Baby By Accident(74)
All circumstances except this one.
Because there’d been too much pain between them, most of which he’d caused. There’d been so many ugly words said, many from his own mouth. And for more than any other reason, his undeserving soul needed to know she accepted him, loved him—the reckless savage who’d gotten her pregnant, the impetuous beast who’d pushed her into marriage. His soul yearned for her forgiveness and love. He needed to have it before he laid his love at her feet. Gave his unworthy soul into her eternal care.
There were times, many times, when she’d stroked his skin in bed and smiled. Or the time when she laughed into his grin as they ate their sweets. Or the time when she’d leaned over to kiss him in front of his entire family.
Times when he’d known, when he’d been sure, when he’d waited.
But the words never came from her pretty mouth.
So, he’d waited.
Vico stared down at the diamonds lying on the black velvet. The color had reminded him of the pure-white strands in her hair, with the slight tinge of pale glint that always caught the sun’s rays.
He snapped the box shut.
Breathing in and out, he forced himself to look at the collected items in the compartment. Remind himself of whom he loved.
The pink of the lace on her bra, reminding him of the first night. The night he’d fallen in love with her passion.
The elegant, silver pen, with the date of her graduation edged in gold on the side. The one she’d left behind her in the boardroom after arguing with him. The one that reminded him of her intelligence, her wit. Of how much he loved her intelligence and wit.
The leaf of evergreen from their reception, along with one of the napkins imprinted with their names and wedding date. The slim book of Wordsworth poetry she’d left on a side table on their trip to Paris. The hair clip he’d stripped her of when he’d wanted to rile her.
Wisps of her hair clung to the clip.
He breathed in through his nose and then dropped the Bvlgari box on top of the rest and slammed the compartment shut.
That lout. That brute.
Her mother’s words. Si.
Yet the Princesse had not disagreed, had she? She had not defended him nor dissented. She had merely hummed and listened. She had not acted as a loyal wife.
She had acted like she agreed with her mother’s words.
Was her welcome false? Could he have possibly misread everything during these last months? Her laughing eyes trained on his. Her joy in his presence. Her passionate love of him at night.
Was this only his desperate love spun into pure imagination?
Turning, he walked to the bedroom door and snapped the lock shut.
He could not…he could not.
Leaning on the cool wall, he tried to calm himself.
Quite likely, she would not think to visit his bed with her mother in residence. But if she did—
He could not.
His body abruptly ached as if he’d aged a hundred years in mere hours. Maybe tomorrow it would look different. Maybe tomorrow these words will have faded into distant memory and he would feel alive again. In lust again. In…
The word, the word he’d admitted in his soul, stuck in his throat.
He was suddenly glad he’d held it back. Glad he’d decided to let things develop slowly, without pressuring her. Fiercely, painfully glad he still had his pride to cling to.
You were absolutely right not to sign a prenuptial agreement.
His brain twisted and turned around those words. Found no reassurance, only a vague and building fear. A churning, choking ugliness. He stumbled to the bed and slipped under the heavy covers.
A shiver ran through his body.
He breathed in. Out. In. Out.
This was nothing, his love roared over the cacophony of noise in his head. He was reading too much into it. He was letting his reckless, impetuous spirit leap to conclusions.
He’s not worthy of my little girl.
The truth of those words carved his heart right out of his chest. Deadened the dreams he’d allowed himself to feel during the last two months. Made him remember the reality of this relationship. The reality of how far and wide the chasm was between them.
Another truth, a truth he’d buried so deep inside he’d managed to forget, the truth fluttered in his chest like a weak little bird. Eventually, at some point, he’d hurt and damage their child. The last reflection turned to stone his belief in what he and Lise could have. Did have.
Thought they had.
The breath was ragged, rattling in his throat.
This was nothing, his love whimpered. Tomorrow it will all be nothing.
His breath choked, clung.
Tomorrow he would still love. But he didn’t know if he’d still trust.
Chapter 17
Everything wasn’t right.
Something was very wrong.
Absently pushing the hangers of baby clothing over one by one, Lise barely registered the flashes of blue jumpers and green shirts. His momma and Chi chatted at her side as they helped her find the last items for her baby’s wardrobe.