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‘We won’t ever speak of divorce again, Christy. And don’t pretend you don’t want me.’
Oh, she wanted him. How could she pretend otherwise when her nipples were pressing hard against the soft fabric of her scrub suit and her mouth was still swollen from the ravages of his kiss?
She wanted him. But how did she explain that she needed more than the physical when his solution to every problem was sex? He was a red-blooded, Mediterranean male with a high sex drive. She’d known that right from the first. Had loved the fact that he couldn’t get enough of her.
And the fact that he’d made it clear that his thoughts were only for the children caused her intense pain. The kiss hadn’t been about her, she thought miserably. It had been about the children. Alessandro was Spanish, through and through. He believed utterly in the sanctity of the family.
He would stay married to her for the sake of the children.
Could she do the same? Could she stay with him, knowing that he didn’t love her any more?
‘We can’t talk about this here, Alessandro,’ she croaked. ‘Not now.’
His eyes dropped to her mouth and the tension rose between them.
‘When, then?’
‘I don’t know.’ She felt so shaky and miserable that she didn’t feel up to another confrontation. Didn’t feel up to listening to more evidence that he was determined to save their marriage for the sake of the children.
‘Well, it has to be soon.’ He was standing close to her. So close that her heart rate increased alarmingly.
Was it normal? she wondered. Was it normal to be married to someone for twelve years and yet still want to rip their clothes off at every opportunity?
‘I need to go home and prepare dinner,’ she said huskily as she dragged off her gloves and washed her hands, seeking any excuse to turn away from him. ‘Mum’s dropping the children in an hour. Are you joining us?’
She expected him to tell her that he was staying at the hospital but as she risked a glance at him she collided with his hard, unyielding gaze.
‘Sí.’ His Spanish accent was more pronounced than usual. ‘I’m joining you, querida. I want to eat dinner with my children. Why wouldn’t I?’
The children.
It was all about the children, she thought dully as she washed her hands and walked out of the room.
As a couple, they didn’t exist any more.
Checking that her parents were still seated at the dining table, Katy grabbed her brother’s hand and dragged him upstairs and into the spare bedroom. ‘It’s time to interfere.’
‘What’s interfere?’ Ben started playing with his toy aeroplane and Katy snatched it away from him and held it out of reach.
‘Interfere is when you try and help someone do something they should be doing for themselves.’ She threw the aeroplane onto a chair and grabbed his hand. ‘Come on. We’re going to bounce on the bed.’
Ben tried to jerk his hand away from hers. ‘I was playing with my aeroplane.’
Katy rolled her eyes. ‘You can play with it again in a minute, but for now we’re going to bounce.’
Ben eyed the bed doubtfully. ‘We’re not supposed to jump on the beds.’
‘And when has that ever stopped you?’
‘I’ll get into trouble with Mum.’
‘And if you don’t do it, you’ll get into trouble with me,’ Katy informed him sweetly. ‘Take your pick.’
‘I do like bouncing.’ Ben looked at the wide bed with something close to yearning. ‘Come on, then. Just a quick one. How hard do you want me to bounce?’
‘Just hard enough to break it,’ Katy muttered under her breath, slipping off her shoes. ‘I’ll help you. Come on.’ And she leapt into the middle of the bed and started jumping, her dark ponytail flying around her shoulders as she leaped higher and higher.
Ben gave a delighted giggled and climbed up next to her.
