Crazy about Cameron: The Winslow Brothers #3(56)
“My kids?” she asked, her heart in her throat.
He flinched.
“Don’t lie to me,” she warned him, searching his eyes, with hopefulness but uncertainty.
“Fuck yes,” he whispered, the intensity in his voice strong under a veneer of self-disgust. “Of course I want to have kids with you. I’d love ten kids with you, if you want to give them to me. But believe me, I wasn’t trying to trap you into—”
“Cameron, are you under the impression that I don’t want your children? That being pregnant with your child would be . . . upsetting to me?”
He gulped, and a flash of hurt passed over his eyes, so stark and desperate, her heart clutched. “We only just got together. I know I move at the speed of light, but I can’t imagine that you would want—”
“Imagine it,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “Because there is no world, no universe in which I don’t want your child growing inside me.”
His eyes flared, widening with understanding, before he blinked at her once, twice, and then his face crumbled with emotion as he reached for her blindly and pulled her into his arms.
“Meggie,” he said softly, his breath kissing her ear as he held her tightly against his trembling body. “Meggie.”
Her name was a prayer.
Her name was hope.
Her name was love.
Her name was enough.
***
Morning light poured into Margaret’s bedroom from the doll house–like window over her bed, and Cameron breathed deeply, adjusting his grip on the woman pressed against him. After they’d assured each other once again that, although a pregnancy would be unplanned, it wouldn’t be unwelcome, they’d made love two more times, once fast and furious—a mixture of relief and celebration—and once with exquisite tenderness, staring into each other’s eyes and pledging their very lives to each other as they climaxed together in blissful delight, riding out the tremors and falling asleep in each other’s arms.
Staring at her now, he could barely believe the tremendous step forward their relationship had taken. Not only had they slept together multiple times, but, without formally committing their lives to each other, informally they’d done just that. And in no way did that commitment feel scary or premature—it just felt right. More than right, it felt essential, like he would rather die than contemplate a life without her.
He still needed to speak to Margaret about coming on board as a full partner at The Five Sisters, but in his heart he knew she would welcome him. They’d buy more grapes, buy more land, and make their vineyard the finest in Pennsylvania. They’d distribute worldwide, host beautiful events, and grow their brand so that The Five Sisters was synonymous with the world’s best wines and a Greater Philadelphia destination for the finest events. He couldn’t wait. He’d finally found the key to his future, and he couldn’t wait for it to begin.
Glancing down at Margaret’s sleeping form, he dropped a tender kiss on her forehead and shimmied carefully out of bed, unwilling to wake her. She had to be exhausted after Sunday night’s work and last night with him. He grinned wickedly, thinking about the way she’d straddled his lap, wrapped around his body, filled with his hardness and begging for more. He’d used her body hard, but she’d met his hunger, his need, his demand. She’d wanted him as much as he’d wanted her, and he’d loved the intimacy of their bodies joined together just as much as the mutual frenzy that had carried them there.
Kissing her once more, he forced himself up, stretched naked in the wide beam of light, and covered Margaret’s sleeping body with her comforter. After a quick shower, he ran outside to grab his overnight case and placed the FedEx box from Franklin on her kitchen table. He started the coffee machine before tiptoeing back upstairs to get his clothes.
“Cam?” she murmured, her voice breathy with sleep.
He sat on the bed beside her. “What, baby?”
“Why are you up already?”
He stroked the hair from her forehead and pressed feather kisses to her closed eyelids. “I’m used to walking up early. I’m going to go check out the tasting room. I’ll be back soon.”
“Mm-hm,” she sighed before rolling onto her stomach and falling back into a deep sleep.
He chuckled softly, beguiled by her in every way, then grabbed his shirt and slipped back downstairs to pour himself a mug of coffee. He walked outside into the cool July morning and made his way down the brambled path toward the winery and tasting room.
Shawn was right. The workers had made excellent progress this week.
The building was not only framed, but the roof had been covered with sheathing and felt, and the windows had been added within the frame. It reminded him of a picture he’d once seen of an Amish barn raising, and he mused that if a hundred Amish men could show up tomorrow, the whole building would likely be finished in a day. It was an enormous structure, but it would be filled with light, and as Cameron walked inside, he felt a profound sense of accomplishment and belonging.
For years he’d felt an emptiness working at C & C Winslow that was partially assuaged by the fact that he worked with his brother. But once Christopher had left the company, there was nothing that bound Cameron to the business on an emotional level. He didn’t like financial work. He didn’t see the beauty in it that someone like, say, Barrett English, saw.