That may not seem that long for the people in this era. In fact, the trains had dramatically improved the traveling times, cutting them in half or more from what they used to be using horse-drawn carriages. But in his time, whenever he spent three hours on a trip, he ended up on another continent. This particular route would have taken no more than twenty minutes. So yes, he was used to speed and had grown impatient as a result.
He stretched his long legs. “It is. I don’t know what I was expecting when I rented it, but it wasn’t this much luxury. I only wanted space and to be away from the chatter of people.”
At that moment, a whistle rent the air and the train started moving with its characteristic swaying motion. Kalli retrieved a book from her purse, and he leaned his head back and closed his eyes, tilting his hat over his face. The posture suggested sleep, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep. He had never taken a nap in his adult life. But it allowed him to study Kalli from beneath his lowered eyelids.
She started scribbling in the book, which wasn’t a book at all, but a notebook or diary of sorts. She was writing by hand. Who did that anymore in their time? He didn’t know she liked to journal. What was she writing about? Their adventures in the past? It couldn’t be about their mission. They kept all those notes digitally in carefully curated logs. Maybe she was writing about them. Their affair, and whatever her feelings were about it. His curiosity sparked, he tried to focus on the writing, attempting to read what she was committing to paper, but the angle and his half-closed eyes did not make the text legible. He could tell, however, that she employed beautiful calligraphy, suggesting she engaged in handwriting often.
He studied her for a few minutes, fascinated by her changing expressions as she wrote. The occasional small crease between her eyebrows, the narrowing of her eyes in thought, how her face seemed to glow and she smiled a little right before she started writing a little faster, as if a brilliant idea had just occurred to her and she was in a hurry to capture it on the page.
The chase of emotions across her expressive face was fascinating. He could almost read her feelings just by studying her. Which was the reason he noticed as soon as the first sign of discomfort showed. Her lips pinched and her brow creased, but not with concentration. Was she a little green or was that the color of the dress reflecting on her face? Then her left hand came up to rest against her stomach. She slid the curtain to look outside, and he knew for sure. Fuck.
“Are you nauseous?”
Her gaze snapped to him, surprise in her eyes, as if she had forgotten he was right in front of her. Or maybe she had assumed he was asleep.
“A little bit,” she confessed.
“Isn’t that a sign of pregnancy?”
She rolled her eyes. “Nausea is also caused by motion, which is the most likely culprit here. I suffer from motion sickness.”
“But you didn’t have nausea on the train ride to London.”
She shrugged as if the whole subject did not matter. “It was the writing. I should know better than to write in a moving vehicle.”
“But it could also be pregnancy. Do you feel any other symptoms?”
“What pregnancy? Relax, Dariux. What do you know about pregnancy symptoms, anyway? Been around many pregnant women?” she asked sarcastically.
He narrowed his eyes. “None, in fact. But I know nausea is one ailment many women suffer when in that condition. My dear mother likes to talk about it. She loves to remind me every chance she gets what an awful time she had carrying me.”
Her face changed, then, becoming softer. “I’m sorry,” she said almost with...pity? For him? He didn’t need her pity. How had this conversation turned from her possible pregnancy to pitying him?
“Sorry for what?”
“I didn’t mean to upset you. The nausea has receded now.”
That was not what she had meant by that ‘I’m sorry.’ Was she sorry that his mother liked to rehash negative things concerning him? That she constantly reminded him of the many ways in which he had ruined her life just by his mere existence? No way. She couldn’t know that. Nobody did. Not even his mother realized what she was doing.
He had long ago learned to live with the knowledge that he had been a punching bag for his father and a burden for his mother. But that didn’t matter anymore. He was a grown man now. He didn’t need anybody’s pity.
“Dariux.” She waited until he looked at her to add, “There is no sense in getting ahead of ourselves. By this time tomorrow, we’ll know if there’s something to worry about.”
She was right. Tomorrow they would be back in their time, in their world. They could find out if they had created a life together or not. And then they could each go their own way and continue with their lives.
The knowledge did not bring him any contentment, though.
