Free Christening by Claire Kent Page A

her had been hoping that he’d had work to distract him from their absence. But now she had no choice but to visualize him, haunting an empty apartment, unable to sleep, unable to work, unable to do anything but be lonely.
    “Oh, Seth,” she said hoarsely, her hands sliding around to the back of his neck. “Was it that bad? You weren’t drinking too much, were you?”
    “I told you—I didn’t fall apart. The first night…well, I didn’t handle it well. But I’ve been doing all right since.”
    He was downplaying his own misery, so she wouldn’t feel bad, but Erin felt bad anyway. Felt terrible. Felt guilty. And her face must have reflected it.
    Seth frowned. “You’re not feeling sorry for me, are you?”
    “Of course not. I wouldn’t dare to do something like that.” She moved her hand back to once again caress his familiar face. “But I can’t help but want to take care of you. You look tired.”
    “I am tired,” he admitted, reaching up and pulling her hand off his face, but then twining his fingers with hers once again. “But I’m all right.” Shifting the elbow that was supporting his head, he continued, “I know you didn’t leave to prove something to me or to make a point. But I think…I think maybe it did help me see something that I had somehow neglected to see before.”
    Erin’s brows lowered as she listened, feeling like this might be important.
    Seth hesitated. Looked down at the blanket. Shifted again, self-consciously, proving that what he was trying to say was hard for him to admit. “Those nights I spent this week, alone in our bed, were so much harder than the nights I’ve spent in hotels. I could sense you all around me, and so I could feel your absence even more. It should have felt like home, but it didn't. It felt so empty.” He finally looked up. Met her eyes. “And I realized how you must have felt—all those nights I was gone. It had never occurred to me before. I just always thought of you as safe and happy with the girls. I always thought of you as…home. But now I realize that it’s not the same home when one of us isn’t there.”
    Erin’s throat had constricted as she realized what he was saying.
    On a roll now, Seth went on, his voice unusually thick, “I’m so sorry, Erin. That I’m only now thinking about how hard it must have been for you. For you and the girls. Not just when I was out of town but when I was in town but not really home. And it’s not just an empty gesture of appeasement when I say I’m not going to let it happen again.”
    All of the emotion in Erin’s chest and belly was flooding up into her throat and eyes. Unable to speak, she nodded at him, to let him know she’d understood.
    “And I know that doesn’t address all of our problems, and there are some unavoidable work issues that we’ll have to try to deal with, but I wanted you to hear this from me now.” He raised his hand then, to brush one of the tears from the corner of Erin’s eye.
    “Thank you,” she managed to say.
    She’d sensed that Seth had been holding back his urge to really touch her during their conversation. And, now, as if he couldn’t hold himself back anymore, he lifted her hand and pressed a soft kiss into her palm.
    She relaxed back on the blanket and gazed up at him. Didn’t pull her hand away.
    He met her eyes deeply. Kissed her palm again. Then pushed another warm kiss into the heel of her hand. Another on the pulse in her wrist.
    And everything felt so warm, and safe, and simple. Like a dream or a story. Like a quiet summer afternoon.
    She knew what the smolder in his eyes meant. She knew why his body was starting to tighten.
    He was moving slowly. Giving her a chance to stop him, to decide what she wanted.
    She didn’t need to decide. Things weren’t perfect between them. Weren’t even close to perfect. There was a lot they needed to deal with. A lot of painful, conflicted issues that would take a long time to work through.
    But they didn't