The Unwanted Wife(23)

“How can you expect me to make a promise like that?” he asked hoarsely. “I am not a casual observer, Theresa! I have a vested interest in both you and the baby.”

“You signed away your rights to us before you ever had us,” she reminded bitterly, and he flinched slightly at her words. “And you seem to expect me to not only forget that little fact but forgive it too? Sandro…I will never forgive you.”

“I thought you understood what an untenable situation I was in.” He shook his head angrily.

“I understand and I sympathize, but that does not change the fact that the person I thought I loved, the man I married in good faith, never existed. I just don’t think I’ll ever be able to get past that, Sandro.”

He sighed heavily.

“Fair enough,” he conceded. “But we need to make the best of this situation in the meantime and living like strangers in the same house isn’t the best solution.”

“Fine,” she whispered reluctantly. “What do you suggest?”

“I would like to be present at your doctor’s appointments,” he said after a long pause, and she hesitated, slanting a helpless glance at her cousin, who shrugged slightly.

“Why?”

“Peace of mind,” he responded succinctly, and she frowned, trying to think about it from all angles before sighing quietly.

“Fine, but your opinions and input are not encouraged or desired. So you’ll be there as just an observer, a silent observer. I will manage my own health and pregnancy.”

His jaw clenched in displeasure, but he kept his mouth shut and nodded reluctantly. “I also think…” His voice was slightly hoarse and he paused to clear his throat before continuing. “I also think that living in the same house and never seeing each other is, well…ridiculous, actually. Please stop disappearing when you know I’m home. It makes me feel like a monster, knowing that you’re cowering away in some corner of the house because you’re afraid to face me.” He couldn’t have chosen better words to get her back up, and she bristled furiously.

“I do not cower,” she seethed, barely aware of the amused look he exchanged with her cousin.

“It certainly feels that way to me,” he responded. “I know that you find it difficult to be around me because of the feelings you once had for me…”

She gasped in outrage.

“…And I also know that with the attraction between us, you’re probably afraid the chemistry will flare up and we’ll wind up in bed again. I mean it’s fairly obvious how much you want me but…”

“I…you…” She was absolutely furious with him for bringing up their sex life in front of her cousin and appalled to discover that he thought she was hiding from him. Like some timid little rabbit. Okay, so maybe she had been hiding, but she had been doing it to keep both of them comfortable with the awkwardness of the situation. “Oh my God, the colossal ego on you! I’m not cowering or hiding or anything like that. I just can’t stand to be around you.”

“Of course you’d say that now.” He shrugged dismissively and she gasped again, furiously rocking little Rhys back and forth as she desperately tried to find a suitably scathing response to his words.

“Anyway,” Sandro murmured, “I was going to suggest we start having breakfast and dinner together again. No point in having separate meals.”

“Fine,” she snapped grudgingly.

“And can we try to be civil?” he asked pseudo-meekly. “Have a decent conversation while we’re having our meals?”

Her eyes snapped but she merely nodded, silently telling herself that it would be for just six more months.

“Anything else?” she asked sarcastically, her tone of voice definitely not inviting any more of his “suggestions,” but he chose to take her question at face value.

“Yes…” He nodded. “The Friday night gang was wondering where you’d disappeared to. The ladies were disappointed when you didn’t come again.” She said nothing, she couldn’t do it…she quite simply wouldn’t do it.

“I-I can’t,” she admitted softly. “They’re your friends, and when we divorce…well, they’ll still be your friends. I don’t want to form ties with people when I know exactly how temporary the relationships will be. I can’t keep saying good-bye to people I care about.”

He swallowed before nodding slightly.

“Then one last request,” he murmured, leaning toward her intently.

“What?”

“Two hours.” His voice had dropped to a husky whisper.

“What does that…?”

“In the evenings.”

“Two hours for what?”

“Just to…” His face clenched in frustration and he shrugged helplessly. “Spend together. Talk, watch a movie, read, sit…anything, as long as we spend it together.”

“But that’s…I don’t understand why you’d want that?”

“Please.” The word, soft and pleading, stayed the rejection hovering on the tip of her tongue.

“Two hours, three times a week,” she found herself stipulating against her better judgment. Still, enforcing some kind of restriction on his request made her feel like she had some measure of control over the way things were going. He nodded eagerly.

“Name the days,” he invited, and she nibbled at the lower lip, giving it some serious thought.

“Mondays, Tuesdays, and Thursdays.” She deliberately chose his busiest office days, the days he often trudged home much later than usual, hoping that it would force him to cancel a lot of the time. His sharp eyes told her he knew exactly why she had chosen those days, but he grinned and nodded.

“Fine with me,” he acquiesced, and she sat back feeling like she’d been manipulated somehow. Lisa reached out to take Rhys from Theresa.

“I’ll just put this little one to bed,” the other woman said quietly, and Theresa nodded numbly. She felt completely drained and looked it too. Sandro sat down on the sofa and leaned toward her, very gently nudging the glass of orange juice in her direction again. She shot him a warning glance, and he grinned slightly.

“I’m not trying to bully you into drinking a glass of orange juice, Theresa,” he said softly. “I just thought that you looked a bit parched.” She gritted her teeth and sheer perversity kept her from picking up the glass and quenching her thirst. He said nothing further, merely leaned back in his chair with a soft sigh.

“So what did the doctor really say yesterday?” he asked after a pause.

“I’m slightly anemic and that’s what’s causing the dizziness. He adjusted my diet to include more iron,” she responded quietly, and he nodded.

“Everything else is normal?” he asked after another short pause.

“Yes.”

“You’d tell me if it wasn’t?”

“Yes.”

He seemed satisfied with her answer and smiled slightly. “Thank you.”

She sighed and nodded an acknowledgment of his thanks. She leaned over to pick up the glass of orange juice, conceding that her childishness would achieve nothing, and took a thirsty sip. Fortunately he made no comment and his expression remained neutral. Again there was silence, and this time it lasted until Lisa returned. Things were surprisingly amicable after that, and Theresa and Sandro left about forty minutes later.

On the way home, she asked him about his private talk with Lisa, but he refused to be drawn into a conversation on the subject, and Theresa eventually gave up in frustration.




The following month sped by. Theresa and Sandro’s new arrangement worked well, their meals together were civil, even pleasant, and her doctor’s appointments were less of an ordeal with Sandro’s silent support. He kept his end of the bargain, merely observing and never interfering. Still, just having him there made such a difference to Theresa’s sense of well-being.

What surprised Theresa the most was how much she was enjoying the time together that he had requested. Contrary to her expectations, he hadn’t cancelled once. Instead he came home earlier than usual on the designated nights. Sometimes they simply sat side by side in the den, sharing a bowl of popcorn and watching a movie, rarely saying much. Sometimes they would play Scrabble and Theresa usually enjoyed those nights very much. It wasn’t often she got to beat Sandro at anything, and to his profound horror he was appalling at Scrabble. He blamed his lack of prowess on the fact that English wasn’t his native language, but he approached every rematch with a never-say-die determination. Unfortunately said determination hadn’t yet resulted in a victory for him, and Theresa was delighted by the fact that she was a better player than he was.

Despite his lack of skill, he played hard and often had her in stitches with his creative spelling and blatantly made-up words. They also had an ongoing chess rivalry and were a lot more evenly matched at that game. Theresa soon discovered that she was starting to look forward to those three nights a week and hated the fact that he was insidiously creeping beneath her defenses again. Unfortunately, much like a car accident, she could see it coming but couldn’t seem to find a way to prevent the inevitable disaster from occurring. She was always very strict about the time, trying hard to maintain some kind of control over the situation and whatever they were doing, unfinished or not, had to stop exactly two hours after it had started. They usually picked up where they had left off the next time anyway.