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‘Come on.’ He forced one leg in front of the other, but his hand still reached for hers as he led her around the building he’d somehow known she would love to see.
The tour should have been a welcome distraction, allowing him to clear his head, but Kaspar was too preoccupied to enjoy it. He was just grateful that Archie seemed happy, throwing herself into the history and the story as though nothing was more important to her.
After that, they toured the MAK Center for Art and Architecture, the gardens at the exposition centre and another museum whose name he couldn’t remember afterwards. Yet each time she barely seemed to notice he was even accompanying her while, for Kaspar, the drive in the back of the chauffeured car was becoming a little harder with each journey. He couldn’t shake an irrational urge to jolt her, to remind her that he wasn’t just the guy who’d got her pregnant, he was her husband. Whatever that meant.
‘Where now?’ Archie asked as she glanced out the window as if she had any idea where they were.
‘Home.’
It was ridiculous how those words rippled through him, but it was only when Archie shivered that he realised she wasn’t quite as immune to him as he’d let himself believe. With mounting curiosity he watched her force herself not to react, grasping instead at the first thing to come into her head.
‘You mean that incredible house you own with the stunning views? Though I couldn’t describe it as a home.’
‘By which you mean...?’ he prompted when she stopped talking with a strangled sound.
‘Forget I said anything.’
He knew he should do precisely that. Let it go. It wouldn’t do any good to encourage the kind of conversation they’d had the other night. Yet he couldn’t just stay silent. He wanted to know what she thought. It mattered to him.
He didn’t care how dangerous that sounded. At least it was something more than the trivial conversations they’d been having recently. He told himself he was being foolish. But that didn’t seem to matter at all.
For her part, despite all the biting of her lip, which he was fast recalling meant that Archie was trying to bite back words she knew she shouldn’t say, Archie swivelled her head to look at him.
‘It’s hardly a home, Kaspar. It doesn’t have an ounce of heart. It doesn’t tell a visitor the slightest thing about the person who owns it. It’s a beautiful building but it’s soulless. There’s nothing of you in it.’
She was right, of course. Because that was exactly how he’d wanted it. At some point he’d come to equate being unreadable with being invulnerable. Not that he would ever have admitted that before now, of course.
‘So change it.’ He shrugged as though it was no big deal but his eyes never left hers.
As if somehow that way he could convey all the thing he couldn’t, shouldn’t, say. He told himself it was part of the plan. A necessity. To break down the barriers in order that they could grow close enough to be the kind of parents their child would need. It wasn’t about wanting to break down barriers with Archie.
He wasn’t sure even he believed himself.
What the hell was wrong with him?
‘Sorry? Change what?’ she pushed tentatively.
‘Change the house.’ He waved a hand that he was glad to see didn’t look as leaden as it felt. ‘We’re married and we’re having a baby. That place is your house too now, so make it a home. The family home of your dreams.’
‘What, to match the marriage of my dreams? I can change anything, but without your input it will just be my home in your house. It still won’t reflect you at all.’
The tone verged on hysterical. Out of nowhere, or so it felt. The words cracked out like a whip slicing through the air. He had to fight not to flinch.
‘So?’ he replied coldly, not trusting himself to say any more.
The silence was so stark that he could hear the almost silent hum of tyres on tarmac. Archie blew out a deep breath.
‘I just don’t understand you, Kaspar.’ She splayed her hands out on her knees. ‘It’s like we take one step forward only to take a giant leap back.’
‘I disagree.’
‘Really? One minute you’re telling me we won’t be playing happy families, the next you’re hauling me off to the registrar. You kiss me like we’re in some kind of epic movie, but then you don’t even look sideways at me. You open up to me finally about something that actually matters, and then you shut me out as though I have no right to know anything about you. Now you’re telling me we can redecorate your house like a real couple but you barely react when I challenge you about this not being a real marriage. Which version of Kaspar should I believe in?’
‘The movie version sounds good. This is Hollywood after all.’ He didn’t know how he managed to sound appropriately dry. Even amused. ‘This place loves a good “Girl Next Door Tames Playboy” love story after all.’
‘This isn’t a movie,’ she snapped, a little shakily. ‘This is my life.’
