“I don’t cheat.”
“Okay, fair enough, but that still doesn’t explain why you haven’t been married before.”
“I was waiting for the right woman.”
She snorts. “And that happens to be me?”
I cock my head, looking at her blonde hair. It’s still in a bob, but quite a long one, and it’s tucked behind her left ear. If she was mine, I could kiss that ear. Whisper words I’ve always wanted to tell her. “Would it shock you if I were to say yes?”
Her eyes widen. “Stop mocking me!”
“I’m not.”
“You could have any woman you wanted! You can’t possibly want me!”
“Why is that such a strange concept for you? We’ve known each other for a long time. I asked you out ten years ago because I wanted you, and that hasn’t changed.”
“I don’t—”
“It’s not just about sex, Wren. I like you. I need somebody at my side, someone I like and trust. And I want it to be you. Is that so incredible?”
Her jaw hangs, like an open drawer nobody’s remembered to shut.
“You turned me down,” I state. “Made it clear you thought I was too young for you. And it stung, I admit. I tried to put you out of my mind. But I never forgot you.”
She sips her wine, her eyes cautious.
“I was caught up with studying then, though,” I continue. “It didn’t come as easy to me as it did to Caesar and some of the others. I worked damn hard at uni. And then the company took off. Everything changed. My world exploded. Dad needed us, and he threw us all in the deep end. I didn’t have time for anything else except work. And then the next thing I heard, you’d gone to Australia, and I thought that was that. Gradually, I grew more comfortable in my role at the company, and yeah, I admit, I haven’t been a monk. I’ve had a lot of fun. But I’m twenty-eight now, and my father was right—I need to start thinking about the future.”
“And this is your chance to get your hands on your one true love?” Her eyes dance over the rim of her wine glass as she takes a sip.
“It’s true that neither of us is interested in playing the dating game, but that doesn’t mean it’s purely transactional. You can pretend it’s practical if you like. I’m not.”
She lowers her glass and studies the pale liquid in it.
We’re quiet for a while. I look out at the street, with the people passing by, carrying parcels, with their partners, their children. I’ve done little else but work for the past ten years, and I’m ready for something more.
Wren’s afraid of letting someone else in. But I know what I want, and I’m not afraid of a little hard work to get it.
“I know you’re frightened of getting hurt again,” I say more gently.
“That’s right.” She lifts her beautiful blue eyes to mine. “And you think you can play the devoted husband, but how long would that last? Weeks? Months? And then it’ll just be me, broken hearted again, but with a baby.”
I know what’s at the root of this. I remember her words from the night of the ball.Clearly, I’m not enough to keep guysinterested.Her father left her. Three partners have cheated on her. She doesn’t think men stay. With her, anyway.
“Caesar still hasn’t said no,” she says. “And I don’t want complications. I just want a baby.” Her eyes gleam, and she swallows hard, dropping her gaze to the table.
I need to change tack. She’s not interested in me declaring I’ll be a faithful, loving husband.
“Okay,” I say, “if you’d rather keep it as a business transaction, let’s do that. You want a baby. I’m offering that and more. Stability. Security. Two things every child should have.”
“I have a job. I can look after my own child.”
“That’s true. But what about after your maternity leave ends? You’ll have to pay for childcare and a good school.”
“I happen to have faith in our state education system. You went to a state school,” she reminds me. “You always said your father told you it kept you grounded.”
“True. But I had private tuition for several subjects. Money opens many doors. What about healthcare?”
