We. She’d said ‘we’. And he wasn’t freaked out by it as much as he’d thought he would be. In fact he kind of liked it.
He put his arm around her and held her close. She clutched onto him with a ferocity that both pleased and worried him. There was that shadow again around her eyes. What gave?
He booked Lizzie and Amy into the room adjoining Sandy’s, talking over their protests when he told them that the room was on the house.
‘Dinner tonight at the hotel?’ he asked, including Lizzie and Amy in the invitation.
Sandy nodded. ‘Yes, please—for all of us. Though it will have to be early because of Amy’s bedtime.’
‘I’m good with that.’
The sooner Lizzie and Amy were settled in their room, the sooner he could be alone with Sandy. Their time together was ticking down.
Lizzie glanced at her watch. ‘We have to get to the zoo.’ She took Amy’s book and packed it in her bag. ‘C’mon, Amy, quick-sticks.’
Amy indicated for Sandy to pick her up and Sandy obliged. She embraced Sandy in a fierce hug.
‘I’ll bring you a white lion, Auntie Ex,’ she said.
Auntie Ex? Ben was about to ask for an explanation of the name when Amy leaned over from her position in Sandy’s arms and put her arms up to be hugged by him.
‘Bye-bye, Ben,’ she said. ‘Do you want a white lion, too?’
Ben froze. He hadn’t held a child since he’d last held Liam. But Amy’s little hands were resting on his shoulders, her face close to his. For a moment it was the three of them. A man. A woman. A child.
He panicked. Had to force himself not to shake. He looked to Sandy over the little girl’s blonde head. Connected with her eyes, both sad and compassionate.
He cleared his throat and managed to pat the little girl gently on the back. ‘A white lion would be great—thanks, Amy.’
‘A girl one or a boy one?’ Amy asked.
Ben choked out the words. ‘A...a boy one, please.’
‘Okay,’ she said, and wiggled for Sandy to put her down.
Amy ran over to her mother.
‘How are you going to get the white lions back here, Amy?’ asked Sandy.
‘In the back of the car, of course, silly,’ Amy replied.
The adults laughed, which broke the tension. But Ben was still shaken by the emotion that had overtaken him when he’d stood, frozen, in that group hug with Sandy and Amy. And he couldn’t help but notice how Sandy’s eyes never left her delightful little niece. There was more than being a doting aunt in her gaze.
‘Okay, guys, I have to get back to the bookshop,’ Sandy said. She hugged Amy and Lizzie. Then turned to him and hugged him. ‘I’m going to stay back for a little while after I shut up shop and flick through Ida’s files. I’ll see you for dinner.’
He tightened his arms around her. Something was bothering her—and that bothered him. ‘Don’t be too long,’ he said, wanting to urge her to stay.
Lizzie and Amy headed for their car. Ben watched Sandy as she walked through the door. Her steps were too slow, her head bowed. She seemed suddenly alone, her orange dress a flash of colour in the monochrome decor of the reception area.
Was she thinking about how much she’d miss Lizzie and Amy if she settled in Dolphin Bay?
He suspected it was more than that.
Sandy had accepted his reasons for not wanting to risk having another child. But he’d seen raw longing in her eyes when she’d been with Amy.
When she was eighteen she’d chattered on that she wanted three kids. He’d thought two was enough—but he hadn’t argued about wanting to be a parent. Fatherhood had been on his future agenda, too.
The ever-present pain knifed deeper. Being father to Liam had been everything he’d wanted and more. He’d loved every minute of his son’s babyhood.
He took in a deep, shuddering breath. By denying Sandy her chance to be a mother he could lose her. If not now, then later.
It might make her wave goodbye and leave for Melbourne on Wednesday, never to return to Dolphin Bay. Or, if she decided to stay with him, she might come to resent him. Blame him for the ache in her heart that only a baby could soothe.
Could he let that happen?
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
THE NEXT AFTERNOON Sandy trudged towards the hospital entrance. Fed up with the muggy atmosphere in Bay Books, and the rattling, useless air-conditioner, she’d shut up shop on the dot of five o’clock. To heck with going through more of Ida’s files. She’d talk to Ida in person.
Whether or not she’d be able to have a sensible business conversation was debatable. She was too churned up with anxiety about the reality that a long-term relationship with Ben meant giving up her dream of having children. She tried summoning the techniques Ben had taught her to overcome her fear of monster waves but without any luck.
Her anxiety was like a dark shadow, diminishing the brilliance of her rediscovered love for Ben. Even memories of their heavenly lovemaking the night before, the joy of waking again in his arms, was not enough.
It felt like that long-ago summer day when she had been snorkelling with Ben at Big Ray Beach, out in the calm waters of the headland. It had been a perfect day, the sun shimmering through the water to the white sand beneath them, illuminating shoals of brightly coloured little fish darting in and out of the rocks. She and Ben had dived to follow some particularly cute orange and white clown fish.
Then suddenly everything had gone dark. Terrified, she’d gripped Ben’s arm. He’d pointed upwards and she’d seen one of the big black manta rays that had given its name to the beach swim directly above them. She’d panicked, thinking she didn’t have enough air to swim around it and up to the surface. But the ray had cruised along surprisingly quickly and she and Ben had been in sunshine again. They’d burst through to the top, spluttering and laughing and hugging each other.
Right now she felt the way she had when the light had been suddenly cut off.
She couldn’t ignore Ben’s stricken reaction when Amy had reached out to him yesterday. Her niece was discerning when it came to the adults she liked. She’d obviously picked Ben as a good guy and homed in like a heat-seeking missile. But all it had done was bring back painful memories for Ben.
If Sandy had held on to any remnant of hope that Ben might change his mind about having a child she’d lost it when she’d seen the fear and panic in his eyes.
And it hadn’t got any better during dinner. She’d seen what an enormous effort it had been for Ben to take part in Amy’s childish conversation. Amy, bless her, hadn’t noticed. Her little niece had been too pleased she’d managed to get a toy girl white lion for her Auntie Ex and a boy one for Ben.
It must be so painful for Ben to endure—every child he encountered a reminder to him of what he had lost.
But it was painful for her, too, to know that Amy would be the only child she would ever have to love if she and Ben became a long-term couple.
Could she really do this? Put all her hopes of a family aside?
Would she be doomed to spend the next ten years or so hoping Ben might change his mind? Counting down the fertile years she had left? Becoming embittered and resentful?
She loved Ben; she didn’t want to grow to hate him.
If she had any thought that her relationship with Ben might founder over the children issue should she think seriously of breaking