IT FELT GOOD. That was the first thing Rosa thought when she woke up. Being home, waking up in her own bed... It felt good. The only thing that was missing was Aaron.
Her second thought was she was going to throw up, followed closely by the fact that she needed to get to the bathroom. She scrambled to it and made it just in time. After a solid fifteen-minute heaving session—her record so far—she brushed her teeth and stumbled into the shower.
The motions of it were so familiar that she had to close her eyes against the tears that burned. Hormones, she told herself. The intense nostalgia—the even more intense regret—were hormones.
It was the only way she could comfort herself. The only way she could lean away from the doubt. She had to believe she’d done the right thing. She had to.
She went back to bed after her shower, collapsing there in only her towel. The sun was shining through the glass wall opposite the bed when she clicked to clear the glass, and she almost groaned aloud when its rays hit her body, warming her skin.
She loved the light, the sun in the mornings. Loved the view of the water rippling out on the dam. She’d missed it. Hadn’t realised how much until right that very moment.
Almost as much as you missed the man you shared it with.
A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts.
‘Come in,’ she called as she sat up. She had no energy for modesty, and was glad when Aaron’s face didn’t change from its usual unreadable expression when he saw her.
But her heart did soften when she saw that he had a tray with him, and that it held the usual delights for a pregnant woman. Dry toast—butter on the side as an option—and black tea.
‘I wasn’t sure if you were awake.’
‘You didn’t hear the retching noises?’ she asked wryly, accepting the tray from him.
‘No.’ He paused. ‘Were they bad?’
‘No worse, no better.’ She took a tentative bite of the toast and, when her stomach didn’t recoil after swallowing, took another. ‘Though I am beginning to feel like I’m on some cruel reality TV show where this is a delicacy.’ She lifted the toast.
‘Torture—the new show where people who love food are forced to eat only dry toast.’
She smirked, though his words had been said with a straight face. ‘Sounds like a winner to me.’
Silence followed her words, and Aaron walked to the window, staring out with his hands in his pockets. He was wearing jeans and a flannel shirt again, and she studied him as she chewed the toast mechanically.
Something about his movements—his posture—worried her. Maybe she shouldn’t have mentioned her morning sickness. She knew things like that bothered him.
‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.’
‘You haven’t.’
‘No?’
He turned. ‘Why do you think that you have?’
‘Because...’ It sounded silly now that she had to say it aloud. She took a breath. ‘I know this is difficult for you.’
‘What?’
‘Seeing me like this.’
‘Why?’
‘You know why.’
‘No, Rosa. I don’t think I do.’ He walked back to the bed and sat at its edge. ‘Tell me.’
She set her unfinished toast aside and took another breath. ‘Seeing me sick. It must bother you.’
‘It does. But that’s because I...care for you,’ he finished slowly.
‘And because it reminds you of your mother.’
He frowned. ‘What?’
‘You can’t tell me watching me throw up, feeding me this—’ she gestured to the toast ‘—doesn’t remind you of how things were when your mother was ill. My mother suffered like that too,’ she reminded him softly after a moment. ‘I know this is...similar to the reaction to chemo. And that it must be difficult for you.’
Emotion kidnapped his once unreadable expression. It felt like an apt description when Rosa knew he wouldn’t have willingly allowed his emotions to show. Nor would he have wanted her to witness it. When he met her gaze, there was a realisation there that stole her breath.
‘When you found that lump—when you left—you were thinking about this?’
‘I told you that.’
‘No, you didn’t. Not like this.’ He stood. Ran his hand over his head. ‘You were worried that if you’d had cancer it would remind me too much of my mother.’
She had to tell him the truth. They were long past the point where she could deny it. She nodded. ‘I was protecting you.’
‘From myself?’
‘From...hurting like you did.’ She blinked, surprised at the tears prickling her eyes. ‘I saw what your mother’s illness did to you. Only realised how bad it was when you started coming out of it. I couldn’t do that to you, Aaron. It would have been my fault if I had too, because I chose not to get that test and—’
‘And what?’ he interrupted. ‘If you’d got that test, the result would have changed things?’
‘Yes.’
‘If it had been negative, maybe. What if it had been positive?’
She had an answer for him. Of course she did. She’d thought all this through. She’d known that not taking that test had been a mistake. Had known it as soon as she’d found that lump.
But when she didn’t have the words to offer him, she realised that she’d been fooling herself. That taking that test would have only changed things if, like Aaron had said, the result had been negative. There was no way she’d have been able to stay if it had been positive.
He was right. It wouldn’t have changed things.
‘I... I need to take a walk,’ she said suddenly. ‘I need some fresh air.’
He didn’t answer immediately, and then he gave her a curt nod. ‘I’ll come with you.’
‘No.’
‘Last night you almost fell over in a restaurant. I’m coming with you. Thirty minutes.’
He left before she could respond, and she sucked in air as the door closed behind him. Hoped that somehow the oxygen would make her feel better about what she’d just discovered.
There was no more running from it. She had to face things now. Not only for her own sake, but for the sake of her child. Because she was having a baby. And that baby was dependent on her.
Her heart stumbled at that, and fear joined tenderness as she finally let herself acknowledge she was going to be a mother. She forced herself to breathe, to let air into her body again. And then, when she’d managed that, forced herself to think about her reaction.
This had all started with her own mother. All the things in her life could somehow be traced back to Violet. Rosa’s decisions had been dictated by her mother’s anxiety, by her illness, and then by her death. She feared making decisions because she could never figure out whether they were right. Because she’d always been torn between what she wanted to do and what she thought she should do. And that was so closely tied to her mother too.
Was it any wonder thinking about becoming a mother herself had caused her to react so strongly?
But when would she stop using that as an excuse? When would she face that she made her own decisions now? That she lived with the consequences of them?
It didn’t matter what her decisions were, she always had to live with the consequences. Good, bad, she had to face them. She was facing them now. The aftermath of leaving her husband. Of conceiving a child with him.
And that last part she couldn’t blame on her mother. No, that had all been her.
The realisation jolted her. Made her realise the extent of the excuses she’d been making for herself. Her indecisiveness had come from fear—had led to her anxieties—because she hadn’t known how to live her life outside of her mother’s world.
But, without her realising it, she had been living outside of her mother’s world. She’d made a life with Aaron outside of it. But she’d left him because she’d blurred the lines between her mother’s world and the one she’d created for herself. And it was time that she stopped doing that.
She could no longer use her mother’s disease as an excuse not to live her life. She could no longer let it weigh down—or dictate—her decisions. She couldn’t let the fear of what had happened to her mother—what might happen to her—turn her into the parent her mother had been.
She took a deep breath as tension tightened in her body. She might know these things now, but living them... That was an entirely different thing.
* * *
They were walking in silence.
He wanted to say something to break it, but nothing he thought up seemed good enough. So he waited for her to say something. Waited for her to save him from his thoughts.
They were taunting him. Chiding him. Had kept him awake all night. And now he had the added complication of knowing what she’d meant when she’d said she’d left because of who he was.
It stripped him of every illusion he’d had about himself. And he didn’t know how to face it.
‘I’ve missed this,’ she said softly, closing her eyes and opening her arms to the sun.
It was so typically Rosa that his heart ached in his chest. Her eyes met his and something jumped in the air between them. And then he looked away, kept his gaze ahead of him, and heard her sigh next to him.
‘Don’t you get tired of it?’
‘What?’
‘Thinking so much.’
He almost smiled. ‘Always.’
‘Then why do you do it?’
‘You’re saying there’s a way not to think?’
‘Yep.’
‘I don’t think that’s true.’
‘Really?’ The challenge in her voice made him look over. ‘Because I’ve been known not to think, Aaron. And I have to say I’m pretty good at it.’
Now, he did smile. ‘Sure.’
‘Remember when I called out that guy who was acting like a complete ass at your end-of-year function?’
‘My top paying client,’ he offered dryly.
She grimaced. ‘Sorry about that. But at least I wasn’t thinking.’
‘Oh, you were thinking. You just weren’t thinking about the consequences.’
There was a beat between them, and he realised that that was exactly what he’d said about his mother. He opened his mouth to take it back, but she was speaking before he could.
‘I was thinking that no amount of money should entitle you to treat other people like they’re less than you.’
‘I think my employees would disagree with you.’
‘But you didn’t,’ she challenged. ‘You were annoyed at losing him. And yes, I’ll give you that. You had the right to be. But you didn’t disagree with me. And, if I recall,’ she added, ‘you replaced him pretty quickly with the guy who helped us get this amazing place.’
She did a twirl with her hands out at her sides. He looked around lazily, enjoying her energy, since it seemed she’d lost some of the fatigue that she’d greeted him with that morning. In fact, he hadn’t seen her like this since...since before she’d left.
Neighbours greeted them as they walked, and he nodded while Rosa waved. It was the kind of neighbourhood where people worked from home. Or ran their companies from home, he corrected himself as he took in the borderline mansion properties.
‘Hey,’ she said suddenly. ‘Aren’t you supposed to be at work?’
‘I pushed my meetings for today.’
‘No court?’
‘Not today.’ He paused. ‘The mid-year function is tonight.’
She stilled beside him. ‘Are you going?’
‘What time is your flight?’
‘Seven.’
‘It begins at six-thirty.’ He considered. ‘I probably won’t attend then.’
‘You’re their boss, Aaron. You can’t not go.’
‘I have more important things to deal with.’
‘Like dropping me at the airport?’ He nodded. ‘No, that isn’t as important as this. This...this sets the tone for the rest of the year. And it’s been a rough one.’ As if he needed a reminder. ‘Some might even say it sets the bar for your company.’ She nudged her shoulder against his.
He chuckled, surprising himself. Though a voice told him he shouldn’t be surprised. This was exactly why he’d fallen for Rosa. Because during the worst of times—the most hectic of times—she could make him laugh.
‘You have to go,’ she insisted softly.
‘And who’s going to take care of you, Rosa?’ he replied.
He’d meant who was going to take her to the airport, but instead the question came out more sombrely than he’d intended. But he realised then that he’d meant the question. And he wanted to know the answer.
Because, since the night before, he’d realised one thing: he was no longer the right person for the job.