The Unwanted Wife(36)

After getting settled at Rick and Lisa’s, Theresa decided to give the couple, who were walking on eggshells around her, a break from her presence by taking a nap. She was just slipping into a troubled doze when she heard the unmistakable voice of her husband coming from a distance. She frowned and sat upright, pushing her tangled hair out of her face. She tilted her head, not sure if her imagination was playing tricks on her, until she heard it again. It was Sandro, without a doubt, and he sounded agitated.

She got out of bed with some difficulty before padding to the door on bare feet and opening it slightly. This time she could clearly make out his voice.

“I had nothing to do with that story,” he was protesting. “And I’ll be damned if you keep me away from my family like this.”

“She doesn’t want to see you, Sandro,” Rick stated firmly, and there was a moment’s charged silence.

“Maybe not,” Sandro conceded quietly. “But that’s because she doesn’t know everything. I just need to explain things to her. I need to talk with her.”

“Explain what? How you’ve been cheating on her with that woman since nearly the day of your wedding? How you’ve spent every available moment with her since you returned to Italy for the funeral, while your pregnant wife waited in vain for you to call her every day?”

“I haven’t cheated on her,” Sandro growled after a moment’s silence. “Not in deed and not in thought. Not once. She knows that.”

“All she knows is that her husband left a month ago, supposedly to attend his father’s funeral, but then hooked up with his mistress and started divorce proceedings once he grasped that nothing was tying him to his wife anymore.”

“There’s a hell of a lot tying me to my wife, Palmer,” Sandro gritted. “Our baby for one.”

“Oh, please, we know how little you actually want that baby, De Lucci.”

“I want him,” Sandro said quietly, so quietly she nearly missed it. “I want them both.”

“Stop it.” Theresa could stand it no more, she waddled into the living room, where Rick and Lisa stood on one side of the room and Sandro on the other. The atmosphere was so charged that Theresa was sure her hair was standing on end. Sandro’s face tightened at the sight of her.

“Theresa,” he whispered. “This was not meant for you to hear.”

“It doesn’t matter.” She shrugged listlessly. “I’m tired…I’m so tired of all this, Sandro.”

“I know, cara, but it will get better. I promise you that.”

“I don’t see how it can.” She shook her head bitterly and he groaned, closing the distance between them in four strides before gathering her into his arms and hugging her tenderly.

“It can. It will. I didn’t file for a divorce, Theresa. I have no reason to divorce you.”

“Sandro please just—shut up!” she interrupted furiously, pushing him away forcefully. His face went ruddy but his mouth slammed shut. “If you won’t divorce me, then I’ll be the one divorcing you. I don’t want a husband who feels obligated to be with me. You have no reason to stay with me anymore. I can take care of myself, and I can take care of this baby. I don’t need you or your guilt. You’re free to leave. In fact, I want you to go.” He said nothing, merely stared down at her, with one hand squeezing the nape of his neck. His face was inscrutable, his eyes dark with an emotion that she could not read. He looked stunned, incapable of movement, and Theresa figured that he probably needed a harder push.

“For God’s sake, go back to the woman you love! Go back to Francesca.” She turned away from him, dismissing him contemptuously, but froze when he swore shakily.

“God, you are the most contrary little bitch!” he hissed. “I don’t love Francesca. I don’t think I’ve ever loved her. Maybe when I married you, for about five seconds, I believed that I did. But I was disabused of that notion pretty damned early on in our marriage. I don’t love her and I have no idea why the hell you’re so fixated on her.” She turned on him furiously, ignoring Rick and Lisa, who were watching the exchange in morbid fascination.

“Maybe I’m fixated on her because every time you go to Italy, the papers and Internet are full of pictures of you two attending the same functions, touching, kissing, dancing, or hugging! Don’t you dare insult my intelligence by saying that it meant nothing. I believe you when you say that you’ve never slept other women while we were married. But I’m willing to bet you came pretty close with her. I mean, how the hell could she be the other woman? I was the other woman. Your entire family knew it, my father knew it. I know it.”

“We’re in the same social circle, Theresa. She was always at the same functions as I am. She’s an old friend; naturally I hugged her or touched her occasionally. Yes, I danced with her, dropped a few casual kisses on her cheek. It meant nothing. I treated her as I would one of my sisters. I don’t desire her, I don’t love her, and I don’t want her! Those are feelings reserved for you…only for you.” His voice deepened and his face softened at the admission. His eyes were gentle as he registered the confusion on her face. Was he saying he loved her? And if he was…did she believe him? She wasn’t sure of the answer to either question, and a second later she didn’t really care when she suddenly doubled over in pain.

Sandro, Rick, and Lisa all surged forward in concern, but her husband got to her first. He had an arm around her waist before she could blink.

“What’s wrong?” he demanded hoarsely. Theresa grabbed his free hand in both of hers and squeezed it urgently as her entire body quivered in excruciating pain. After an eternal moment, the pain lessened and faded and she pushed her way upright, meeting Sandro’s frantic gaze with a panicky one of her own.

“It’s the baby,” she whispered in fear. “I think the baby’s coming.”

“No, no, no.” The naked panic and fear in his eyes did nothing to alleviate Theresa’s own terror. “He can’t be coming now. He’s nearly a month early! Are you sure?”

“I’ve been cramping all day but I thought it was due to stress,” Theresa moaned after the pain had subsided. “But now I think I’m having contractions.”

“Okay, it’s okay,” he soothed, automatically gathering her trembling body into a hug. “We’ll be fine. We have to get you to the hospital.”




Theresa had argued, begged, cajoled, and attempted to reason with him, but Sandro had refused point-blank to defer his position as her coach to Lisa. In the end, Lisa had declined to go in to the hospital with her, saying that it was best for Theresa to have her original coaching partner with her. Shocked and hurt by what she felt was an unforgivable betrayal, Theresa had refused to look, or even talk, to her cousin while Sandro shepherded her out to his car. Lisa had seemed to be cheerfully and deliberately oblivious to Theresa’s pointed and rather childish silent treatment, promising that she and Rick would be at the hospital soon.

“She did what she thought was best, cara.” Sandro tried to placate her en route to the hospital. She turned her head and stared out at the passing scenery, scared and angry and not really in the mood to be comforted by him. “She knew that I would have insisted and we’d have just wasted time arguing futilely about it.”

“I wanted somebody I trusted in there with me,” she said, keeping her eyes glued on the road ahead. He didn’t respond to that, but from the corner of her eye she saw his hands tighten on the steering wheel and knew that she’d scored a direct hit. The rest of the journey went by quickly, and before she knew it, she was being admitted into the elite private maternity clinic that Sandro had arranged for her months ago. She’d had only one contraction en route but it had nearly sent Sandro off the road in a panic.

Still it was hours before anything more interesting than that happened. The doctor confirmed that she was indeed in labor but reassured them that it was perfectly normal for women to go into labor a few weeks early. They were taking extra precautions because of her health issues during the pregnancy, but for someone whose pregnancy had been fraught with drama, Theresa’s labor was pretty boring aside from the intense periods of pain. Her obstetrician monitored her condition carefully and weathered Sandro’s demanding, panicked questions with admirable calm. Her contractions seemed to leave Sandro more wrung out than they did her, and he wasn’t dealing with it very well.

About five hours after her admission, Theresa found herself glaring up at her hovering husband in frustration.

“For God’s sake, go and get yourself some coffee or something, you’re driving me up the wall!”

“I won’t leave you. What if you have another contraction? What if your water breaks and they rush you into the delivery room? What if there are complications?” he asked hoarsely, his eyes dilating more with each anxious question. Theresa rolled her eyes in exasperation.

“I doubt any of those things will happen in the two minutes it would take you to leave the room and get a cup of coffee, Sandro,” she sighed impatiently.