A Mother's Love by Ruth Wind

ever compatible!
    But therein lay the trouble. She was in love with him. Crazy in love. Can’t-breathe-in-his-presence love. How could she make a civilized agreement knowing that her heart was so completely engaged and his was not? How could either of them be happy under such circumstances?
    She heard the sound of his voice in the other room, rising and falling in that beautiful lilt, and below it the sound of nonsense baby noises. She picked up his shirt from the floor and tossed it on, buttoning it as she crept into the other room. At the sight that greeted her, her heart squeezed so hard it was as if a fist had it, and she had to take a moment to remember to breathe. Fresh blood and oxygen rushed back in, filling her heart and her throat, the pure, sweet gold of love.
    For there was Dylan in a pair of jeans and nothing else, kneeling on the floor where he’d spread a blanket. On the blanket was a freshly diapered Merry, gurgling and cooingand squeaking in response to his low, intimate conversation. He was dressing her, and by the look of the baby’s damp head, she was freshly bathed.
    â€œSo you think I should just tell her, do you?” he said and waited for Merry to chortle back, her hands and feet going a thousand miles an hour.
    Oh, Kyra thought, it didn’t matter if he didn’t love her the same way she loved him. She had plenty of love in her for both of them, and he loved Merry and he would be faithful and work hard and make love to her.
    Tears sprang to her eyes. Wasn’t that what real love was about anyway?
    â€œGood morning,” she said quietly.
    â€œOh, ho!” Dylan cried. “Here’s your mommy now! What say you, girl? Tell her you’re sorry you made her so tired she slept clear through the night.”
    â€œDid she sleep all night?” Kyra asked, padding closer.
    â€œDa la la la da,” Merry said, her head turning in a gratifying way to see where Kyra was.
    â€œTechnically all night, since she didn’t start fussing until 4:00 a.m.” His diamond-bright eyes fastened on her face. So early in the morning, his beard was heavy and grizzled. “How are you this fine morning?”
    She nodded, a very small smile spilling over her lips. “Very well, thank you.” She brushed a hand over his chin, realizing as she did so that there was something about Dylan Jones that made her lose her lifelong shyness. “This is a very sexy look, I must say.”
    He caught her hand and kissed the palm, then took a breath. “Merry and I, we have something to confess to you.”
    Rocking back on her heels, she frowned. There was gravity in his face. “You changed your mind,” she said dully.
    â€œNot exactly,” he said and propped Merry against his side, the length of her back against his arm, her happy-baby expression unmistakably a smile as she cooed toward Kyra.
    â€œWait,” she said and kissed Merry’s nose. And then kissed Dylan, too. She took a breath and rocked back on her heels. “Okay, tell me the bad news.”
    At 5:49 a.m., Dylan Jones—who was the most gorgeous, kind, honorable and, not to mention, sexy man she had ever met—said, “It’s just that I think you should know the whole truth, Kyra. I would like to marry you and I would like to make the agreement we discussed, but I also think it’s fair to tell you that—” He paused, looked at the baby, then back to Kyra. “Well, it’s foolish and I have no way to make it sound less so, but I’m marrying you because I hope someday you’ll find it in you to love me the way I love you now.”
    All the little signs and signals she’d been noticing since she first laid eyes upon him, all those pointers that made him seem so familiar, dropped into place. She smiled slowly. “I see.”
    He cleared his throat. Nervously.
    Kyra laughed. She fell forward and kissed tiny baby toes and then Dylan’s fingers and