Aaron turned to look at his wife, who rested her head against his shoulder, cradling their son. She had increasingly sought comfort from him, but he wasn't sure why. Was she merely fulfilling her wifely role, or did she genuinely like him, even a little? She had recently paid him a backhanded compliment—she wanted one of their children to resemble him.

He hoped they looked like her, because he loved her. So, what was her logic? Was it simply because she found him attractive? That seemed too shallow.

His curiosity had gnawed at him, especially as her dependence on him grew with her pregnancy. Did she like him or not? He wanted to ask but feared her answer.

Perhaps she relied on him solely due to the stress of pregnancy, and he happened to be there for her. Maybe she felt she had no one else. Hadn't that been the basis of their unusual understanding at Cameron's wedding? They had concluded they needed to support each other because they were the only ones who understood each other's situations.

Aaron had accepted long ago that she wouldn't reciprocate his love. He just wanted her to stay. But what if she'd changed her mind?

He didn't want to get his hopes up, but she had been very affectionate lately. She had softened towards him once; could it happen again?

"Keeley, do you like me?" he blurted.

She yawned and snuggled closer, as much as she could while holding Kaleb. "What kind of question is that? I wouldn't have married you if I didn't like you, babies or not."

He realized she'd misunderstood. He didn't mean "like" as a person. This was juvenile, but he needed to be clearer.

"I mean like-like me," he said lamely. It sounded even stupider than in his head.

Keeley stiffened. "Is that really necessary? I thought we had a good thing going."

"We do, I'm just curious. Because sometimes it seems that way."

She was silent for over a minute—not a good sign. She was definitely going to reprimand him.

"I like spending time with you, and I think you're a good husband, but aside from that…I honestly don't know," she said finally. "I think too much has happened for me to even be sure of my feelings anymore."

Her answer was so unexpected that he held his breath. Once he could breathe again, he realized she might be wavering. Maybe she did like him deep down.

"That's okay," he said.

They had time—endless time stretched before them. If she felt this way after less than a year of marriage, she would fall in love with him again eventually, right?

Her confusion gave him more hope than he deserved. He didn't deserve this happiness. He finally had a family—a real one, filled with warmth and laughter. It felt too good to be true.

He sometimes wondered when the other shoe would drop. Things had been going too well. He'd never been lucky.

He tried not to think that way, but it was difficult after everything. Keeley wasn't the only one scarred by their past lives. Now that he had her back, he was terrified of losing her again.

Though he reassured her he could keep her safe, he didn't know what to do about Lacy Knighton. Staying home with young babies wouldn't be difficult, but what about later? She was stalking them; she'd figure it out eventually, especially once he told his father the truth, claimed his 10% of the promised shares, and ousted him. News would spread like wildfire that Aaron Hale was married with children.

He was still considering when to do this. The next board meeting was in three weeks, but was that too soon?

Ideally, he'd resolve the Lacy problem before revealing the truth. That would best protect his family. Consulting his dummy shareholders about the timing might help.

"Is it really okay?" Keeley asked, snapping him out of his thoughts. "All this time, it hasn't seemed fair to you. Sometimes I feel pretty guilty about that."

She had nothing to feel guilty about. Her conflicted feelings stemmed from his past mistakes. That was on him, not her.

"It's not about fairness. You have nothing to feel guilty about," Aaron said honestly. "I'm just glad you're here."

She would never understand how much he'd missed her, both when she was dead and when she was afraid of him. Having her back was more than he'd hoped for.

"That almost makes me feel worse," she sighed.

Aaron wasn't sure what to say. Why would that make her feel worse? She had to know how much he loved her by now. He told her constantly.

"How many times have I told you there's nothing to feel bad about? I know what I did. I'm dealing with the consequences of my own dumb decisions. That isn't your problem," he said firmly.

"I don't deserve your devotion."

He rested his head on hers. "Yes, you do. You should have had it all along. Please don't feel bad about this, sweetheart."

She mumbled she'd try, then fell silent. Aaron realized she'd fallen asleep, still holding the baby. He kissed her hair.

Someday he would convince her she had nothing to feel guilty about. But for now, they both needed healing. At least they could do it together.

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