“He reports everything back to you, does he?” she said, already knowing the answer. “I didn’t have time to shop, that’s all.”
Tate considered her. “You should eat more now. You could do with a little extra weight.” He stared a moment more, then lifted his glass to her. “To us.”
She could do with a drink of water rather than more alcohol. “You don’t have to toast us, now that we’re alone. It’s not a proper wedding, Tate.”
“Isn’t it?”
She gave a soft gasp. “You don’t mean—”
His face closed up as he put down his glass. “No, I don’t mean that at all. I won’t be sleeping with you tonight, Gemma. Not tonight, nor any night in the foreseeable future. I don’t know if I can.”
The ability to speak deserted her. He disliked everything about her and didn’t intend to overcome it, not even to exercise the physical desire they’d once shared. Regardless of her fear that she’d be a pushover if they were to make love, a deep hurt rolled through her. It was one thing to know he had a grudge against her. It was quite another to realize the depth of his animosity.
She raised her chin with a cool stare. “I didn’t ask you to sleep with me, Tate, but at least leave me with some dignity. I may not be the perfect wife, but you don’t have to make me feel like I’m something that crawled out of the gutter.”
He stiffened. “I’m sorry. I just don’t want you thinking I might be tempted, that’s all.”
She managed a cynical smile. “Oh, believe me, I know you’re not tempted. But I’m not interested either. So rest easy, Mr. Chandler. Your virtue is intact.”
“I’m glad we’ve made that clear.”
“Perfectly.” Willing her hands not to shake, she reached to serve herself some of the vegetables and meat, even though her appetite had disappeared. Tate had said they’d start as they’d go on, and she would make sure she did. Today, tomorrow—it was all about Nathan. She would remind herself of that as often as she could.
They didn’t talk much as they ate, except for a few things about the wedding. Tate mentioned giving Peggy the night off after such a long day, but Gemma didn’t think for a minute he had any ulterior motives.
It seemed a long meal and one she didn’t look forward to repeating night after night. It would only remind her of other dinners during their affair when conversation had been easy and led straight to sex.#p#分页标题#e#
Finally they’d finished dessert. She was just about to refuse coffee and make her escape when Tate drew a plain white envelope from his pocket and slid it along the tablecloth.
Her brows drew together as she picked it up. “What’s this?”
“The results of the paternity test.”
The envelope almost fell from her fingers. Then she saw it was sealed. She looked up. “You haven’t read it?”
“No.”
Could he be saying he was prepared to take her word that Nathan was his? Her heart thumped as she asked the question. “Why not?”
“I wanted to prove I would marry you without knowing the results and without taking your word for it. That’s how sure I am Nathan is my son.”
“I see.” He hadn’t married her because he believed her. He’d married her because he’d believed in himself, in his gut feeling that Nathan was his son. Nothing else. He was saying he didn’t trust her—not even with a truth he himself believed. She’d known Tate felt this way. She’d accepted it. But she felt a fool for doubting it for just this instance.
“Aren’t you going to open it, Gemma?”
She hesitated, not because she didn’t know what it would say, but because she was still trying to pull herself together.
“It doesn’t matter to me if you open it or not,” he continued. “The results are still the same.”
She had no doubt, but she had to read it—for Nathan’s sake. She quickly opened it, scanned it, then passed the sheet of paper to Tate.
He didn’t hesitate as he took it from her. Didn’t hesitate as he read it and said easily, “He’s mine.”
It was a statement of fact.
“Yes.”
He sat in the chair and nodded, almost to himself, looking pleased but not surprised. Then he began tearing the paper in half, then quarters.
Her eyes widened. “What are you doing?”
“We don’t need to keep any proof.” He let the pieces sprinkle down on the tablecloth.
Her forehead creased. “But don’t you want your family to know the truth?”