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A frown dug between her brows. He was being so formal, barely meeting her eyes. Uncertainty was familiar to Alessia. She’d felt it often during their first marriage, walking on eggshells because she didn’t know how to make sense of her husband, nor what he wanted for her.
She did as he’d said, taking the seat opposite. When he reappeared, it was with a plate laden with two crispy, golden croissants, each spread generously with butter.
Her stomach groaned with hunger. “Thank you,” she murmured as he placed the plate in front of her.
“Juice? Coffee?”
Her brows drew closer together. “I can get it.”
He compressed his lips, his nostrils flaring impatiently. “Juice?”
“Fine, thanks.”
They were being so testy! She hated this! Butterflies beat their wings inside of her, filling her with nerves. She refused to feel them! She wasn’t twenty now – she was twenty five, a doctor, a woman – mature and confident. She refused to let herself be intimidated by him.
“About last night.” His voice was deep. He took the seat across from her, and now he did look at her properly, his expression business-like, as he’d been the day they’d divorced. She held her breath without meaning to, waiting for him to speak, not sure what he was going to say and not even sure if she wanted to hear.
“It shouldn’t have happened.”
Her breath whooshed out of her in one fell swoop. Even though she’d been thinking the exact same thing, hearing it from him devastated her. She wanted to rail against his words.
“You told me you wanted space, that you would need your own room, that having sex with me would make our marriage difficult for you and yet I used your body’s desire against you. I’m truly sorry.”
It was the very last thing she’d expected. She stared at him, gobsmacked – that he could feel like that making her forget any idea of re-erecting barriers between them today.
“Don’t,” she shook her head. “Please don’t beat yourself up. I wanted you – not just my body but all of me. I wish that I didn’t, but that doesn’t mean I regret what happened. And I sure as hell don’t blame you for last night, Max.”
A muscle jerked in his jaw and his features showed no sign of relaxing. The same tension radiated from him. “You’re far more generous than you should be.”
“Don’t.” Something inside of her snapped. She slammed her hand down on the top of the table, fixing him with an angry glare. “Our first marriage was a nightmare for me. I hated how you kept me at a distance. I hated how easily you pushed me away, treated me as though I were an inanimate object. If you’re going to apologise for anything, apologise for that. Not for being human, not for wanting me just as much as I want you.”
“I’ve told you, it wasn’t easy…”
“But you made it look easy. It felt easy. It felt as though I were nothing to you and at least last night, I felt…”
He stared at her, waiting for her to finish her sentence but she couldn’t. It would give too much away, show too much, even to her own heart. Instead, she reached for the orange juice he’d poured, taking a long drink, the ice cold liquid making its way through her with a refreshing burst of flavour.
But then, her stomach kicked and swooped and she made an involuntary noise of surprise, lowering her hand to the rounded shape and pressing her palm to their baby’s bottom.
“What is it?” Concern edged everything else out of his voice.
“Somersaults,” she said, and despite everything they were saying, she smiled, because the feeling was so wonderful and life affirming that she couldn’t help but glow with happiness.
“Here.” She stood up, circling the table and grabbing his hand, lifting it to her belly and pressing it against her bump. She waited, watching him, and then their baby thumped and rolled and Massimo’s eyes flew to hers, surprise etched into his features as he felt their daughter’s movements for the first time.
“Christo!” he laughed though, a soft sound filled with the same joy that was running through her. “She’s so active.”
“I know,” Alessia put her hand over his, so she could feel the next kick with him. “She’s most active at night, usually.”
A muscle throbbed in his temple, fascinating her, drawing her gaze, and waking her from the spell – reminding her of how close they were standing, of how they were touching, and what they’d been speaking about a moment earlier.
The same transformation took place within Max. He dropped his hand away, standing, his height advantage meaning she had to tilt her head to meet his eyes. “This is why we married. If you want that to be the only thing we share, I promise you I will respect your wishes.”
Long after he left for the day, Alessia stared at the spot he’d been standing, wondering at why she didn’t feel relief at his acquiescence to her wishes. Nothing with them had ever been easy – and right now it felt almost impossible.
* * *
“Affairs are complicated,” Fiero murmured, his eyes scanning Max’s face so he wanted to look away. Max took a sip of the wine then placed the glass on the table. The rest of the family were in the drawing room – yaya busily entertaining her great grandchildren with the piano. Max hadn’t felt like celebrating, despite the fact Christmas was so close at hand.
