HE WASN’T EMOTIONALLY prepared to hear that Rosa wanted a divorce. Hell, he wasn’t emotionally prepared for anything that had happened in his office since he’d walked in and found her there.
He’d been on somewhat of a high when he’d got there too. The case he was working on was a particularly dirty one. The husband had more than enough money and power to force his wife into divorcing him quietly. And he would have succeeded too, if Aaron had agreed to be his lawyer.
But the moment Aaron had met the man he’d known no measure of money or power could make Aaron represent him. Instead, he’d reached out to the man’s wife and had offered to take on her case pro bono.
It had been a rocky ride—would be for some time—but that day the judge had ruled on custody. And since the husband was the ass Aaron thought he was, he’d gone for full custody based solely on the fact that his wife wanted the kids. But that day the wife had won. They’d won. And it had felt damn good.
Until he’d seen the wife he’d walked out on a month ago, found out she was pregnant and that now she wanted a divorce.
It was his own fault. He’d mentioned it before. And that had set the events in motion that had culminated in their night of passion.
But she was right. Things were hanging mid-air between them, and they couldn’t live like that for ever. Particularly not if they were going to raise a child together.
A child.
He pushed the thought aside and told himself it wasn’t the time to think about that. Or to remember how disappointed he’d been when she’d told him about the milk duct in her breast—the lump—and that that hadn’t meant she was pregnant.
One problem at a time.
Since he’d had an appointment shortly after Rosa had dropped her bombshell, he’d had to deal with work first. But they’d arranged to have dinner together that night. So they could talk about getting on the same page.
She was already there when he arrived, and he fought the feeling of nostalgia at seeing her there. The restaurant had been his suggestion—it was the first one that had come to mind. Unfortunately, it was also one they’d been to often when they were together. And often she’d be waiting for him to get there.
Except then she’d had a smile on her face. Her expression would be open, warm, as soon as she saw him. That was not the case now. His heart took a tumble when he saw her wary expression. The tightness, the nerves. He’d done that, he thought again, and then forced it aside and took his seat.
‘You came,’ she said after a moment.
‘You thought I wouldn’t?’
‘I...wasn’t sure. After what happened today.’
‘We don’t have many choices any more, Rosa. You and I are in this together, whether you like it or not.’
She winced, but nodded. She was still pale, and when the waiter took their drinks order she asked for black tea and water. Not her usual.
‘How are you feeling?’
Her eyes lifted. ‘Fine.’ They were tired. And he knew that she was lying.
‘Rosa.’
‘What?’
‘If we’re going to have this conversation, then we should be honest.’
Colour flooded her cheeks but she nodded. ‘It hasn’t been the best experience.’
‘Obviously you’re suffering from morning sickness.’
‘Obviously,’ she repeated dryly. ‘And I’m tired. Even when I wake up. Par for the course.’ She lifted her shoulders, but the gesture looked heavy and a sympathy he didn’t understand pooled in his belly. A fear too.
He frowned. ‘I’m sorry.’
She opened her mouth and then caught him off-guard with the smile that formed there. ‘I was going to say it’s not your fault, but then I realised it’s at least fifty per cent your fault.’
His lips curved. ‘I suppose.’
Her gaze suddenly sharpened, and then she released a breath. ‘It is yours.’
It took him a moment to figure out how to reply. ‘I didn’t think it wasn’t.’
She nodded. ‘I know some... Well, thank you for not doubting that.’
‘Things might not be in the best state between us,’ he said stiffly, ‘but I don’t suddenly think that you’ve changed.’
‘And changing would be sleeping with someone else?’
The air was charged, but he couldn’t tell if it was because of her words or because of the way things were between them.
‘Changing would be lying to me.’
And she’d never done that, he thought, seeing the confirmation of it on her face. At least there was that. They’d had honesty between them for the longest time. And if somehow that had changed it was just as much his fault as it was hers.
It might very well have been his fault alone.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said after the waiter brought their drinks. He waved the man away when he mentioned food, seeing Rosa recoil at the suggestion. ‘I shouldn’t have left you the way that I did.’
‘Why did you?’
‘I already told you.’
‘You told me that you left because I was going to leave.’ She was watching him closely. He shifted. ‘I don’t believe that, Aaron.’
‘You should. It’s the truth.’
‘Not the whole truth.’ She paused. ‘If you’ve changed your mind about being honest...’
He clenched his teeth and then reached for his drink, which thankfully had alcohol in it. He nearly hissed as the liquid burnt down his throat and then he pushed it aside, no longer interested in the courage it offered.
Fake courage, he thought, since he still had to steel himself to answer her question.
‘It seemed easier.’ He didn’t look at her. ‘And what we shared...was special. To me, at least.’ He paused. ‘I knew that whatever we’d say to each other about it would spoil that, and I didn’t want that memory to be destroyed. So I left.’
She took a long time to answer him. Because of that, he forced himself to look at her face. Her expression was unreadable, though her hands trembled slightly as she put some sugar into the tea in front of her, stirring the liquid much longer than it required.
‘You’re right,’ she said eventually. ‘It would have.’ The stirring stopped. ‘But then, I don’t think you leaving the next day did much different.’
She lifted her eyes and their gazes met. Clashed. But in them Aaron saw the acknowledgement that what they’d shared had been special. He didn’t know if the effect that had on his heart was good or bad, all things considered.
‘I’m sorry.’
She lifted her hand, as if to brush his apology away, and then dropped it again with a nod. ‘Okay. It’s in the past. Let’s move on.’
There was an expectant pause after those words, as if she were waiting for him to say something that would do just that. Except he couldn’t. Not immediately. His thoughts were too closely linked to the past. His feelings too.
He fought through.
The child.
‘What are we going to do about the baby?’
She’d lifted her cup to her lips, but lowered it slowly after his question. Still, her hand shook. He resisted the urge to lean over and grip it.
‘We’re going to have it.’ He nodded. He hadn’t been concerned about that. He knew where they both stood on that issue. ‘But, other than that, I... I don’t know.’
Her grip tightened on the cup and he watched as she forcibly relaxed it.
‘So let’s take it one step at a time,’ he said slowly. The temptation to make the decisions for her—to take the pain of it away from her—was strong. ‘Your pregnancy.’
‘Yes.’ She blew out a breath.
‘Where do you want to live during that time?’
‘I...haven’t thought about it. I have a flat in Cape Town. I suppose I’ll live there.’
Panic reared its head, but he reined it in. ‘Okay. Do you have friends out there?’
She gave him a strange look. ‘Yeah, a few.’
‘So they’d be able to help you through...this.’
‘I suppose. I mean—’ She broke off. ‘It’s not their responsibility.’ He waited as she processed it, and then she sighed. ‘Not this again.’
‘What?’
‘You know what, Aaron.’ She pushed away her cup. ‘You’re trying to make me think that this—that I am your responsibility. I thought we were over that. I’m not your responsibility. I make my own choices.’
‘I didn’t say that you don’t,’ he replied with a calmness he didn’t feel. Her words spoke to that inexplicable fear he’d had since seeing her on the ground after she’d thrown up at his office. After she’d told him how poorly she was feeling now. ‘But didn’t you tell me that I’m at least fifty per cent responsible for this?’
She narrowed her eyes. ‘I hate that you’re a lawyer.’
He smiled thinly.
* * *
‘So, what?’ she asked, wishing with all her might that she could wipe that smile off his face. ‘You’re saying that you want me to move back here? To go through my pregnancy here?’
‘It’s an option.’
‘No. No, it’s not.’ She shook her head, and then rested it in her hands when the movement caused her head to spin. She shut her eyes, and then opened them again in time to see a drop of water fall onto the tablecloth.
She lifted one hand to her face and realised that the water was coming from her eyes. Was she crying? Damn it, she thought, and pushed her chair back, determined to make it to the bathroom before it became obvious.
But her head spun again when she stood, and pure panic went through her when she thought she’d fall down in the middle of the restaurant. But steady hands caught her and soon she was leaning against a rock-solid body.
‘I’m fine,’ she said but it sounded faint, even to her.
He didn’t say anything, only lowered her back into her chair. Then he gestured for the waiter.
‘What are you doing?’ she asked through the spinning. ‘We’re not done yet.’
‘No,’ he agreed, his face etched with concern. ‘But we’ll continue some other time. You need rest.’
‘There is no other time,’ she said and closed her eyes. When he didn’t reply, she opened them again. He was watching her with an expression that told her he wouldn’t indulge her, and then he was speaking to the waiter and settling the bill.
Soon he was helping her up and out of the restaurant.
She wanted to pull away and tell him that she could walk by herself. But she wasn’t sure that was the truth. The last thing she wanted was to fall down and make herself look even more of the fool. It was bad enough that she was basically being carried out of the restaurant.
‘You can call me a taxi,’ she said when they got outside. The air was crisp, and it helped to clear her head.
‘You can ride with me.’
She debated wasting her energy on arguing with him, and then nodded. ‘Fine. I’m at the Elegance Hotel.’
‘You’ll stay with me.’
‘Aaron—’
‘It’s just one night,’ he said, cutting off her protest. ‘For one night you can stop fighting and just come home.’
Home. It sounded amazing, even though she wasn’t entirely sure where home was any more. And perhaps it was because that made her think of her mother and sadness rolled over her in waves. Or perhaps it was because he’d been referring to their home and longing and nostalgia went through her.
Or perhaps it was just because his face was twisted in an expression she’d never seen on him before. And the concern—the only emotion she could identify in that expression—was as strong as on the day he’d been beside her when she’d buried her mother.
Whatever it was—all of it, most likely—it had her agreeing.
‘My flight leaves tomorrow evening.’
His expression tightened, but he nodded. ‘Fine.’
‘Fine,’ she repeated as she got into his car. And then she closed her eyes and wished she were anywhere in the world but there.