wasn’t afraid to hand out a bit of tough love, either. She’s also the woman least likely to hog the limelight, least likely to demand credit for her accomplishments and least likely to ask for help when she needs it, even though I can name dozens of people who would fall over themselves to provide it.

“Needless to say, I am thrilled to death that Charlie allowed me to throw her this party today because I have been waiting for years to spoil her and make her squirm.” Gina turned to face Charlie, her eyes suspiciously shiny. “Think of it as payback for all those sit-ups you made me do so I’d pass physical. I love you, friend. Happy birthday.”

Everyone else took up the cheer. Charlie blinked furiously as Gina hugged her tightly.

“And now, someone else has something he’d like to say,” Gina said, disentangling herself from Charlie’s embrace.

Gina stepped down, and Rhys stepped up. Charlie sniffed and used the excuse of pushing her hair behind her ear to wipe a tear from her cheek.

“How you doing there, tiger?” Rhys asked, a small smile on his lips.

“Let’s just get this over with.”

Everyone laughed.

“Suck it up, Charlie,” Becky heckled from the rear of the patio. “Take it like a woman.”

Rhys took her hand. “Not so long ago, someone asked me why I wasn’t married yet. I’ll leave it up to you to guess who’d ask such a forthright question. And no, it wasn’t my mother.”

Everyone laughed. Charlie gave Rhys a dark look.

“You asked some pretty pointed questions that night, too, if I remember.”

Rhys squeezed her hand. “My answer to this very direct question was that I hadn’t met anyone I wanted to spend the rest of my life with yet. I was completely wrong, of course. I had met her—she was sitting in front of me, doing her damnedest to make the best of a bad situation. It just took me a while to work it out.”

For some reason, her stomach did a slow, nervous roll. As though it knew something that she didn’t. Rhys didn’t take his eyes from hers as he continued talking.

“Charlie, you are the best person I know. I love the way you never do anything by halves. I love the way you refuse to retreat. I love your quiet sense of humor. I love you. These past months with you have made everything else in my life suddenly make sense. I literally can’t imagine my life without you in it. Better yet, I don’t want to.”

It took Charlie a moment to realize what was happening as Rhys stepped down to the patio and sank on to one knee. The hand holding hers was trembling as he looked up into her face.

“Charlie, will you marry me? Will you let me make you and The Bean happy for the rest of our lives?” Rhys’s voice was husky with emotion and she could see the nervousness and hope behind his eyes.

Everyone was silent, barely daring to breathe as they waited for her response, but her mind was one big echo chamber, empty of thought.

She looked at Rhys and saw his handsome face and broad shoulders and felt the powerful pull of his personality. She loved him so much it scared her. The sound of his voice, his little gestures and habits, the way he laughed, his energy, his drive. His essential goodness. His integrity. The way he made her feel. The future he offered her—a life filled with laughter and challenge and love.

He was a dream. A fantasy. Too good to be true. Yet he was on his knee in front of her, and he’d asked her to marry him.

This was happening. To her.

The shuffling of feet sounded and a motorbike drove by on the street—and still Rhys held her gaze, waiting patiently. Allowing her to get to where she needed to be in her own time.

I want this so badly.

Her life had been full of compromise and disappointment. Everything she’d ever had she’d earned three times over. She didn’t feel as though she’d earned Rhys and The Bean. They’d simply happened, a gift from the gods, and the cautious, wary part of her was afraid to trust that they were real.

It feels real. And I want it so badly.

She stared into Rhys’s dark, unwavering eyes and the answer rose up inside her.

If you want it, reach out and take it. Be brave. Not just for The Bean, but for you and Rhys, too.

She opened her mouth. “Yes.”

He smiled. It was only then that she could see that he’d been deeply unsure what her answer might be. And still, he’d knelt before her and laid himself on the line in front of their friends and family. On impulse, she stepped down to the patio, and before he could stand she joined him on her knees.

“I would very much like to be your wife,” she said.

She reached out and cupped his jaw in her hand and drew him close for a kiss. A cheer went up and she heard a champagne cork pop, closely followed by another. Rhys smiled against her lips and she started to laugh. He wrapped his arms around her and she splayed her hands over his back and held him tight.

“I love you,” she whispered.

He pulled back from her and brushed her cheekbone with his thumb. Then he plucked a velvet box from his pocket. She smiled, understanding why he’d been so intent on her reaction this morning when he’d given her the earrings.

“It should fit, but if it doesn’t we can easily get it adjusted,” he said as he pulled out a delicate filigree ring studded with what looked like hundreds of tiny white diamonds.

“Good God,” she said, shocked by how beautiful it was.

He grinned and slid the ring on to the fourth finger of her left hand. It was a little loose, but she closed her hand to prevent it from sliding off.

“We’ll get it fixed,” he assured her.

“Rhys, it’s absolutely stunning.”

Everyone wanted to congratulate them then. She was pulled to her feet and hugged by Holly, then Becky and Gina and Meg. The rest of Rhys’s family got in on the act next, then her army buddies. Charlie felt dizzy from all the attention, and before long her face started to ache from smiling so much. Everyone was so excited, all talking at once. Rhys was on the other side of the patio being thumped on the back by his brothers. She kept searching him out, as though some part of her was afraid that she’d imagined the past ten minutes.

She glanced at her ring. It was so beautiful it took her breath away. Rhys had obviously put a lot of time and effort into finding it, and the thought of him searching for just the right ring for her made her chest ache with emotion.

Suddenly she felt a little breathless and on the verge of tears. This was all so lovely, but it was overwhelming, too. So much happiness. So much expectation.

Waiting for a break in the conversation, she excused herself and slipped into the house. The bathroom was located behind the living room and she shut the door and felt her shoulders drop a notch. She sat on the edge of the tub and clasped her hands in her lap.

She would give herself five minutes then she would go back out again. She wanted to stow away as many memories as she could. After all, she would remember this day for the rest of her life.

The day Rhys asked her to marry him—and the day she’d had the courage to say yes.

Sitting alone, the sound of the party a distant rise and fall in the background, she acknowledged that her answer would have been very different if he’d asked her the same question even a month ago. A month ago, she hadn’t been ready to believe all this could be hers. She’d been so determined not to be caught short if something went wrong. So determined to keep one eye on the exit, in case he changed his mind or got sick of her or decided that she wasn’t any of the things he seemed to believe about her.

Somehow, slowly but surely, she’d started to accept that what Rhys felt for her was real. That he wasn’t going away. That this wasn’t some cosmic screwup that would correct itself just when she’d allowed herself to believe.

Rhys loved her. A part of her still reeled in stunned surprise every time he articulated as much to her, but at some point she had decided to accept him at face value.

She’d decided to trust the warmth she saw in his eyes and the passion of his lovemaking and the reverence of his touch. She’d decided to choose happiness. To allow herself to believe that she was loved. That she was worth it. That she mattered.

She spread her hands over the mound of her belly, thinking about the future that she and Rhys and The Bean could build together. For a moment, she felt as though she could almost split in two with happiness. That there wasn’t enough of her to contain it all, it was so big and deep and complete.

A tap sounded on the bathroom door. “Charlie?”

She smiled. “Come in.”

Rhys slipped inside, shutting the door behind him. “Too much?” he asked as he perched beside her on the tub.

“It’s lovely.”

“But loud.”

“It’s perfect.”

“So you’re not angry with me for ambushing you?”

“No.”

“I wanted to make a statement. I wanted you to know how loved you are. How proud I am of you.”

“I know.”

“Do you?” He reached out and traced first one eyebrow, then the other. “I don’t know what I did without you, Charlie. I can’t even remember what my life was like.”

“I can. My life, I mean,” she said. “I can remember looking at the world from the outside. Always from the outside. But you brought me inside.”

He’d given her a family. He’d given her unconditional love. He’d soothed her fears and been patient with her anxieties and, even though she’d pushed him away, he’d hung in there.

Because she was worth it.

What a revolutionary concept. One he’d helped her believe in. She smiled.

Rhys cocked his head to the right. “What?”

“I was just thinking we should write to that condom company and thank them for their inferior product.”

“You’re right, we should.”

“Dear Sir/Madam. I’d like to thank you for helping me make the most magnificent, amazing, beautiful mistake of my life—”

“Without your faulty latex, I might never have met the woman of my dreams. And I might never know what it’s like to finally feel comfortable in my own skin.”

“I think that’s my line, not yours,” she said.

“It’s mine, too.”

They both smiled.

“We can share it,” she suggested.

“Along with everything else.”

“Yes.”

They kissed. The too-happy feeling filled her again, but this time she didn’t feel overwhelmed. Rhys was with her. He had her. He wouldn’t let her down. And she wouldn’t let him down, either.

They were a team, he and her and The Bean.

Finally, she understood that.

* * * * *