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And now, he imagined her dressing in that damned gown and felt an impatience he could only process by denying it. He’d chosen the dress because the colour was perfect for her, and because when he’d touched it he’d imagined her wearing it, he’d known she would need to wear it without a bra, and he hadn’t been able to imagine a world in which Alessia hadn’t had the damned dress. Now, he wanted to storm into her room and demand to see her – so he did the opposite. He dressed calmly, proving to himself he could easily conquer his need for her. Then he went downstairs and poured himself a scotch, pulling an ipad from a shelf and loading up his emails. He responded to a few, lifted his gaze to the clock for about the tenth time in half as many minutes and finally decided he’d done enough proving to himself.
He reached into the pocket of his tuxedo, checking the box was still there. It was.
Feeling like the worst kind of fool, he made his way through the lounge room, up the ancient stairs that led to her room, noting with displeasure that the carpet had frayed again halfway up. He’d have it ripped out and replaced before the baby arrived – repairing it wasn’t enough, and he’d never let anything happen to their child.
Their daughter. Emotions slammed into him, emotions that made him feel weak and vulnerable, emotions that could almost make him feel as though he were beginning to rely on other people, to allow his happiness to be dependent on them. It was something he’d known since childhood he’d never allow to happen.
This wasn’t that.
Alessia was an old family friend, and if he was going to make a go of his marriage to anyone, it was to Alessia. They were well-suited. A perfect match, in many ways. Physically, intellectually, and in terms of their families and backgrounds. He was grateful to her, and yes, he was even grateful for how things had turned out, despite the fact six months ago he would have said children were a mistake he never planned on making.
He knocked on the door and waited, wondering why he was holding his breath. He forced himself to exhale normally.
“Come in?”
He pushed the door inwards, and his breath seemed to experience the opposite problem, coming too fast, as though he’d run a marathon.
His low whistle was unplanned. “You look…” he couldn’t find words. The dress was stunning, but even in his wildest fantasies, he couldn’t have imagined this. She wasn’t just beautiful, though she was that – and then some. The dress flattered every single delectable curve of her body, sculpting her breasts, her stomach, her rounded rear, so she looked like an incredibly breath-taking homage to femininity and fertility. His mouth was dry and he allowed himself the luxury of simply staring at her, taking everything in. Beyond her beauty though was her vibrancy. Her eyes were sparkling, her cheeks glowing. She wore barely any makeup, and her blonde hair had been simply styled in a low bun, elegant and simple, but the impact was enough to knock him sideways.
“On second thoughts, let’s stay home,” he muttered, thinking the last thing he wanted to do was take her out to be ogled by God knew who.
She laughed, shaking her head, the simplicity of that gesture sparking something inside of him.
“No way, buster. This dress is too gorgeous to be left at home.”
He could have said the same about her.
Instead, he moved closer, appraising her as an artist might a newly painted canvas.
Her eyes were mysteriously shy. “She did a good job.”
“Who?”
“Whoever chose it.”
“I chose it.”
Alessia startled visibly. “You chose this dress?”
His frown showed bemusement. “I chose all of your clothes.”
She looked towards her wardrobe uncertainly. “You went dress shopping for me?”
He lifted his shoulders. “Why not?”
“I just…didn’t expect that. You’re busy.”
“You’re my wife.” He said it as though it were simple, when he knew it wasn’t. Because she had a damned good point – why had he set aside a morning of his day to wander Via dei Condotti looking for clothes for Alessia? Because this pregnancy was as much his responsibility as hers and buying her clothes was a simple way to make things easier for her.
“But it’s…”
He waited, a smile curving his lips.
“Perfect,” she finished with a shake of her head.
He reached into his pocket, pulling out the flat velvet box. “Not quite.”
“No?” She angled herself towards the mirror, studying her reflection, so she didn’t see the jewellery at first. But he held it closer and her eyes caught it in the reflection, tracing the outline of the exquisite diamonds.
