He placed his fingers beneath her chin, his thumb moving over the fullness of her bottom lip. ‘You are far too trusting, querida,’ he said. ‘People often have nefarious motives for what they do, even the people you care about.’
‘That stuff in the paper…’ She glanced down at the scattered mess on the floor. ‘Is there nothing we can do?’
He pulled her gently to her feet, holding her about the waist. ‘Don’t worry about it,’ he said. ‘It will blow over eventually.’
She looked into his eyes. ‘Javier… You really believe this baby is yours, don’t you?’
Javier realised she was asking much more than that. She was asking for a commitment from him that he had never wanted to give before. He wasn’t sure he wanted to give it even now. How could he be sure he wouldn’t turn out like his father? But what he had begun to realise over the past few days was that being a father was not just a biological contribution. It was a contract of love and commitment with no conditions attached. His father had not been capable of going that step further. He had impregnated his mother but once she had died he had not fulfilled his responsibilities as a father. He had shunted Javier off to teachers and nannies while he’d got on with his life. This baby Emelia was carrying deserved to be loved and cherished and he was going to make sure it lacked for nothing. ‘The baby is ours,’ he said watching as her eyes shone with tears. ‘I am proud to be its father.’
‘I love you,’ she said as she wrapped her arms around him tightly.
He rested his chin on the top of her head and held her close. ‘I’m very glad that is one thing you remembered,’ he said.
She looked up from his chest and smiled. ‘I would have fallen in love with you all over again if I hadn’t.’
‘You think so?’
‘I know so,’ she said and reached up to meet his descending mouth.
Paris was enjoying an Indian summer and each day seemed brighter and warmer than the previous one. The first week they had spent wandering around the Louvre and Notre Dame, stopping for coffee in one of the numerous cafés. They had mostly been able to avoid the paparazzi, although one particularly determined journalist had followed them all the way up the Eiffel Tower steps for an impromptu interview. Javier had been extremely protective of Emelia, holding her close against his body as he’d curtly told the reporter to leave them alone. It had made Emelia glow inside to think of him standing up for her like that. It made her wonder if he was in love with her after all. She sometimes caught him looking at her with a thoughtful expression on his face, as if he was seeing her with new eyes.
The hotel Javier had booked them into was luxurious and private and close to all the sights. He even organised a private tour of the Palace of Versailles, outside of Paris, which meant she didn’t have to be jostled by crowds of tourists.
They were walking past the fountain towards the woodland area when Emelia felt the first cramp. She had been feeling a little out of sorts since the night before but had put it down to the rich meal they had eaten in one of Paris’s premier restaurants.
Javier noticed her slight stumble and put his arm around her waist. ‘Steady there, cariño,’ he said. ‘You don’t want to take a fall.’
She smiled weakly and settled against his hold, walking a few more paces when another pain gripped her like a large fish hook. She placed a hand against her abdomen, her skin breaking out in clamminess.
‘Emelia?’ Javier stopped and gripped her by both arms. ‘What’s wrong?’
She bit down on her lip as another cramp clawed at her. ‘I think something’s wrong…I’m having cramps. Oh, God…’ Her legs began to fold but he caught her just in time.
He scooped her up in his arms and walked briskly to the nearest guide, who promptly called an ambulance.
Emelia remembered the pain and the ashen features of Javier as she was loaded into the back of the ambulance and then nothing…
When she woke the first thing Emelia saw was Javier sitting asleep in the chair beside her bed. He jolted awake as if he had sensed her looking at him. Relief flooded his features as he grasped her hand and entwined his fingers with hers. ‘You gave me such a fright, querida. I thought I was going to lose you all over again. You have taken ten years off my life, I am sure.’
Emelia dreaded asking, but did so all the same. ‘The baby?’
He shook his head. ‘I’m sorry, mi amor. They couldn’t prevent the miscarriage but you are safe, that is the main thing.’
Emelia felt her hopes plummet. The main thing was he was off the hook, surely? No more baby. No more commitment. No more pretending to be happy about being a father. ‘How far along was I?’ she asked in an expressionless tone.
‘Not long, just a month, I think I heard one of the doctors say.’
Emelia studied his expression without saying anything.
He shifted in his seat, his eyes going to their joined hands. ‘I know what you are thinking, Emelia,’ he said gruffly. ‘And I know I deserve it for how I reacted to the news of the pregnancy. I didn’t exactly embrace the idea with any enthusiasm.’
‘I’d like to be alone for a while,’ she said.
He looked at her again. ‘But we need to talk about the future.’
She pulled her hand away and stuffed it under the sheets. ‘I don’t want to talk right now.’
He slowly rose to his feet as if his bones ached like those of an old man. ‘I’ll be waiting outside.’
Emelia held off the tears until he had left but once the door closed on the private room she let them fall. So he wanted to talk about the future, did he? What future was that? She had been lulled into thinking they could make a go of their marriage but he had not once told her he loved her. He always held something of himself back. She was never going to be able to penetrate the fortress of his heart. Not now, not without the baby she had longed for, the baby she had hoped would be the key to showing him the meaning of love. She had seen the flicker of relief in his eyes. No pregnancy meant he could continue with his life the way he always had—free and unfettered. Well, he was going to be much more free and unfettered than he bargained for, she decided.
‘How is she?’ Javier asked the doctor on duty when he came back from the bathroom.
‘She doesn’t want to see anyone right now,’ the doctor said. ‘She is still feeling rather low. It’s quite normal, of course. The disruption of hormones takes its toll. She can go on some antidepressants if she doesn’t improve.’
‘When can I take her home?’
‘She lost a lot of blood,’ the doctor said. ‘She’s had a transfusion so we’d like her to stay in for a few days to build up her strength. She has been through rather a lot just lately, I see from the notes.’
‘Yes,’ Javier said, feeling guilt like a scratchy yoke about his shoulders. ‘Yes, she has.’
‘Just be patient,’ the doctor advised. ‘There’s no reason why she can’t conceive again. These things happen. Sometimes it’s just nature’s way of saying the time is not right.’
Javier sighed as the doctor moved on down the corridor. He had never thought there would be a right time, and yet the right time had come and gone and he had not even realised it.
The nurse handed Emelia her discharge form with a disapproving frown. ‘The doctor is not happy about you wanting to leave so soon, especially without your husband with you. Can’t you wait until he gets here? He’s probably stuck in traffic. There was an accident in one of the tunnels this morning.’
Emelia straightened her shoulders. ‘I have been here for four days as it is. I am sick of being fussed over. I am sick of hospitals. I want to get on with my life.’
‘But your husband—’
‘Will understand completely when he hears I have left,’ Emelia said with a jut of her chin as she picked up her bag. ‘You can tell him goodbye for me.’
Emelia slipped out of the hospital, keeping her head down in case anyone recognised her. The press had been lurking about, or so one of the cleaning s
taff had informed her. That had made her decision a lot easier to make. She was tired of living in a fish bowl. She was tired of being someone she wasn’t, someone she had never been and never could be. The accident had been devastating but it hadn’t been the catalyst everyone assumed it had been. She had already made up her mind that she could no longer live the life Javier had planned for them both. It didn’t matter what his reasons were for marrying her, the fact remained that he didn’t love her. He wasn’t capable of loving anyone. And, while she loved him and would love him for the rest of her life, she could not continue living in hope that he would change.
A taxi pulled into the entrance of the hospital and, once its occupants had settled up, Emelia got in and directed the driver to the airport. She had already booked the flight via the high tech mobile phone Javier had brought in for her. It was another one of his expensive presents, one of many he had brought in over the last few days: a pair of diamond earrings and a matching pendant, a bottle of perfume, a designer watch that looked more like a bracelet than a timepiece, and some slips of lace that were supposed to be underwear. She had received them all with a tight little smile, her heart breaking into little pieces for the one gift he withheld—his love.
The flight was on time, which meant Emelia could finally let out her breath once she was strapped into the seat, ready for take-off. She checked the watch Javier had given her, her fingers tracing over the tiny sparkling diamonds embedded around the face as she thought about him arriving right about now on the ward. He would be demanding to know where she was, where she had gone and who she had gone with. She could almost see his thunderous expression, his tightly clenched hands and the deep lines scoring his forehead. But, for some reason, instead of making her smile in satisfaction, she buried her head in her hands and wept.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
EMELIA had spent the afternoon on the beach. The walk back to her father’s palatial holiday house at Sunshine Beach in Queensland was her daily exercise. It still felt strange to be on speaking terms with her father after all this time. But his recent health scare had made him take stock of his life and he had gone out of his way since she had returned to make up for the past. He had given her the house to use for as long as she wanted. He flew up on occasional weekends when he could get away from work and she enjoyed their developing relationship, even though they didn’t always see eye to eye on everything. Emelia had even made a fragile sort of peace with his young wife who, she realised, really did love her father in spite of his many faults. In many ways Krystal reminded her of herself when she had met and married Javier. Krystal was a little naïve and star-struck by the world her husband lived in and did everything she could to please him. It made Emelia cringe to witness it, but she knew there was nothing she could say.
The one thing Emelia and her father crossed swords over was Javier. Her father thought she shouldn’t have run away without speaking to him. In Michael Shelverton’s opinion, sending Javier divorce papers three weeks after she had left was a coward’s way out. He felt she should have at least given him a hearing.
Emelia was glad she had done things the way she had. She wanted a clean break to allow herself time to heal. But after a month she still had trouble sleeping in spite of the hours of walking and swimming she did each day to bring on the mindless exhaustion she craved.
She had covered her tracks as best she could to avoid Javier finding her. She’d gone back to her maiden name and only answered the phone if she recognised the number on the caller ID device. She had also organised with her father to have all mail go via his post office box address and he then forwarded it on to her.
She tried not to think about Javier but it was impossible to rid her memory of his touch. Her body ached for him night after night and sometimes when she was half-asleep she found herself reaching into the empty space beside her in the bed in the vain hope of finding him there.
Emelia came up the path to the front door of the house with keys in hand, but stopped dead when a tall figure rose from the wrought iron seat on the deck.
‘Hello, Emelia,’ Javier said.
She set her mouth and moved past him to open the door. ‘You had better leave before I call the police,’ she said, stabbing the keys into the lock.
He stepped closer. ‘We need to talk.’
She tried not to shrink away from his towering presence. ‘You can say whatever you want to say via my lawyer.’
‘That is not the way I do things, Emelia, or at least not this time around. I made that mistake before. I won’t be making it again. This time it is face to face until we work this out.’
Emelia tried to block him from following her inside but he put one foot inside the door. ‘If you don’t want to be visiting a podiatrist for the rest of your life, I suggest you take your foot out the doorway.’
He took hold of the door, his eyes challenging hers in a heated duel she knew she would never win. ‘We can discuss this out here or we can discuss it inside,’ he said in an implacable tone. ‘I am not leaving until this is sorted out, one way or the other.’
Emelia let the door go and stalked inside. She tossed her beach bag on the floor of the marbled foyer and, hands on hips, faced him. ‘How did you find me?’ she asked.
‘Your father gave me the address.’
Her eyes flared with outrage. ‘My father?’ She clenched her hands into fists. ‘Why, that double-crossing, lying cheat. I knew I shouldn’t have fallen for that stupid father-daughter reunion thing. I should have known he would take sides with you. What a jerk.’
‘He loves you, Emelia,’ Javier said. ‘He’s always loved you but he’s not good at showing it, much less saying it.’
Her hands went to her hips again. ‘So now you’re the big expert on relationships,’ she said. ‘Well, bully for you.’
‘He wants you to be happy.’
‘I’m perfectly happy.’ She put up her chin. ‘In fact, I’ve never been happier.’
‘You look tired and far too thin.’
She rolled her eyes. ‘You’re not looking so hot yourself, big guy.’
‘That’s because I can’t sleep without you.’
Something flickered in her eyes. ‘I’m sure you will find someone to take my place, if you haven’t already.’
He shook his head at her. ‘You don’t get it, do you?’
She stood her ground, reminding him of a small terrier in a stand-off with a Rottweiler. ‘What am I supposed to get? I understand why you married me, Javier. I’ve always understood. I was an idiot to agree to it, but that’s what people who are blinded by love do, stupid, stupid things. But things are different now. I left you before but the accident put things on hold. This time I am determined to go through with it. It’s over, Javier. Our marriage is over.’
Javier swallowed the restriction in his throat. ‘I don’t want a divorce.’
She visibly stiffened. ‘What did you say?’
‘You heard me, querida.’
She screwed up her face in a scowl. ‘Don’t call me that.’
‘Mi amor.’
Her eyes flashed at him angrily. ‘That’s an even bigger lie. I am not your love. I have never been and never will be. I can handle it, you know. I get it, finally. Some men just can’t love another person. They hate being vulnerable. It’s the way they are wired. It can’t be changed.’
‘On the contrary, I think it can be changed,’ Javier said. ‘I have changed. I am prepared to let myself be vulnerable. I love you so much but I refused to admit it before in case it was snatched away from me. I have been lying to myself for all this time. Well, maybe not lying—more protecting myself, just as you described. I have always held something back in case I was let down.’
She stood so still and so silent, as if she had stopped breathing.
He took a breath and continued. ‘I think I have always loved you, the real you, Emelia. You don’t have to be stick-thin and done up like a supermodel to make my heart leap in my throat. You do that just by wa
king up beside me with pillow creases on your cheeks and blurry eyes and fighting off a cold.’
Emelia swallowed. Was she dreaming? Was she hearing what she wanted to hear instead of what he was actually saying? That happened sometimes. She had heard of it. She had done it herself, talked herself into thinking she had heard things, just because she hoped and hoped and hoped someone would say them…
‘I have shut off my emotions for most of my life,’ he said. ‘Saying I love you is something I saw as a weakness. I guess I have seen any vulnerability as a weakness. That is probably why you felt you couldn’t tell me when you weren’t feeling well. I blame myself for that. I should have known. I should have looked out for you. Even Izabella has pointed it out to me, how closed off I am.’
‘I’m not sure what this has to do with me now…’ she said uncertainly.
‘It has everything to do with you, cariño,’ he said softly. ‘I have loved you from the first moment you smiled at me. I can even remember the day. It was our first date. Do you remember it? Please tell me you haven’t forgotten it. I would hate for you not to remember the one moment that has defined my life from then on.’
Emelia gave a small nod, her breath still locked in her throat. ‘I remember.’
‘You looked at me across the table at that restaurant and smiled at something I said. It was like an arrow had pierced my heart, just like Cupid’s bow. I didn’t know what had hit me. I hated feeling so out of control.’
She summoned up a frown, not quite willing to let go just yet. ‘Your father’s will,’ she said. ‘You can’t deny that it had something to do with why we married in such a rush. You should have told me about it from the start. Finding out the way I did really hurt me. I felt so used.’
He pushed his hand through his hair. ‘I didn’t even know about my father’s will until I had been seeing you for over a month. I had never considered myself the marrying kind. I had seen the way my father had ruined three women’s lives. I didn’t want to do that. I guess that’s why he wrote his will that way. It was just the sort of sick joke he would have liked—to force me to do something I didn’t want to do. Prior to being involved with you, I had always kept all of my relationships on a casual basis.’
The Mélendez Forgotten Marriage Page 15
