“Together,” she repeated. “I like the sound of that. There was something about you, from the very first, that called to me. The fortune-teller even predicted it. That we’d conceive. Remember?”
What he remembered was chasing down a beautiful butterfly for the sole purpose of feeling something again, and tripping headlong into an affair he’d believed would help him get back home. All he’d wished for was a sign that he’d make it back to his old self. That he might heal.
Instead, one passionate round of rooftop sex had bound him to this woman permanently. A woman who was so different from every woman he’d ever met and with whom he had to be different to even keep up.
As stakes in the ground went, she’d presented him with a doozy. A baby. The panic rose again, thick in his throat. He pushed it down.
They’d be together. They’d have a family. It was a blessing, no matter what.
“We can get married quietly.” If they didn’t have any guests, the date of their wedding didn’t have to be publicized. They might be able to hide the fact that the baby was conceived out of wedlock. Anything to avoid causing his parents public embarrassment.
His back teeth clacked together. But he wouldn’t lie to his parents—they’d have to know the truth. The vision he had in his head of sitting with Amber on his parent’s sofa and gleefully telling them about the coming grandchild shattered. Of course, it had shattered long ago.
“Married? What are you talking about?”
“You’re pregnant. We’re getting married.” Out of order. Once again.
She laughed. “Matt, we don’t have to be married to be together. Love isn’t dependent on a piece of paper.”
Love? Did she think he was in love with her? Was she in love with him?
Evangeline made him crazy. She provoked sensual—okay, downright erotic—impulses from him. Pulled his soul from the deep freeze and made it okay to say whatever he wanted. Feel whatever he wanted. He couldn’t do that forever. His life—his real life—had order and structure. No surprises. He had to get that back.
And he didn’t want to be in love.
Never again. If he was doomed to suffer forever for falling in love with Amber, he certainly didn’t want to repeat that mistake. Especially not with Evangeline, who made him feel so much. Especially not now.
How much harder would it be to love his child’s mother and lose her?
The thought of losing either the mother or the child squeezed his chest so hard, he couldn’t breathe. He cursed—was it already too late?
“A baby isn’t dependent on love, either,” he said. Harsh. But true. Neither of them could afford to keep up the fantasy they’d been living, and he needed to internalize that fact as much as she did. Real life wasn’t about mystical connections and Venetian love affairs between incompatible people.
“We’re getting married,” he repeated.
Her eyebrows came together. “Who said I wanted to get married? You didn’t even ask me.”
He dismissed her words with a wave. “That’s just a formality. Marriage will be good for you.”
Her career was over—but she could be a wife and a mother. He had to make her see that. There was so much more to consider than whether he’d asked or not.
She recoiled as if he’d slapped her. “A formality? I deserve to be asked. With a ring. And you know, something along the lines of ‘I love you and want to be with you the rest of my life.’ Try it and then I’ll give you my answer.”
She was right. He’d gone about proposing the wrong way, but God Almighty, who could blame him? This humdinger of a development had flipped him inside out.
“I don’t have a ring. As far as I knew, we were kissing each other goodbye today. I’m sorry.” He took a deep breath and slid her palm to his mouth, kissing it in silent apology before he released it. “Let’s figure out the next steps together.”
She smiled. “The first step is to remember we’re going to be happy.”
Happy. Happiness had been a sheer impossibility when he left Dallas. But Evangeline had changed that.
They could be happy outside of Venice. Evangeline was amazing, strong, resilient. Look at how she’d walked into the lion’s den of that horrific interview. Faced down the reporters. Played the piano. She could adapt to the role of Mrs. Wheeler and enjoy a life with roots. After all, they’d have a baby and a household to keep her busy and content.
She’d been searching for the next steps, and he’d give them to her. Being his wife would keep her demons away permanently, and she’d definitely become less...glittery. Then they’d gel in Dallas as well as they did here in Venice.