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Zach had just shattered it.
He moved to comfort her instantly, his wide, warm hands on her hips, strong chest flanking her back.
“Pen. I know how this sounds. I know you think it’s too late...”
But that wasn’t it. This wasn’t about timing.
I love our daughter. I care about you.
He couldn’t have been any clearer about the division of his feelings—about the clearly marked boundary lines—during his proposal.
She’d believed when he’d started his speech that miraculously, she’d broken through. That during the course of this party, Zach had seen the light.
I love our daughter. I care about you.
His was a marriage proposal of convenience the first time, and now it was one of merged interests. It hadn’t come from his heart and soul. A long time ago she’d convinced herself she didn’t need romantic love. But now that she was looking at Zach, her heart twisting like a wrung-out cloth, she was certain about two things.
One, she loved him, and two, she refused to enter a marriage where Zach was only half in.
He might never leave her, cheat on her, or abandon her, but he also wouldn’t ever love her the way she deserved to be loved.
And she deserved love.
He stood behind her, his breath on her ear when he bent forward. “I know I’m springing this on you, but this is the best plan. We can have each other, have our daughter, have our lives together.”
She closed her eyes against the surge of longing in her chest. There was a part of her, and it wasn’t small, that wanted to turn in the circle of his arms and say yes. Give in to the idea that Zach might someday love her the way she loved him.
But that was a fairy tale. Her life wasn’t glass slippers and godmothers. It was pumpkins and practicality.
She turned and faced him, shoulders back, chin tipped to take in his handsome face, and spoke in her most practical voice. “We can’t be this selfish because we like to have sex, Zach.”
His head jerked on his neck like she’d slapped him instead of spoken.
“What the hell’s that supposed to mean?” he bit out.
“It means exactly what I said. We have a child to think about.”
“A child who needs both of her parents around,” he said, his voice escalating, “not one at a time at prearranged intervals.”
“Our child needs parents who love her and love each other. If we can’t fulfill both of those bare minimums, then we have nothing more to talk about.”
“Marriage isn’t good enough for you?” Zach’s cheeks reddened. “Marriage and sex isn’t good enough for you?” His voice was measured and low, but anger outlined every word.
“Is it good enough for you?”
“Marriage and sex and you? Damn straight it’s good enough. What more do you want from me, Penelope?”
She parted her lips to tell him there was so, so much more to want. So much more to marriage apart from sex and sharing a house. She and Zach could be so much more than parents. What about when their daughter was raised and out of the house? What about Penelope’s own life beyond being a mother? What about that deep, committed love she’d seen in her parents’ lives? Didn’t he want that?
“The original agreement was to untangle these knots before our baby was born. And that’s what we’re doing.” She started for the balcony door, but Zach caught her upper arm and tugged her back.
In his face, she saw a plethora of emotion. Pain. Fear. Anger. Hope.
As per his usual, he went with his standby: demanding.
“I can’t let you do that. I’m far from done exploring what we have. Sharing what we’ve built.”
She shook out of his grip. “What we have is built on a lie and an accident!”
