Christmas at the Castello(17)

"You're right," she said finally, "I didn't. I expected you to  understand the demands of my career. To let me put my future, our  future, first until that tough period was over."

"While I spent five years in a relationship with myself?" He shook his  head. "Life is too short for me to sit by while you learn the meaning of  balance, Diana. Begging for affection is not my style."

"While I was begging for support. Begging for help getting through the five toughest years of my life."

"And then what? You would have convinced Frank Moritz to give you that  fellowship and it would have been another two years of hell while you  obsessed about being perfect for him. When was it all going to end? You  have this need to prove yourself I don't understand."

"Because you run away from your need to do the same." She threw the  words at him, bitter honesty ruling her now. "You hated that your father  gave Grant Industries to Harrison to run. Instead of fighting for it,  instead of proving to Harrison you should have equal footing, you  pretended you didn't care. Well, I care. I will not apologize for  caring. I will not apologize for wanting some security in my life so  when you decide you don't want me anymore, I have something to fall back  on."

His mouth dropped open. "What the hell are you talking about?" She  slammed her mouth shut. He closed the distance between them, capturing  her jaw in his fingers. "Why would you say that? Give me one reason that  would have ever led you to think I would have left you. One."

Her gaze dropped from his. "It would have happened eventually. You were  constantly disappointed in me. I could never give you what you wanted."

His fingers tightened around her jaw as rage swelled inside him. "This  is not about my disappointment in you. This is about your history with  your parents. I worshipped the ground you walked on, Diana. I would have  done anything to make our marriage work. But how was I going to do that  when you were so busy staking out your territory so you could run the  minute things got bad?"

"It wasn't like that."

"It was absolutely like that." He let go of her jaw and stepped back  before he truly lost it. "What else did I need to do to make you feel  secure? What else, because it is beyond me?"

"You could have kept your hands off those women." She yelled the words  at him, the champagne in her glass tipping over the side in her fury.  "You could have kept it in your pants long enough to convince me that I  meant something to you, Coburn. That I wasn't replaceable as easily as  your next flavor of ice cream."

His vision clouded over as he clenched his free hand at his side. "You  walked out on me, remember? I tried to call you. I tried to make things  right and you wouldn't have me, so do not accuse me of being  unfaithful."

"Weeks later. After you'd already been with those women."

Fury tunneled through him, flaying every centimeter of his skin. "See,  that's where you're wrong. Because I can't help but remember the timing.  It was after you threw my attempts to talk in my face for about the  fifth time that I got the message and satisfied my needs elsewhere. You  made it clear you didn't want me, so I took what I needed."

She blinked hard. Stared at him for a long moment before she looked  away. "I hope she was good, Coburn. I hope she satisfied your slavish  devotion to your needs so you didn't go without."         

     



 

"I would have preferred my marriage was intact, but I didn't have that choice."

Color leeched from her cheeks. She turned away from him, rested her  forearms on the railing and drew in a deep breath. "Rehashing all of  this isn't going to help us move forward."

"I beg to differ. I'm finding it highly illuminating. Who knows? If we  put all our cards on the table, we might even find some clarity."

"With a card counter like you?" She kept her gaze on the horizon, where  the sun had sunk so low it was about to be swallowed up by the sea. Her  skin looked too pale in the dying light, her shoulders set high in a  defensive posture, her mouth a brittle line. As if a surge of wind might  blow her away.

"We should eat," he said roughly. "We can continue this conversation over dinner."

"I'm not very hungry. Maybe I'll just go straight to bed."

"You will eat." His harsh tone brought her head around. "There is no  running from things you don't like this week. We are facing them  head-on."

Something flickered in her eyes, but she didn't argue. Likely because  she knew she had to keep her strength up for the baby rather than any  form of obedience. He pulled out a chair for her at the candlelit table  Lucie had set on the deck, then settled into the one beside her. Her  gaze flicked to the chair opposite her as if she'd rather he sat there,  and it made him smile inside. Letting her get comfortable wasn't part of  his plan. Infiltrating her was.

"We need to buy a proper home," he announced, filling their water glasses.

"I heard a business associate is selling his town house down the street  from me. It actually has a yard. Maybe we should take a look at it."

Her hand paused midway to her water glass. "I'm not living in Chelsea."

"A fifteen-million-dollar townhome isn't good enough for you?"

"Not if I'm bumping into your castoffs in the park."

His mouth quirked. She'd be shocked at how few of those women he'd taken to bed. Everyone would.

"My discards won't be strolling in the park at midday."

"I'm not living in Chelsea, Coburn."

"And I'm not living on the East Side. Maybe we split it down the middle and go somewhere neutral? The Upper West Side perhaps?"

Lucie set their salads down in front of them. The scowl disappeared  from Diana's face long enough for her to give the cook a smile. It  disappeared when she left. "I need to think about it. It needs to be  somewhere central for me for work."

"You don't have a job. And you won't for a few years to come."

"You've decided that, have you?" She picked up her fork and pointed it  at him. "I have a career, Coburn. I've spent fourteen years studying to  become a surgeon. Maybe you should stay home and I should work."

"And that would make sense since you just quit your job, you're the one  having the baby who'll need the recovery time and I just took the job  as CEO of a multibillion-dollar company."

"You're the one preaching sacrifice."

"Not on this. Yes you will go back to work, but the early years for a  child are crucial. You know that better than anyone. You can go back to  work when they're in grade school."

"Grade school? That would kill my career. Who's going to want to hire me after five years away from the knife?"

"What's the alternative? Do you want our child to be raised by a nanny?"

A flush filled her cheeks. "I don't know. I need more time to think about it."

"I do. I was raised by a succession of nannies. My father worked every  waking hour of the day and my mother spent all her time laying the  charitable groundwork to be a politician's wife. I will not have our  child raised like that. We will be emotionally and physically present  for him or her."

Her hand fisted on the table. "Me working doesn't preclude that."         

     



 

"Yes it does. Your job is all consuming and you know it."

"I can work part-time."

"And how does that work out for most of the surgeons you know? Then  comes the phone call at two in the morning and you're out the door. You  need to be realistic here."

"Coburn-"

"It's not happening. You have to start acknowledging your limits, Diana. Now."

She blinked hard and stared down at her plate. He watched her in astonishment. Were those tears? Tears of anger or real tears?

She looked up at him. The stormy expression in her ebony eyes gave him  his answer. "I found out a week ago that my life as I know it is going  to change irrevocably. I gave up my dream in Africa because of it and  have agreed to give this marriage a shot for the sake of this baby. But  if you continue to push me like this, I will walk the minute we set foot  in New York and you will be talking to me through our lawyers."

He took in the defiant angle of her chin. The fierce glitter in her  eyes. She meant it. "All right," he said, holding up a hand. "I'll back  off, I promise. But we need to make these decisions soon. Finding a  house in New York is going to take time."

"Wrapping my head around all this is going to take time. Give me some space."

He proved he could by making small talk throughout the rest of the meal  and ensuring she put food in her mouth, albeit a small amount. By the  time they got to dessert, she looked as if she was going to fall asleep  in her seat. When her eyelids closed for the third time in a minute, he  pushed back his chair and stood up. "Bedtime."