ROSA DIDN’T KNOW how to answer him. Her instinctive response had been that she could take care of herself. But that didn’t seem like the best option any more. Not when she wasn’t the only one she needed to think about.
Her hand immediately went to her stomach, and she gripped her shirt there. She felt his gaze on her before her eyes caught his, and again something shifted between them. She opened her mouth, but thunder boomed above them and they both looked up.
The sun of that morning was gone and the clouds were now an ominous grey.
‘Why does it feel like everywhere we go there’s a storm brewing?’
‘A metaphor for the way things are between us?’
‘Aaron...’ She stopped when she saw the smile on his face. Felt her own follow. ‘Was that a joke?’
‘I’ve been known to make them,’ he replied seriously, and her smile grew.
‘Really? By who?’
‘Everyone.’ He looked up when the thunder boomed again, and held out his hand as they turned back. She took it without saying a word. She deserved this, she thought. She deserved this short period that had somehow turned light-hearted. That had somehow turned into a normal day for them.
‘Everyone?’
‘Everyone. I’ll probably get the mid-year award for office jokester tonight.’
She snorted. ‘Maybe...if everyone who used to work there has been fired and replaced by a bunch of morticians.’
‘Are you saying I’m not funny?’
‘No. I’m just saying that there are funnier people in the world.’ She paused. ‘In the country. The city. This conversation.’
She laughed when he sent her a look, and the rest of the walk was in companionable silence. She hadn’t expected it, but she was enjoying it.
Though she shouldn’t be, she thought. She had to speak with him. She had to share what she’d realised earlier that morning. It would entail putting her cards on the table. All of them. Except now, there seemed to be more cards than what she’d started with. Cards she hadn’t expected.
Ones that held his laughing face, or the serious expression he’d had when he’d been trying to convince her he was funny. Ones that held that quiet, caring look he’d had when he’d asked her about who would look after her, or the annoyed expression he’d had when she’d said she’d been fine and obviously hadn’t been.
Cards that reminded her how in love she still was with her husband.
They arrived at the house just as the sky opened and rain poured down. She settled into the couch as Aaron put on a fire, and felt the tension build as she prepared to be honest with him.
‘How are you feeling?’ he asked when he sat beside her.
‘Okay.’
‘Are you sure?’
Something in his voice had her frowning. ‘Yeah, why?’
‘Because I’ve been thinking,’ he said softly, and her breath caught when she met his gaze. ‘And I don’t want to think any more.’
In a few quick movements she was on his lap, his mouth on hers.
* * *
He shouldn’t have done it. And if he had been thinking properly he wouldn’t have. But, as he’d told Rosa, he was tired of thinking.
He didn’t want to think about how her leaving that evening sat heavily on his chest. Or how he couldn’t stop thinking that he needed to convince her to stay. How he couldn’t stop wanting to help take care of her, even when he might not be the best person to do so.
He didn’t want to think about how close taking care of her and taking responsibility for her were. Or how much that reminded him of his mother.
He didn’t want to think about the baby.
He didn’t want to think about being a father.
He didn’t want to think about his father.
He only wanted to kiss her.
And so he had.
She made a soft sound in her throat when their lips met, and it vibrated through him as his mouth moved against hers. As he savoured the taste of her—a fire, a sweetness, a combination of the two that made no sense unless he was kissing her and tasting it for himself.
She shifted so that her legs were on either side of his and tilted her head, both movements allowing their tongues to sweep deeper, allowing their connection to become more passionate.
She kissed without reservation. Without the heaviness that had always weighed each of his actions. The only time he did anything without reservation was when he was with her. When he was kissing her. Because then the only thing that mattered was that he was kissing her.
And that was the only thing he thought about.
About their lips moving in sync, and their tongues taking and giving. About the stirrings in his body, of his heart. Even in this physical act—in the touches, caresses—there was emotion. Memories. Reminders of why he’d fallen for her, and how hard. Reminders of what they’d shared and, now, of what they’d created. Together. Always together.
They were better together.
He fell into the kiss when that made him want to think again, and let his hands roam over the curves of her. He couldn’t get enough. Of kneading the fullness beneath her skin. Of the bumps there, the faint feel of her stretch marks beneath his fingers. It had never been enough. It never would be. And so he took, letting his hands speak for him. Letting his touch, his kiss, say what he couldn’t.
And when she pulled back, her chest rising and falling quickly, he let his hands linger on her hips, ready to take, to give when she gave the word.
But when her eyes met his he knew that that wouldn’t happen. No, the anguish there, the agitation told him so.
‘I made a mistake,’ she whispered as tears filled her eyes. ‘I made a mistake and I don’t know how to fix it.’
Let me fix it for you, he thought, but didn’t say. Instead, he lifted a hand to her face and let his heart take the lead. For once. ‘What mistake?’ She shook her head and he took a breath. ‘The baby?’
‘No.’ A tear fell down her cheek and he brushed it away. ‘No, not the baby. You.’ His throat closed. His breathing stopped. And then she said, ‘I shouldn’t have left you, Aaron.’
A long time passed as his lungs figured out how to work again.
‘How... Why...?’
It was all he could manage.
‘I was scared. And I realise that now because I’m just as terrified. More.’ She squeezed her eyes shut and more tears spilled onto her cheeks. ‘I left because I thought I was protecting you. But I was just deciding for you.’ She wiped her tears away, and his hand fell back down to his lap.
‘I have an anxiety problem. Struggling to make decisions—being unable to trust them—is only a part of that. Another is being afraid I’m going to get sick like my mother did. That I’ll suffer with being unable to trust my body. That some day it’ll betray me anyway.’ Her voice had lowered to a whisper again. ‘I’m scared, Aaron. I’m scared that this baby will be born into the same kind of world I was born into. That he or she might go through what I went through. That because of me—like me—they’ll worry excessively about things they don’t have control over too.’
Her eyes lifted to his, the lashes stuck together because of her tears. ‘I’m scared that you’ll become indifferent to me like my father was to my mother. That this—’ she gestured between them ‘—will never happen again once you realise that the uncertainty, the anxiety—the sickness—might not go away. That you’ll stop caring.’
She’d barely finished before he pulled her closer, tightening his hold on her. He understood now that leaving him, protecting him, had been her way of trying to prevent that he’d stop caring for her.
He hoped that his embrace told her she didn’t have to worry. That he would always care for her. That he’d be there for her whether she was sick or not. And that their kid would be too.
But he knew that this time actions weren’t enough. So he loosened his hold and, when she pulled back, took her hands in his.
‘You’re right. You did make this decision for me and it wasn’t the right one.’ He paused. ‘I know that part of the reason you left was because you thought you were protecting me. But I don’t need protection. Not from this.’
‘But—’
‘Rosa,’ he interrupted. ‘My mother’s sickness hit me so hard because...our relationship was difficult. Finding out she had cancer made me realise she was my only family. So I fought for that.’ He took a breath. ‘I lost some of myself because of it. I can see that now. But you helped me find that part of myself again. Because of that, I can be there for you. Through whatever happens.’
He struggled for his next words, unsure of how to make her see what he saw. ‘Everything that happened with your mother was...terrible. But you chose to stay. Even though it was difficult, and you sacrificed a lot because of it,’ he said when she opened her mouth to protest. ‘Even though now you’re still living with the effects of it. You stayed because your mother meant something to you. There’s nothing wrong with that.’
She blinked, and another tear made its way down her cheek. It fell, dropping to his lap before either of them could brush it away.
He wanted to say more. He wanted to tell her that she meant the world to him. That he’d asked her to marry him because she did, and that he’d stand by her side for ever—that he was strong enough to—because that was what he’d vowed to do on their wedding day.
But he couldn’t make that promise to her. How could he stand by her side for ever when he knew he wasn’t enough for her? When his genes carried things like his mother’s flightiness? With his father’s disregard for family?
And how the hell was he supposed to be a father when the only thing he knew about fathers was that they weren’t there?
‘Aaron?’ she asked with a frown. ‘What is it?’
The doorbell rang before he could answer.