I cringe a little at his words and duck my head deeper into his chest to recall the appalling way I’d behaved afterward. I’d basically told him he hadn’t been good enough and that I was going to look for a better lay.
Jesus.
“I didn’t go anywhere near ‘the Jason’.” I say wretchedly. “I mean, who the hell refers to themselves as ‘the Jason’?” I giggle brokenly, feeling his answering chuckle reverberate beneath my ear. “I just wanted to hurt you back.”
“I know. You have much better taste in men than that, dove. I was angry that…” I hear him swallow and fill in the blanks, my mouth drooping derisively.
“I’d rejected you.”
“Yes. But then I started plotting again. You see, I’m really rather manipulative, and I was so sure I could find a way to get you back. That’s why I called that night. To start laying my plans to have you come over and complete the portrait and the landscapes I’d commissioned. A deal’s a deal, after all, and I’d planned to use your sense of duty against you.”
I gasp and slap his chest lightly, giving him my most ferocious scowl.
“You’re so devious.”
“Yes,” he admits, but I see how unconcerned he is by this.
“I chased you away.”
His mouth twists at that, and I bite my lip to stifle a giggle at his scowl.
“You weren’t well. I thought if I could just get you home under the guise of looking after you, and yes, I was more than willing to play on your fears to do it, maybe you’d realize you wanted to stay. More fool me. I should have known you’re too bloody stubborn to be practical.”
“Stubborn? This coming from a guy who refused to admit he loved me till I divorced his ass?” I admonish, raising a brow.
“Well, it’s not as if you didn’t know these things about me, dove,” he points out reasonably, smirking at my frown. “Anyway. I thought it was hopeless then, that we were well and truly over, until I came home and saw those,” he says, smiling brilliantly at the portraits.
I’d depicted him the way I will always see him, with that special smile he reserves only for me, against the backdrop of a bright blue sky devoid of clouds and a shirt depicting the Sunflowers we both love so much.
It’s not the most original thing ever created, but it’s my way of telling him that I see him, just him, and not the ruthless tycoon who’d allowed my father to buy me a husband.
When he goes to speak again, no doubt ready to explain the whole shares thing and the deal that he and Daddy had struck, I cover his lips with mine and pull back, shaking my head once.
“I don’t care about that anymore. As far as I’m concerned, that did not happen. All I want is to move on from here and start our lives together, the right way this time,” I plead, showing him all of my vulnerability.
“Marry me, dove?” he begs, kissing me tenderly. “I can’t go another day without knowing that you’ll be mine. Say you’ll give me another chance.”
I could pretend uncertainty, maybe torture him the way he’d tortured me by walking out of my hospital room and not calling once, but I don’t, not when I see the naked vulnerability reflected in his mint green eyes.
“Yes.”
Epilogue
“That’s the first and absolute bloody last,” Vincent mutters at me, holding my eyes for all of a second before glancing back down in spellbound adoration. “I won’t have you suffering like that again.”
“Whatever you say, babe,” I laugh tiredly, feeling blissed out and euphoric as I watch my husband cradle our son in his strong arms.
I’ll remind him of that statement when we have sex again and he’s forced to wear a dastardly condom. A hundred bucks says he throws his morals out the door on that one.
I’d thought nothing could top the joy I’d felt when Vincent had shown me that room and revealed the endless depths of the love he feels for me. I’d been wrong, I now realize, watching him breathe reverent words of love at Caleb Allan Blake, the son I’d prayed for when I’d found out I was pregnant again.
I shudder lightly just thinking about that harrowing time of joyful hope and fear as we’d waited for the ultrasound and proof that we could finally be excited, and that the baby was where it should be and was healthy.
My pregnancy had been trying, thanks to his paranoia and massively controlling ways, but I’m not complaining, not when he’s been so lovingly overbearing, and not now, when I see his worshipful expression.
Caleb is a mini replica, my very own Vincent doll with all that hair and the definite signs of eyes that will be as green and bright as his father’s.