“Dry one?” Vic raised an eyebrow. He took a piece of the bread and plopped it down in his bowl.
“My grandmother, Marjorie, God rest her soul, was from Aniston, Alabama. Her cornbread was not sweet like mine. One day, my dad had requested that I make it because he was missing her cooking and he knew she had taught me her recipe. Kian had some of it and practically threw it up.” She chuckled.
“Dad, it was nasty.” Kian made a face.
Vic laughed.
They began eating the meal. The conversation was always driven by Kian who was sharing his day with them. Tachina and Vic laughed at his stories. Vic loved this time with Kian and listening to him. He wished his father would have had moments with him like this growing up.
But Graham Maxwell had spent all of his time building up the empire that Vic now ran.
His thoughts turned to the times he’d sat at his owntable with Kian and Sydney for dinner. Sydney had insisted that the chef come every day to cook lavish meals for them. Tony had been very thoughtful and would make Kian kid-friendly meals.
But the conversations hadn’t flowed like this.
Vic enjoyed the meal immensely. His gaze kept going over to Tachina who offered him a small smile when she caught him staring.
“I’m full. Can I go watch TV?” Kian was already getting down from the table. For what it was worth, the kid had put away a decent amount of the food he’d been given.
“Sure, and don’t climb on the couch arms,” Tachina said.
“Okay!” Kian shouted as he raced off.
It was amazing how much energy the kid had. Vic shook his head and settled back in his seat. He reached for his napkin and wiped his mouth.
“So,” he said.
“So…” Tachina eyed him nervously.
They stared at each in silence for moment. She bit her lip with and watched him. He hated to see her nervous. She was always calm and kept her shit together. Professionally. Socially. Even when giving birth. She’d had more composure than he had.
He leaned forward and rested his arms on the table.
“I thought about what you asked me,” he began. He paused, his heart racing.
Her eyes grew wider, and he would have sworn she’d stopped breathing.
“And I’m…agreeing.”
“Wait…you are?” Her voice ended on a squeak.
“I am.” He nodded. He’d thought long and hard about it. They did have a good thing between them. They had a smart, loving child already who was loved to the ends of the world. Their situation may not be ideal, but it worked for them. “But I have some terms.”
“Terms?” She echoed. She leaned back, curiosity burning bright in her eyes. She cleared her throat. “What kind of terms?”
Vic ran his hand over his jaw and felt the familiar pull between logic and instinct. He didn’t think his terms were out of the ordinary. He’d thought of when she had been pregnant with Kian and wanted things to be different this time.
“More nights over with you and Kian,” he said. “I want to be there during the pregnancy this time. I feel like I missed a big chunk of things with Kian. The appointments, the little milestones of his growth, watching the baby kick your stomach, reading to your stomach…it’s hard to explain, but I don’t want to miss out on that again.”
His words were met with silence. Her mouth opened then shut. Her eyes misted over as she stared at him.
“I understand. I wish I would have involved you morelast time. I didn’t want to burden you with what I went through.” She lowered her eyes and exhaled.
“But you weren’t a burden. It took two of us to create that little boy,” he said quietly. “I wasn’t there for you enough like I should have been.”
The air stilled between them. He wished he could go back in time and just volunteer to be there with her, but he couldn’t. The only thing he could do was be there with the next one.
“And I want dates. Not romantic dates,” he quickly clarified at the rising of her eyebrows. “For bonding for me and you. Next time we would be able to have a connection. This one won’t be an accident. I want to be able to experience the whole thing.”