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 walk
ed, 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.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
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—’
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