Mad About You

someday, somehow. He reached over to squeeze Chad's shoulder, and the boy turned his head, but didn't pull away. Another good sign.
    "My daddy always told me it was a shame you couldn't pick your relatives like you pick your friends." Chad's hooded gaze darted back to him and Bailey shrugged. "But you can't, so I guess we're stuck with each other."
    His son pondered the words a few seconds, then asked, "Are you the only family I got?"
    Bailey reluctantly withdrew his hand, shaking his head. "An aunt, uncle, and six-year-old cousin in Ohio—"
    "A boy cousin?"
    "Jean Ann's a girl, but she's no sissy. Throws a baseball so hard it'll burn your hand through a glove."
    Chad seemed mildly impressed. "Who are those old people who came with you?"
    "They're my parents," Ginny said softly, stepping forward. "Your only grandparents, and they're dying to meet you." She smiled and wiped at her lingering tears with the heel of her hand.
    Bailey left and returned a few minutes later with Edward and Peg. Chad shuffled over to them with little enthusiasm, but surprised Bailey by shaking hands with Edward and allowing Peg to give him a hug. As he watched his son nod and answer questions, pride filled him and he struggled a few seconds with his own emotions. He wondered if his expression matched Ginny's.
    She positively glowed. Her eyes never left Chad, soaking him up like a thirsty sponge. The top of his dark head nearly reached her shoulder. At times her fingers hovered just above his skin, as if she wanted to touch him, but didn't dare. She looked as tentative around Chad as Bailey felt around her.
    Taking advantage of her distraction, he allowed his gaze to roam over her figure. He'd always loved her slender neck, and the topknot she wore gave him a tantalizing view. The fabric of the dress she wore clung softly to her shoulders and slight curves. He remembered the skin on her stomach being satiny smooth—flat muscle before the baby, stretched during the pregnancy, then softness afterward on the way back to muscle tone — his fingers had been explicably drawn to her abdomen at every stage. Her legs were long, her calves well defined, narrowing to slender ankles.
    Desire welled within him. The sexual aspect of their relationship had never been lacking—Ginny had been a warm, enthusiastic lover, at times leaving him too tired for his physically demanding job. He remembered the ribbing he'd taken at work on days he'd moved with less energy than usual.
    His prevailing memory of their lovemaking was her whispering his name in urgency. Every time he'd lain with a woman since his divorce, he'd imagined Ginny's satisfied gasp... Bailey... oh, Bailey...
    "Bailey," Ginny said, snapping him out of his reverie. She volunteered her first genuine smile since their reunion and motioned him to the table where the four of them were pulling up chairs. "Join us."
    As he walked toward them, Bailey locked his gaze on Chad and Ginny. The last eight years seemed to disintegrate. Here was his family, his son and wife, the two people he loved most in the world. Guilt slammed into him with the force of an anvil.
    He'd failed miserably at his husbandly duties. How well would he handle parenthood?

    * * *

    Virginia had never experienced such a deluge of emotions in such a short time span. As an hour slipped by, then two, her pulse finally slowed to just below the dangerous mark, only to leap again when Chad revealed some interesting tidbit about his life. In fidgety, staccato sentences, he admitted that he skateboarded, hung out at the video arcade, and could hit a three-point shot on the basketball court in his school gym. And that he liked animals, hated girls, and tolerated homework. While not exactly warming to his new family gathered around the table, Chad seemed to become less confrontational as the sparse conversation progressed.
    But he avoided all eye contact with her.
    The ceiling, the floor, and every other person at the table seemed worthy of his attention, but not Virginia. His earlier outburst still rang in her ears, but she tried to push it from her mind. And she really didn't mind his averted eyes, because then she didn't have to worry that he would discover her secret.
    She was terrified at the thought of taking him home.
    Virginia could scarcely reconcile this belligerent, gangly boy with the baby she'd carried home in her arms so many years earlier. As she watched him move and speak, she felt twinges of happiness and longing, but the