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“Right.” Annnnnd add disappointment to the emotions cascading through me.
He pushed his hand through his hair. “We have to be careful. If this goes wrong, I could lose my career.”
Fuck. “I understand. Of course you can stay. Crap. I never would have agreed to all of this if I’d thought your career could be at stake.” There was a definite edge of panic to my words.
He put his hands on my upper arms, rubbing gently, reassuringly. “I’m sure it’s just routine. This’ll all be over before we know it."
His touch did confusing things to my insides, so I stepped away. “Let’s hope so.” He didn’t say anything more, but his gaze flicked over me. I folded my arms across my middle, feeling weirdly exposed in my pajamas and dressing gown. “I’ll show you where you can keep your stuff.” I led the way to my bedroom, feeling a stupid stab of relief that I’d made the bed that morning. Going to my wardrobe, I hurriedly pushed my clothes aside so that half the hanging rail was empty, then bent down to scoop my shoes to the side too. When I was done, I turned to look at him over my shoulder, about to say something, but then lost my train of thought. Had he been checking out my ass? I straightened up hurriedly, fluffing my hair for some stupid reason, and wordlessly gestured to the space I’d made for him.
“Thanks.”
“I was just about to make a cup of tea. Have you eaten dinner?” I turned away, heading towards the door.
“Yeah, I grabbed something quick on the road.”
“Okay. Would you like a cup of tea? Coffee?”
“Tea would be great.” I left him to put his clothes in my wardrobe, carefully avoiding thinking about how that made me feel, and went to the kitchen.
I made the tea and for some dumb reason put it on a tray with a little jug of milk and bowl of sugar, like some proper English butler or something. When I got back to the living room, Dante was already there, staring down at the open sketch book I’d put down on the coffee table when he’d knocked at the door. There, in all its glory, was my sketch of a little baby. Putting the tray on the table, I quickly flipped the sketch book closed. “It’s a funny habit I’ve gotten into. I feel so shit all the time but imagining the baby makes it feel worth it. It’s a form of compensation, I guess.”
“I’m sorry.”
There was a world of meaning in the simple sentence that I didn’t know how to respond to, so I just stood there, gazing at him. I wanted to apologize as well, but also reassure him that it would all be okay in the end. Problem was, I needed that reassurance as much as I suspected he did. The silence dragged on, until I felt it pressing on me. “It’s fine.” Pathetic response, but oh well. “How do you take your tea? It seems stupid that I don’t know, but I don’t think I’ve ever made you tea before. Or have I?” Becoming ridiculously fixated on minute details was a new habit. Great. My hands shook a little as I poured milk into my cup.
“I don’t drink tea often, why would you know? Black for me, thanks.”
I handed him his cup, then retreated to the furthest corner of the couch, tucking my legs under me. Dante sat at the other end and we both turned our gaze to the television. I tried to think of something to say, some conversation starter that would make it feel less strained, but my mind was a blank. I finally came up with “How’s work?”Brilliant, Cooper. Just brilliant.I had no idea what Dante actually did for work. Obviously, he flew planes, but that didn’t seem to be something you’d do on a day-to-day basis.
“It’s good.”
“That’s great.”
“How about you?”
“Great. I’m working on an audit for NASA, which is pretty cool.”
“Great.”
“Yeah.” Jesus, could this possiblybeany more awkward? If I didn’t hold the memory of Seattle so tortuously clearly in my mind, I’d wonder how we ever managed to make a baby together.
“Lucy…” He began. When had he stopped calling me Lucia? Fuck, I missed that.
“Yeah?”
“Are you upset?”
Oh god, he was going to want to talk it through like a couple of grownups. I took a sip of tea to buy myself a bit of time. “No, not upset as such.” He didn’t say anything, or prompt me further, just sat there gazing at me, his face carefully blank. “I’m just… Confused, I guess.”
“Right…”
“Aren’t you?”
“Of course I am. It’s not like I’ve ever fake married anyone before. There’s no briefing for this.”
“Exactly.”
“We just have to make the best of it, I guess?”
