The nights grew longer. Anaisa held Ewan as much as she could, seemingly enraptured with his tiny baby features.
Trace watched her with unaccountably potent emotion. When she smiled at the infant, her face seemed to be lit from the inside with joy. It was nigh irresistible.
Images filtered through his thoughts. He pictured her, standing and looking at him, half a dozen children of varying sizes holding to her skirts, the littlest in her arms, all looking like blends of Trace and his wife.
Longing. He finally named the feeling.
He longed for that future with Anaisa. Things didn't progress between them, other than the fact that she grew more comfortable with his casual touches. When he held her hand, she would entwine her fingers in his. When they handed items back and forth, they both lingered a moment.
But while they were awake, they were with other people, and they never slept at the same time.
