Stripping out of my clothes quickly, I jumped in the hot shower and leaned my forehead against the cool tiles. I tried breathing in and out slowly to ease my anxiety.
It wasn’t long before the shower door opened behind me, but I didn’t turn around. I felt his heat all around me as Marco stepped inside. I lifted my head from the tiles, my back immediately hitting his chest.
His hands drifted lightly up the curve of my waist, fingertips trailing a featherlight path over my ribs, until he was cupping my breasts in his palms. I sighed, resting my head on his shoulder, arching into his touch.
His thumbs brushed over my pebbled nipples and my lower belly rippled with arousal.
Without saying a word, Marco played my body, touching me, caressing me, kneading me. As I panted for breath, he slipped his hand between my legs and pushed his fingers inside me. I leaned my hands on the tiles in front of me and rode his fingers.
“Fuck me,” I groaned in desperation.
Suddenly Marco’s fingers were gone, my hips were gripped hard in his hands, and his cock was gliding into me. I cried out at the fullness of him inside me and reared back into his gentle thrusts.
He cupped my right breast again, pressing me back into him as he squeezed it while his other hand moved between my legs. His fingers slid over my clit, back and forth, as he continued to fuck me in slow, tormenting thrusts.
I rested the back of my head on his chest, my hands on his hips behind me, desperate for satisfaction. He pushed me toward it, until my whole body stiffened.
Marco felt it and started pumping harder, faster.
The tension inside me broke apart, the orgasm quivering through my whole body as my eyes fluttered closed in absolute bliss.
I melted against Marco and he held me tighter, his breath hot on my skin, his grunts and pants increasing as he chased his own climax. And then suddenly I felt his teeth on my shoulder as his body tightened a few seconds before his hips jerked hard with release.
He pressed me against the tiles, his body shuddering as he came inside me.
“Fuck,” he breathed, caressing my bottom.
I shivered, my heart still racing in my chest.
That had been intense.
And apparently Marco wasn’t done with intense.
He pulled out of me slowly, but I didn’t even have time to regret the loss of him before he spun me around to face him. I stared up at him to find his expression fierce. His grip on my shoulders was uncompromising. “When we were kids, I was in love with you.”
Surprise, gratification, relief, sheer joy… it all moved through me as my eyes widened at his abrupt confession.
“That never went away, Hannah.” He rested his forehead against mine. “And now that I know you again, I’m even more in love with you.”
Oh, shit. My throat closed up. I knew, I just knew, I couldn’t say it back yet.
“Ssh,” he murmured, feeling my tension. He kissed me gently. “I can wait for you to say it. I just wanted you to know how I feel. Nothing will change that.” His eyes searched mine. “Whatever that was out there, stop. I don’t want you to be sore about our past anymore. It’s done. We can’t take it back. But we have now. And now is good.”
Too emotional to form words, I just nodded and wrapped my arms around him. I rested my head on his chest, near his heart, and let him hold me as the warm water cascaded over us.
CHAPTER 18
T
he next morning, I sighed regretfully as I tidied away all evidence of our visit to the cottage. When Marco came in from putting our bags in the car and saw the uncharacteristic pout on my lips, he cracked a smile. “Back to reality.”
I wrinkled my nose. “Do we have to?”
His smile disappeared. “We have a lot to talk about when we get back.”
My stomach flip-flopped. “Why don’t we talk about it now?”
“I’d rather we talk about it back home. It’s a pretty big deal.”
“It is about your mysterious weekends, right?”
He nodded. “Yeah.”
“Okay, let’s hit the road now, because the suspense has been killing me for weeks.”
Marco pulled up outside my flat. “You go in. I’ll drop the rental off and get a cab back.”
I leaned over and pressed a soft kiss to his mouth. “Text me when you’re nearly at the flat. I’ll put the kettle on for you.”
“Sure, babe.”
I got out of the car, grabbed my bag, and ducked my head back in the passenger door, everything I wasn’t quite ready to say but definitely felt shining in my eyes. “Thank you for a beautiful weekend.”
His mouth kicked up at the corner. “It’s not over yet, Hannah.”
I reluctantly shut the door on that rather thrilling comment and hurried into my building out of the cold. As much as I loved my flat, I really did miss the cottage already. Pottering around the flat, putting on the heat, tidying up the mess I’d left in my bedroom after Marco had dropped the surprise getaway on me, I couldn’t ignore the kaleidoscope of butterflies in my stomach. I was beyond nervous about Marco’s upcoming discussion with me. In fact, it was an understatement to say I was growing a little impatient with the “family thing.” I’d even spoken to Joss about it. She reckoned Marco was waiting until I said “I love you” before divulging whatever this unspoken commitment was.
“It’s obviously important. It’s not hard to guess he just needs to know you two are serious before he tells you,” she’d opined.
“But we are serious.”
“Have you told him you love him?”
“No.”
“Then how does he know how serious you are?”
I wondered now, after he had said, “I love you,” if there hadn’t been some truth in what Joss said. We had grown much closer over the last two weeks. Perhaps Joss was right. Maybe he had just needed to know I was serious about him.
In an attempt to take my mind off it until he returned to finally clear up the whole mystery, I decided to do some housework, starting with my bedroom.
I’d barely begun when my phone went off. Assuming it was the text message from Marco, I was more than a little surprised to see Suzanne’s name on the screen. I swiped it, opening her message.
Don’t shoot the messenger. I was at the German Market last weekend and saw this. I thought it through and finally decided you needed to see it.
My heart now flipped in a much less pleasant way as I clicked on the photo attachment to enlarge it – and felt the world narrow around me.
The photo captured Marco by one of the market stalls. He was carrying a little boy and smiling at a pretty brunette who was laughing up into his face.
The little boy… he had Marco’s coloring… Marco’s smile…
The phone slipped from my hand and I felt my knees wobble.
Suddenly I was on the carpet, attempting not to throw up at the implications of the photograph. My heart was racing too hard. I couldn’t breathe properly.
I willed myself to calm down, exhaling and inhaling in measured breaths until my heart rate slowed.
Trembling, I reached for my phone and flicked open the picture again.
Suddenly everything began to make sense and I knew, I just knew, what Marco was returning home to tell me. I forwarded the picture to him so he’d know I knew too.
Suzanne just texted this to me.
It felt like forever as I waited on the floor for an answer, but it was only a minute or two at most before my phone rang. I clicked the ANSWER button.
“Hannah” – Marco sounded out of breath – “I can explain. I’ll be ten minutes.”
“Marco —”
I heard the click as he hung up.
This was bad. This was… I knew it. I was right. If it were anything else he would have explained over the phone. I knew what he’d say when he walked through that door.
Just like that, the past blindsided me, taunting me for my earlier smugness.
Not wanting him to find me on the
bedroom floor, pale with shock, I got to my feet and walked into the sitting room. I didn’t know what to do with myself. I was a jittery mess.
The buzzer went off.
In a daze, I let Marco into the building, opened my door for him, and returned to the sitting room. I frowned at the mess I was supposed to be tidying up. I had books scattered all over the flat because I was reorganizing them into the bookshelves Marco had built for me.
“Hannah.”
I whirled around to face Marco as he strode into the room, his eyes glittering, his face flushed. He was coming straight for me. “Don’t.” I held up my hands to stop him. He froze. “Explain first.”
I watched the muscle tick in his jaw. “I was going to tell you.”
“Tell me what?”
He cursed under his breath, rubbing a hand over his close-cropped hair. “That I have a son.”
The words hung heavy in the cold air. I closed my eyes against the truth.
“His name is Dylan. The woman in the picture is Leah, his mom. I was at the market with them last weekend along with Leah’s fiancé.”
Breathe, Hannah.
“You have a son?” I opened my eyes, sure the pain of that truth was blazing clear for him to see. “That’s what today’s talk was supposed to be about?”
Marco’s features were strained as he nodded. “He’s three.”
I did the calculations in my head and they took my breath away. “When you…” I was starting to shake. “When you came back to Scotland you… you knocked someone up?”
He took a placating step toward me, as though I were a wounded, abandoned dog, unpredictable but needing comfort. “Hannah, Leah and I were friends at school. Sort of. We hung around with the same people. I was back in Edinburgh a couple of months and I was still trying to sort my head out about Nonno, everything, and a friend invited me to a party. I thought loosening up might help. I got really drunk. Leah was there and she was wasted too. We hooked up.” He said it gruffly, like he felt guilty about it. “She got pregnant. We didn’t want to be together, but I’d never leave my kid the way I was left.”
He was saying it all. Explaining the situation. I heard it. I know I did. But the past was so much louder than his explanation.
“I get Dylan every other weekend and we alternate holidays, but his mom, me, and her fiancé, Graham, are pretty tight. We have a good relationship, which is great for Dyl. And Dyl…” Despite my distraction I saw a happiness in his eyes I’d never seen before. “Hannah, he saved me. You want to know why I got over all the shit my grandfather dealt me? Dylan. Everything changed when he came along. I have someone who needs me to have faith in myself so that he can grow up and have faith in himself. But also I need to have faith in myself so that he has faith in me that I’ll always be there for him.” He gave me that half smile of his I loved. “Kid thinks I’m a goddamn superhero… but he’s the one that saved me. He’s the reason I wanted another chance with you. He made me feel like maybe I could deserve you.”
I knew that was a good thing. I knew that.
But that feeling of happiness for him, that relief for him I knew was in me somewhere, was buried under a mountain of irrational fury.
“Hannah, baby, please say something. I’m sorry I kept this under wraps, but I wanted to give us a chance first. I thought if I told you right away it would scare you off, and I needed the chance to remind you how right we are for each other. I knew after last weekend that you and I are solid, so I was going to tell you today and then introduce you to Dylan next weekend. Leah already knows about you, but I needed to be sure about us before Dylan meets you. I’m sure, babe. You know that. But I had to be sure that you loved me back, that this was serious, and that we definitely have a future.”
It was the most he had said in one breath since the first night he’d come to my flat.
I stared at him, keeping my silence while I tried to keep a lid on my emotions. Something like panic flickered in his eyes. Beautiful eyes. Eyes I loved.
Eyes I wanted – no, needed – gone.
I searched for a semblance of numbness to get me through the next five minutes.
“Hannah —”
“I don’t want kids,” I said dully, holding on to the numb sensation.
Marco blinked in confusion. “What?”
I took a step toward him, trying to herd him out of my home. “I don’t want kids. Ever.”
He narrowed his eyes. “You’re a schoolteacher.”
“So?” I shrugged, my expression carefully blank. “I don’t want kids. Mine or anyone else’s.”
“Hannah, just take a minute. We need to talk about this. This is us.”
Looking him directly in the eye, I replied with calm and authority, “As of right now there is no us.” The calm slipped somewhat. “You should have told me you had a son.”
Suddenly my upper arms were gripped in his hands, his body brushing mine, his face close. “Why are you acting like this? This isn’t you.” He gave me a little shake, as if trying to loosen me up, get back to something that made sense.
It worked.
I wrenched out of his hold, my face twisted in anger. “You don’t know me.” I shoved him, stumbling away from him. “Obviously.”
“Goddammit. I can’t believe this shit.” His voice lowered to a growl. “You’re not even going to discuss this? Just… we’re over? After everything? After spending the best few weeks in the fucking history of weeks, you’re seriously showing me the door without talking it through?”
Struggling not to let my rage and pain explode all over him for fear I might actually do physical damage, I clenched my hands into fists at my sides and held on to self-control. “This isn’t a little thing, Marco.” The self-control was slipping already, my voice climbing higher on every word. “You kept a son from me. A son! And yes… we are over! You lied!” I panted, shuddering from the weeping wounds inside me. “I don’t want kids. I certainly don’t want yours. So get the fuck out of my life and stay there.”
If I hadn’t been so tightly clasped inside the past’s vicious grip, I might have faltered in my resolve at the expression in Marco’s eyes. The incredulity. The loss.
Then his face tightened with his own fury.
He leaned into me, eyes sparking with fire as he hissed in my face, “It’s a good thing I did keep Dylan away from you, because I wouldn’t want him around whatever shit this is.”
Wearing a look of disgust, Marco turned around and stormed out of the flat.
I jumped at the sound of my front door slamming and immediately swayed with dizziness. My hands groped for the couch to steady myself.
I took a few shallow breaths.
My feet started to move, walking me through a fog, cold little pinpricks of nausea covering my face. I reached the bathroom and lifted the lid on the toilet seat seconds before I threw up the past…
The wind was bitter and bracing on North Bridge. It whipped my short hair back and stung my cheeks. It felt good.
I smiled at Cole as he walked beside me. Jo was just a little ahead of us, talking on her phone to Cameron.
Three months ago. Well, just under. That’s how long since I saw Marco – my last image of him was India Place… that horrified look in his eyes as he dressed and then hurried from the room. I didn’t expect to hear from him after he’d taken my virginity and then rejected me, but after four weeks of nothing I finally went to ask after him at his uncle’s restaurant. Imagine my total and complete heartbreak to learn that he’d left for America weeks ago. Without saying good-bye.
My family and friends had noticed my despondency. They were worried. I was worried. When I didn’t feel numb, I felt like crap. I’d had a sickness bug that I couldn’t seem to shake, and I had pains. I didn’t feel like myself and I knew if I didn’t go to the doctor soon, my parents would force me to.
Everyone was taking their turn with me. Trying to cheer me up. Today was Jo and Cole’s turn. Cole and I were friends, not close friends since he was a ye
ar younger and we went to different schools, but I found his presence soothing. He didn’t ask a lot of questions, which was always nice when you didn’t have a lot of answers.
Jo grinned over her shoulder at us and murmured something into her phone.
“What do you think she’s saying right now?” Cole squinted against the winter sun.
Fall From India Place Page 20
