I whispered the apology, and then tiny, warm fingers gently wiped the tears from my face.
The child's voice was impossibly tender, filled with infinite longing and reluctance to part.
I tried to grasp those little fingers, but the child's form grew fainter and fainter.
No!! In that moment, my heart felt like it was being carved out. I desperately tried to hold on—
"Baby!!"
I jolted awake from the nightmare. A dull ache throbbed in my lower belly, but before I could gather my thoughts, a gentle male voice reached me:
"Nightmare?"
James sat at the edge of my bed, his face full of concern.
"Why are you here?"
He smiled helplessly. "This is our home. Why wouldn't I be? Linda, you—"
Before he could finish, a child's shrill cry cut him off.
The next second, the door slammed open and a five-year-old boy charged in like a cannonball. "Daddy!!"
It was Delia's son, Charlie Abbott.
The boy had complained that not having a father made him a target for bullying. Without hesitation, James let him call him "Daddy" and treated him like his own son.
Charlie hugged James from behind. James asked, "Didn't we agree you'd wait outside like a good boy?"