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‘I think it’s beautiful.’ Her voice was almost shy.
‘It’s life,’ he told her. ‘I wanted my body to reflect growth and hope, not death.’
‘My mother told me you should visit Paris to fall in love.’ Polly changed the subject abruptly. ‘That’s why I’ve never been.’
‘You’ve never fallen in love?’
‘I’ve been in “like”,’ she said. ‘I’ve been in companionable comfort. I’ve desired.’ Did her eyes flicker towards Gabe at the last word?
His chest tightened at the thought, the blood pulsing hot and thick around his body.
‘But, no. I haven’t been in love.’ She bit her lip. ‘That is rather shameful for a woman of thirty-one, isn’t it?’
‘Non.’ The word was strong, vehement. ‘Real love is rare, precious. Many of us will never experience it.’ He’d thought he’d found it once. Had watched it slip away.
‘My mother left home when I was eight. Our father died a couple of years later but he was in a home all that time.’ Her voice faltered. ‘We found him, Raff and I. He’d had a stroke. He needed full-time care and we were a mess. My mother just couldn’t cope. People always took care of her, you see. She was one of those fragile women, all eyes and a way of looking at you as if you were all that mattered. She went away for a rest and just never returned, found someone else to take care of her.’
‘I’m sorry.’ The words were inadequate.
‘Oh, it was a long time ago, and I think I always knew. Knew she couldn’t be relied on. It was harder on Raff. He absolutely adored her. But for some reason I never forgot her words. She said she’d been to Paris before, with friends, boyfriends, but when she went with Daddy the city turned into a magical wonderland and she knew...’
‘Knew what?’
‘That she was in love,’ she said simply. ‘And she made me promise her, promise I would never go to Paris until I was sure I was ready to fall in love. It’s funny, I have spent my whole life not being my mother, not relying on anyone else, always doing my duty. But I kept my promise.’
Her mouth curved into a reminiscent smile. ‘She also told me to always wear lipstick, make sure my hair was brushed and to wear the best shoes I can afford. I never forgot that advice either.’
‘Even on the Inca trail?’
She exhaled, an amused bubble of laughter. ‘Especially then.’
‘I hope you get to Paris one day.’ She deserved it, deserved to have the trip of her dreams, to experience the world’s most romantic city with somebody who loved her by her side.
But the thought of her strolling hand in hand through the city streets with some unknown other, cruising down the Seine, kissing on the Pont des Arts, made his whole body tense up, jealousy coursing through his veins.
It was ridiculous; he had no reason to be jealous.
Jealousy implied need. Implied caring. Sure he liked Polly, respected her, was attracted to her. But that was all.
If she worked somewhere else, if she weren’t pregnant then she would be perfect—for a while. She was as busy as he was, as focused as he was, she wouldn’t want him to take care of her, to text or call five times a day. She wouldn’t care if he went away for a weekend’s training or decided to pull an all-nighter at the office.
And when she talked about the likes, the companionable comforts and the desires of her past there was no hint of regret. She moved on without a second’s thought. Just as he did.
But she was his boss and she was going to have a baby and there was no point dwelling on what-might-have-beens. Because the boss situation would change one day but the baby situation most definitely wouldn’t. And that made her even more off-limits than ever. She deserved someone who would want a family, someone to take her to Paris.
‘You may even fall in love there,’ he added.
‘Maybe.’ She didn’t sound convinced. ‘It’s a fairytale, though, isn’t it? Not real life. Because, although Mummy had that perfect moment, it didn’t mean enough in the end, didn’t stop her bailing when things became rough.’
‘No.’ There was nothing else to say.
She took out a few pins and let her hair fall, before gathering it up and twisting it into a tighter knot, a few strands escaping in the breeze. ‘It was a sharp lesson. If you rely on someone else you are vulnerable. You need to be self-sufficient, to protect yourself.’ She sighed. ‘It would be nice to meet someone who understood that, who didn’t think being independent means not caring.’
She shook her head. ‘One day I’ll go to Paris, on my own. Or take the baby.’
