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Worried she might be feeling sick, he hurried upstairs to her bathroom, looked about for her brush.On the bench next to the toothpaste stood a large glass filled with...He picked it up to inspect more closely.Thinking at first he wasn’t right.But he was.A couple of dozen pregnancy tests—the blue lines showing in the little windows.
He turned at the soft footfall.Cally stood in the doorway.The gentle colour in her cheeks had deepened.A lot.He looked back at the bench and saw another five or so boxes of pregnancy tests.All with two tests in them.Why the hell did she need to do another ten tests?What was going on?
‘How many do you need to do?Isn’t the morning sickness enough?’
Anger flared in her eyes together with that desperate look she sometimes had but more often hid.‘I told you, Blake.This pregnancy is a miracle.And I can’t believe it.I get up every morning and do a test because I can’t believe it.And I won’t believe it until I’m over thirty-five weeks and this baby is big and healthy and safe and ready to be born.’
She snatched the glass from his hand and set it back on the bench.‘I don’t care if you think I’m neurotic.I cross off every day.Every long, slow damn day.’She sighed, resigned, regretful.
It was as if some greater force had grabbed his spine and was plucking at it malevolently.Suddenly he realised he had no more power than a puppet.‘But you should be enjoying being pregnant.’
‘I know.’Her brown eyes reflected longing.‘I wish I could.This is probably it for me.But until I hit viability and well beyond, I just can’t relax.’
Instinct made him reach out and tuck her into his arms.Wishing there were something he could do to make things smoother for her.Hating the realisation that there was nothing he could do to ensure everything was going to be okay.There was nothing either of them could do.It was down to fate.Not a nice feeling.Blake didn’t like the feeling that things were beyond his control.That might make him vulnerable.That might make him suffer, and Paola had caused him sufferance enough.
‘I don’t think you’re neurotic.’He was the neurotic one with his control thing.He ran his fingers through her shiny hair.‘I think you’re brave.’
As he spoke the words the truth of them rang deep.She’d given so much in this last little while.And he saw how much of an iron dictator he’d turned into.He had given her no options.He’d told himself he was going to protect her, but how much help had he been?He hadn’t given her the kind of support she needed.Not really.He’d been too busy thinking the worst and fighting off the lust.Now he knew better—that she was honest and that there was no point fighting the lust.It didn’t seem to want to go away.
He’d had no idea the degree to which she’d been worrying.God, he wanted to make it all right.He wanted to make everything be all right.But he had no idea how.So he did the one thing that would make them both feel good immediately.He kissed her.Knowing this was one way he could help her.One way he could take her mind off the things neither of them could control and at least give her physical fulfilment.
Later in the morning he sat at the table on the deck, working at his laptop and looking over every so often, like every thirty seconds, to where she read a paperback.She was lazing on a lounger by the pool, wearing a sheer, flowing ensemble that had his blood nearing boiling.He squinted at the computer screen.Focus.
She tossed the book into the water with an overarm throw that really wasn’t bad.
He grinned, happy to have the excuse to talk.‘It was that good, huh?’
‘It didn’t have a happy ending.’
Restlessly she rose and headed towards him.He closed the lid on his laptop with relief.
For the latter part of the afternoon he returned to the office.He figured it was probably a good thing because no way was he accomplishing all he should from home.He wasn’t able to take a break from work—not at the moment when he was in the midst of a big deal in the US.But the night with Cally had been more of a honeymoon than he’d dreamed.There was a peace between them now.The deal was done and they were reaping the benefits.And, physically, there were many benefits.
On his return to the house he headed straight to the kitchen from where there sounded bangs, crashes and a hell of a lot of curses.
He stopped in the doorway, blinked at the chaos.Jars, tins, pots, pans, all manner of utensils, in fact he thought it might even be every kitchen utensil he owned scattered from one end of the room to the other.
In the middle of it all stood Cally, clearly hot, sticky and tired.The unmistakable defiance in her face had him pushing pause on the rebuke that had automatically sprung to his tongue.
‘I’m working on some new recipes.Working,’ she underlined.‘And don’t you dare tell me I can’t.’
He shrugged, refusing to agree to anything just yet.‘Soup?’
‘I’m over soup.’
He fiddled with one of the jars of spice.‘What, then?’
‘Sauce.’
He shot her a look.‘I like saucy.’
A hint of a smile, but she still looked defensive.
He moved nearer.‘Why are you looking so aggro if this is what you want to do?’He put his arms around her, felt satisfaction when she leaned back to rest against him.‘What’s really going on?’
‘I need something to do.’She turned in his arms and he pulled her hips close to his.‘I can’t just sit around all day wondering if this is the day I’m going to lose this baby.I need to do something to pass the time because I’m so damn scared it’s all going to come crashing down around me.’
He read the frustration and fear in her face and instinctively tightened his grip.‘Okay, so you’re going to mess up the kitchen, then.What’s the immediate problem?’
