I have to, with you two for children.” Then he stroked Molly’s hair, smoothing the reddish-brown strands. “And of course I love you. I’ve loved you from the moment your mom and I found out we had a baby on the way. Now get your coats and I’ll see what’s playing at The Palace tonight.”

 

 

 

The kids went to get their coats, leaving Brock and Harley alone in the kitchen. “I’m glad you’re taking them out,” Harley said, happy with Brock for making an effort to do something the kids would enjoy. She was also proud of him for putting his feelings into words. Kids needed to hear that they were loved. Actions were important, but words were essential, too. “You will have fun.”

“So will you,” he answered, looking up from his cell phone, as he’d immediately gone online to check for movie times. “Do you care what movie we see? Or are you up for anything?”

Harley’s mouth opened, closed. A lump filled her throat. “I can’t go,” she said quietly, going to the stove to retrieve the burnt pan. “This is a Dad and kids thing.”

“But the kids like you and I know they’d enjoy having you along—”

“No.” Harley’s voice was firm. “They might like me, but they need you. They need time alone with you, being your primary focus, getting your undivided attention.”

“But they’ve always been my focus. They’ve never had competition. It’s always been the three of us.”

“Good.” She smiled at him, liking him even more for wanting to include her, but she wasn’t part of the family. She was the temporary housekeeper and cook and leaving in the morning. “You go. I’ll manage things here and I’m happy managing things here. I love that you’re taking the kids out and doing fun things. It’s not just your kids who need to play. You need to play, too, Brock Sheenan. You’re a good man. You deserve a good life.”

He was quiet a moment, staring out the window. “Don’t leave tomorrow.”

Her heart turned over. “I have to.”

“Why?”

“You know why.”

“Because it’s hard to be around kids,” he said.

“Being around kids makes me miss being a mom.” She swallowed hard. “Makes me... envious... of what I don’t have.” She looked at him, wanting him to understand. “If your kids were awful or hateful it’d be easier here. I could cook and clean and leave in January without a second thought. But your kids remind me of m—” she broke off, pressed a hand to her mouth to keep the word in.

Mine.

The twins needed a mother, too, and she knew how to mother. She’d been a good mother and if she weren’t careful, she’d want to stay here. She’d want to take care of the kids, spoiling them, hugging them.