“Yeah, I was right. He’s gorgeous like his mom,” Josh said with a grin toward Paisley.

“No arguments here,” Jagger answered, wrapping his arms around his very exhausted wife.

Josh looked up at me, and time stood still. I saw it there in his eyes—our future, our possibilities, our family. I saw little boys at hockey practice and little girls with their noses in books. Then I pictured pink skates and brainy boys. Every which way I imagined our life, it was perfect, because we had a love that was rare, precious, and worth fighting for. Worth sacrificing for.

There was no way I was going back to Turkey, not when we were so close to having everything we wanted together. I needed to be here, at least until we had our issues worked out. There would be other opportunities, other digs. There was only one Josh.

He echoed my smile, but as he glanced down where my fingers traced Peyton’s arm under the blanket, his expression fell, first hurt, then hardened the longer he looked at my hand. When he looked back up at me, there was a distance I couldn’t explain and instantly feared. What the hell had just happened?

Paisley cleared her throat. “So have you decided if you’re going to take the job running the dig?” she asked.

Josh’s eyes widened. “They offered you a job?”

“Yeah. It’s only two months, and I’d be home in time to start the semester.”

“That’s amazing,” he said, his voice full of pride but laced with that same hurt in his eyes. “And it explains a lot,” he murmured.

Before I could ask him what he meant, he leaned away from me, stood slowly, and walked over to Jagger, going around the bassinet to avoid me, and handed over the baby like he was deathly afraid of dropping him. “Congratulations, he’s beautiful. I think we’re going to head back and get some sleep. Are you staying here?”

“Yeah,” Jagger answered, pointing toward the little couch. “That’s where I await diaper-changing time.”

“Sweet. Then do you mind if I crash in your guest room?”

Every sweet feeling I’d had crumbled, burned, and then left acidic ashes, scorching me from the inside out. He didn’t even want to sleep in our house, let alone in the bed next to me. Fuck, the pain was unbearable.

Paisley’s eyes flickered to me, but Jagger didn’t miss a beat, God bless him. “Sure, if that’s what you want,” he said slowly.

“It is.” Josh’s tone was final, the same timbre as when he’d told me he was going back to Afghanistan. He’d made his decision, and there was no way to sway him.

Jagger handed Peyton to Paisley and then retrieved his keys from his pocket. Breathe in. Breathe out. Focus on that. Sucking oxygen through my lungs became my only thought. Everything else was too horrible to manage.

Josh thanked Jagger, took the house key, and we headed for the parking lot in silence. There was none of the confusion or anticipation of the drive here. Now there was simply a lingering sadness between us. But hadn’t he just said there would never be a time he didn’t want me? What was this bullshit? What set him off? The job offer? At least I hadn’t snuck off in the middle of the night to take it without telling him.

Anger blossomed, and I welcomed the way it masked the hurt.

Maybe I needed to change my flight, get back to Turkey tomorrow, and take the damn job. Maybe he’d screw his head on straight while I was gone…or maybe it would kill off whatever was left of us. Why was there never a right answer lately?

Twenty minutes of pregnant silence later, we pulled into the driveway. I opened the hatch before he could and brought my bag to the ground.

“Do you want me to carry it in for you?” he offered.

“No,” I snapped. “I want you to pull your head out of your ass.”

“December.”

I tossed my backpack over my shoulder and tugged on my suitcase, pulling it behind me up the stairs. I shoved the key in our door and let out a relieved sigh when it turned without sticking. The door opened soundlessly, and I walked through.

“December!” he nearly shouted as he followed me in.

“Oh, is this what it takes to get you in our house?” I asked, dropping my purse on the couch.

“It’s for the best.”

We squared off a coffee table apart. “Please, do explain how you know what’s best for us.”

“You have a job in Turkey waiting for you.”

I shrugged. “So? I never said I was taking it. I said it had been offered. I don’t make those kinds of decisions—the kind that alter our life—without talking to you. I wish I could say the same for you.”

“Are we still having this argument?” He rubbed his hands over his hair.

“You leaving in the middle of the night didn’t void the fight, Josh. It just pressed pause. You made that decision, and now you get to reap the consequences.”

“I had to go back!”

“I know that!” The shout took some of the fight out of me, and my shoulders sagged. “Don’t you think I figured it out? I get it. You came home a different person, and you told me you felt like you’d left bits of yourself there. I listened. So yes, I get it. You went to put yourself back together, to finish your mission, but you didn’t discuss it with me, you just chose and left.”

“I’m sorry that I hurt you. It was never my intention.” His eyes were soft with regret, but everything else about his posture, from his crossed arms to how far he was away from me, screamed his resolution.