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He didn’t think about it; he just reacted. He reached out and pulled her into his arms. And to his surprise, she wrapped her arms around him. Her head rested on his shoulder.
This right here—it was right. He felt calm and centered when she was in his arms. Or maybe it was because she wasn’t upset with him any longer. It didn’t matter. He just had to keep the peace. It was good for them and it was good for the baby.
When they pulled apart, he noticed the tear marks that had smudged her makeup. He didn’t say a word about it and pretended he didn’t notice. He took her by the hand, which he immediately noticed was cold.
He guided her over to the bed, where they sat side by side. She picked up something. It looked like a slip of paper. The way she held it made it seem important.
“What do you have there?” he asked.
Her gaze moved to him and then back to the paper. “It’s a picture of our baby.”
That was the last thing he’d expected her to say. The thought of seeing their baby for the first time filled him with anxiety. It would make this so real—so binding.
Suddenly he felt trapped, and the walls were closing in on him. He got to his feet and started to pace. This wasn’t how an expectant father was supposed to feel. What was wrong with him? He’d failed his family, and now he was about to fail his child.
“Don’t you even want to see it?” Elena’s voice interrupted his thoughts.
He stopped next to her.
She handed over the black-and-white photo. He stared at it. This was his baby?
He squinted, trying to make out more than a blob. Try as he might, he didn’t see anything that resembled a baby.
“What’s the matter?” Elena asked.
“Ah...what?” He wasn’t sure what to say that wouldn’t get him in more trouble.
“You were frowning when you looked at the sonogram. If you don’t want anything to do with the baby, just say so.”
Luca shook his head. He decided to leave his uncertainties about his parental abilities unspoken. “It’s just that I can’t make out the baby. It’s just such a...”
“Go ahead. You can say it. It’s a blob. I call it my little peanut. That’s the gestational sac. It was too early to make out the baby.”
“Oh.” He sat down on the edge of the bed and gave her the photo. “I thought I was missing something.”
“Just relax. We both have a lot to learn.”
It was nice to know that he wasn’t in this all alone. “I’m really sorry I made such a mess of things today with the wedding and the reception.”
She looked at him. “You didn’t. It...it was really nice. It just wasn’t real.”
“But it was real. We are married.”
“But not for the right reason.” When he went to protest, she pressed a finger to his lips. “Do you love me? Not like a friend, but like a lover with that I-can’t-live-without-you passion?”
He wanted to tell her that he did, but he couldn’t lie. He never allowed himself to love anyone. Maybe it was his parents’ numerous fights behind closed doors—fights they didn’t think anyone ever heard. But he had, and he distinctly remembered his mother saying that she wished she’d never married his father.
He’d only been ten, but that night he was certain the world he knew would never be the same. Because his mother did pack her things. She took him and his very young sister and they went to his uncle’s. He’d never thought his parents would work it out. But somehow, some way, they did return to his father in Halencia. He never did learn if his mother had married his father out of love or duty.
Or maybe he’d dismissed the idea of love when his mother had been murdered. When he learned that life ended in a split second that you could never be prepared for. He watched his father—the strongest man he’d ever known—disappear within himself and become a shell of the man he’d once been.
If that was love, Luca was certain that he didn’t want any part of it.
“No. I’m not in love with you.” His voice was soft, as though that would ease the blow.
“Good.” Elena blinked repeatedly and swallowed hard.
“Good? I didn’t think you’d say that.”
