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He withdrew, running his fingers down his face. “What? No.”
“But it’s still less than ideal, isn’t it?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest. A twinge of self-defensiveness underpinned her voice. Shit, he hadn’t meant to hurt her or to offend her in any way.
“I’m a single father right now, and in many ways, that’s less than ideal. Parenthood brings a lot of pressure that’s best shared between two people, whatever genders they may be. Two men or two women,” he said honestly. “Doesn’t mean one person can’t do it alone and excel at it. It’s just harder.”
“Not everyone is that lucky to have a perfect family.”
Boy didn’t he know it. As a kid, he worshiped his father, only to lose him after his mother’s injuries. For the longest time, he’d thought he was to blame—because he’d been the culprit of his mother’s scars which drove his father away. But his mother had told him much later his father had cheated on her throughout the marriage, and she managed to keep it from Damian. His perfect family had never been perfect to begin with. “I know. You’re a spectacular mother, the best one I’ve seen. Libby is a strong, smart girl because of you.”
“Thanks, I guess,” she said, but the pain in her eyes remained.
“I didn’t mean to offend you.” He swam to her and squeezed her shoulder. “You’re amazing, Brit, and if I didn’t—”
She put her hand on his shoulder, then took it away. “That’s not it. Sometimes, I get the impression you have the view of things, of how people should be or behave, and you’re set on them. And someone like me will never measure up.”
His throat clogged, her words ringing in his ears.
“Maybe it’s because you’re a surgeon and—”
“It’s not because I’m a surgeon,” he cut her off, his heart drumming in his temples. “Violet had the same complaint about me. I’m sorry. I don’t want to be a judgmental asshole. After my father left my mom, I focused on being the best I could be for her,” he said, remembering the nights his mother cried quietly in her room. “I wanted to be a certain way as a husband and father.” To be better than that bastard who left us.
“Sometimes life is messy and complicated. It doesn’t always follow the guidelines, but that doesn’t make you a bad father or husband,” she said. Kindness touched her chestnut eyes, and she gave him a tentative smile that carried the comfort of a well-worn sweater. “You’re doing a lot, and you’re doing it well. But you don’t have to do it all.”
A strong emotion welled up inside him, tightening his face for a moment. Tears pricked behind his eyes, but he blinked them back, too overwhelmed to deal with them. He should create some space between them, or perhaps look away so she wouldn’t see him at his weakest. But what she said struck a chord with him. Stirred sensations he’d avoided for a long time.
He held her gaze, allowing himself to be vulnerable in front of her, and more bare than when she’d seen him naked. She erased the distance between them and hugged him tight. The touch didn’t have an ounce of sexual promise, but he embraced her back like some unexpected wave would come and take her from him otherwise. He dipped his head down, sighing into her wet hair, and wishing that moment would never end. Wishing no wave would come crushing to take her away from his arms. Ever.
