Rosa shook her head silently as she thought it through. The rest of the appointment passed in a blur after that. It had been her second appointment—the first had been spent sharing what Rosa thought she needed help with—but already she knew that it was helping.
She wasn’t foolish enough to think she was cured. She was still anxious. Still doubted herself. And she still couldn’t bring herself to be screened for the breast cancer gene, though she was using her pregnancy as an excuse for that. So she made her subsequent appointments and patted her stomach as she walked out of the building.
We’re going to get through this, pumpkin, she told her baby silently.
She bit her lip and tried to push past the tears that always seemed to be close by recently. Partly because she’d been worrying about what kind of mother she would be. Worrying that she’d be similar to her mother. But having Dr Spar point out how differently she’d reacted to her anxieties compared to her mother had made her feel better.
As she headed home she told herself that it was okay that she didn’t want to be like her mother. That she wasn’t betraying her mother by wanting that. She’d loved her mother. She wouldn’t have put herself through what she had for Violet if she hadn’t.
But that didn’t negate the difficult experience Rosa had had with Violet. No, that experience and that love could co-exist. And there was nothing wrong with Rosa not wanting her child to live in a world where it did.
It was harder to convince herself that the other part of what had brought her to tears recently was okay. The fact that her child would grow up without his or her parents being together. Especially because Rosa knew how much she’d contributed to that fact.
Her decisions had brought her to this point. Long before she’d found that lump too. And now she knew she’d always fear inheriting her mother’s hypochondria. The anxiety, the mistrust of her body, of her decisions, would stay with her.
But she could deal with that. She’d fight for her mental health just as hard as she’d fight for her physical health. Even though that battle would probably extend throughout her life.
She wouldn’t let it control her life, her actions. Not any more. She would continue her therapy and learn how to manage it. Learn how to look after herself properly. And see who she really was.
But before she’d got to that point she had let it control her life, her actions, her decisions, and she couldn’t ignore that she had a part in breaking up her marriage.
She hadn’t spoken with Aaron since that night at his work function. She didn’t think she was strong enough yet. Not for that. She’d left immediately after that conversation with him. She’d gone back to the house, not particularly caring about what people would say about her departure; she’d packed and had been at the airport an hour later.
The whole thing had cost her a fortune, and there had been no fairy godmother to pick up her tab. But then, her life with Aaron felt like a made-up tale to her now anyway. The clock had struck twelve on her—her carriage had turned back into a pumpkin and she’d turned back into a normal woman with no prince at her side.
‘But we don’t need a prince, do we, pumpkin?’ she murmured softly, laying her hand on her stomach. Ignoring the voice that said, Liar.
She did need a prince. Her prince. But the clock had struck twelve.
She choked back the grief.
* * *
It had been two weeks since he’d last seen her. Two weeks without a phone call or message. Of course, he’d gone without either for much longer. But things were different now. Because of the child, he told himself. Because she was pregnant.
Was she okay? Was the baby okay? How was she feeling?
Those questions—and variations of them—had plagued him since she’d left. And he could have got the answers to them with one simple phone call.
That was how he knew he was lying to himself. Things weren’t different between them because she was pregnant. At least, not only because she was pregnant. They were also different because things had changed between them. Things had become more intense.
He missed her. He missed sharing with her. Regretted how rarely that had happened when they’d been happily married.
Happily.
He didn’t think he could use that word any more. Not knowing what he knew now. Not considering the depths their relationship had sunk to before he’d been stupid enough to let her go.
He took leave from work when he realised his usual strategy of throwing himself into his cases was no longer effective. And if he’d managed to pass off his colleagues’ concerns when he’d returned to their function that night two weeks before without Rosa, he wouldn’t be able to now. He never took leave. And he’d had to convince Frank that he was fine.
But he wasn’t.
He spent his days on menial manual tasks. He went to the gym, ran. Fixed things in the house that needed fixing. At some point he found himself at the hardware store purchasing wood, and when he’d got home he’d started building a treehouse. He hadn’t given it much thought, had just done it, and he’d been halfway through when he’d realised he was building a treehouse.
Anything to avoid your problems, a voice in his head told him mockingly. But he didn’t think he was avoiding his problems. No, he was avoiding his mistakes. Because if how miserable he was without Rosa was any indication, he had made a mistake. And he didn’t know how to fix it.
Which was why he was now at his mother’s house.
He had a key, but he didn’t want to use it. He’d dodged whatever his mother had wanted because of Rosa the last time, and he hadn’t heard from her since. But that didn’t mean that he wouldn’t. For all he knew, he could be walking into another family staying at his mom’s house.
His mind had created such a convincing picture of it that he was mildly surprised when he found his mother alone.
‘So, this is the reason for the weather today,’ his mother said when she saw him. She stared pointedly out at the rain through the windows before meeting his eyes again. ‘You’re visiting me.’
‘Yes.’ He wasn’t in the mood for dramatics, though he understood the sentiment. ‘I wanted to talk to you.’
‘I assumed so, yes. Something to drink?’
When he shook his head she asked for tea from the housekeeper, who’d been hovering in the room since she’d opened the door for Aaron.
When they were alone, Aaron continued, ‘What’s wrong with me?’
‘What?’
‘Why didn’t my father want me?’
To his mother’s credit, she didn’t look nearly as surprised as he’d thought she would. Though she did get up and start pacing. When she finally answered him, she had taken her seat again.
‘It wasn’t you. It was me.’ There was pain in her eyes that he had never seen before. ‘Your father didn’t want me.’
‘He walked away from his son.’
‘Because he didn’t want to have a child with me.’ She cleared her throat. ‘Because he was married.’
‘He was...’ Aaron couldn’t quite process the words, though he’d half repeated them. It took time, during which his mother’s tea had been brought and now sat untouched on the table in front of her. ‘You slept with a married man?’
‘I didn’t know he was married when we met.’ Liana looked out of the window as she spoke. ‘It was a one-time thing too. And when I found out I was pregnant it was hard to find him. The only reason I could was because I had money. Which, thankfully, he didn’t know about.’
‘He was a one-night stand?’ he asked slowly. ‘You didn’t know him?’
‘I was young, Aaron,’ she said coolly. ‘It was a mistake.’
‘You mean I was mistake.’
‘I’ve said that in the past, yes.’ She looked at him now and her expression softened. ‘Though I doubt I meant it. I was just...angry. At myself for making s
uch poor decisions. At you for—’ she took a breath ‘—for reminding me that I should have been responsible.’
‘Because I was responsible.’
‘Yes.’ She brushed a non-existent hair from her face. ‘Even though I knew responsibility was your coping mechanism. Responsibility and control.’ She smiled sadly. ‘Because your mother was irresponsible and out of control.’
‘Is that...’ He closed his eyes. Opened them. ‘Is that why you didn’t want to spend time with me when I was younger?’
Her lips pursed. ‘I wouldn’t have made a good mother. You didn’t need me around.’
‘I did,’ he disagreed softly.
‘No, you didn’t. Look what’s happened to your life since I’ve been around.’
‘It didn’t have to be like that. After you got sick—’
‘You tried to salvage our relationship,’ she interrupted. ‘But I saw what that cost you, Aaron.’ Her breath shuddered through her lips. ‘I said that your father was a one-time mistake, but I’ve made so many more. I forced you to become someone you shouldn’t have had to be. I hurt you beyond measure. I’ve made you doubt your worth. I’m... I’m sorry.’
He didn’t know where her candour was coming from. Didn’t know what to do with the emotions it caused inside him. What he did know was that his mother’s apology meant something to him. That it shifted something inside him.
‘You didn’t deserve us as parents,’ she interrupted his thoughts softly. ‘You’re a good child. And you have been better to me than I deserved. And your father...’ She sighed. ‘He’s missed out on getting to know you. But that wasn’t because of you. That was only because of the circumstances you were born into.’
‘Thank you.’
‘You don’t have to thank me. I should have done this for you a long time ago.’
‘Be honest?’
‘Yes. And not punished you for my actions. My mistakes.’ She leaned forward. ‘I should have been responsible for you. Because you were my child, yes, but also because I love you.’ She cleared her throat. ‘I shouldn’t have hurt you the way I have. I should have put you first. I’m sorry.’
‘Mom—’
‘I knew she’d be good for you,’ she interrupted. ‘I didn’t realise she’d be good for us.’
His heart began to sprint. ‘Rosa?’
‘Of course. She told me all this, you know.’ He nodded. ‘And she said you’d come here soon. To prepare myself.’
Though his mother’s honesty began to make sense now, the reason why surprised him. Again, something shifted inside him. Again, he thought about the mistakes he’d made.
‘I see a bit of myself in her.’ His eyes lifted and she met his gaze. ‘Is that why you’re here, and not with her?’
‘How—’
‘I keep track of my family,’ Liana said.
‘You knew she was here when you visited me a few weeks ago.’
She nodded. ‘I promised Violet that I would look out for Rosa too.’
And yet he was beginning to think that Rosa looked out for them more than they ever had for her.
‘She’s not like you.’
‘No,’ Liana agreed. ‘She’s better. And she’s shown you that being spontaneous doesn’t have to be a bad thing.’ She paused. ‘Perhaps she’ll help you to let go a little.’
He didn’t reply immediately, his mind racing. And finally, when he looked at his mother again, there was a knowing glint in her eyes.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
‘WHY DID I decide to live on the top floor of this stupid building?’ Rosa wondered out loud, speaking to no one in particular. The elevator of her building had broken. She was almost seven weeks pregnant, and so tired she was barely able to lift a hand to her face, let alone her feet up three floors.
And so she sank down next to the broken elevator, ignoring the looks of the other residents as they easily made the journey up the stairs. She sighed, leaned her head against the wall and closed her eyes.
She was probably going to get mugged. Her handbag was on her lap. The bags from her grocery haul sprawled around her. Toast and tea, ginger biscuits and prenatal vitamins—the extent of what her stomach would hold. And then there were the sample dresses that she’d had to get for her show in two weeks’ time.
Why she’d decided to showcase her new line during her first trimester she’d question for ever.
Because you’re desperate to prove that you can move forward with your life without your husband by your side?
She groaned, and pleaded with her thoughts to stop bringing Aaron up. It happened too often for her liking, at the most inopportune times—
‘Rosa?’
And now she was hearing his voice. She opened her eyes with a soft curse, and then felt them widen when she saw Aaron right in front of her, crouching down with a concerned look on his face.
‘Are you okay?’
She frowned and then reached out, touched his face, to make sure he was really there.
‘Aaron?’
‘Rosa,’ he said again, his voice firm. ‘Are you okay?’
‘If you’re really here...’ She paused, gave him a moment to confirm it.
There was slight amusement on his face when he nodded.
‘Yes, I’m fine.’ She straightened now. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘What are you doing on the floor?’ he countered. There was a beat of silence while they both waited for the other to answer, and then she sighed.
‘The elevator’s broken, and I’m too tired to climb the stairs.’
‘That’s it?’
‘Nauseous, dizzy too. But yes, that’s it.’
‘So you sat on the floor of an apartment complex?’
She pulled a face. ‘I would have moved eventually.’ She blew out a breath. ‘And yes, I know it’s disgusting and I was putting myself in danger, but—’
She broke off when he placed the grocery bags in her one hand, slid her handbag over her shoulder and put the garment bags in her other hand.
‘What are you—?’
Again, she broke off. This time, though, it was because he’d scooped her into his arms, holding her as she held the bags easily.
‘You’re not going to carry me up three floors.’ He answered her by turning to the stairwell and doing just that. ‘Aaron, you don’t have to do this. I’m fine. Just let me down—’
‘Are you going to complain the whole way?’ he asked, pausing to look down at her. He didn’t even sound out of breath, she thought, and cursed him silently for always doing the kind of thing that made her swoon.
‘No,’ she answered sullenly, and his lips curved. ‘It’s not funny.’
‘No,’ he agreed, and kept walking.
Rosa told herself not to get too excited by the fact that he was there. It was probably for the sake of the baby, and she pushed back against the guilt that swelled up inside her. She should have called him, as she’d said she would, and given him an update. But there was no update. She still felt crappy. She still wished that things were different between them.
She couldn’t bring herself to call since she didn’t trust what she would say. She’d told him she could live without him that night, but her courage had faltered terribly since she’d left Johannesburg.
Besides, what was wrong with his phone? He could have called her too.
Happy with that, and ready to defend herself if she had to, she barely noticed that they’d reached her floor until he stopped in front of her door and set her down gently.
She stared at him. ‘How did you know this was my apartment?’
‘My mom.’
Rosa’s forehead creased. ‘Your mother? How did she... Is that how you knew I was in Cape Town the first time?’
He nodded. ‘She always knows where her family is. Her words, not
mine,’ he said with a shrug when her face twisted into a questioning look.
The day was becoming stranger and, since she didn’t want to waste her already limited energy on arguing about something that wasn’t worth it, she merely nodded. She handed him the garment bags and reached for the key in her handbag to open the door.
He was still holding the garment bags as he walked in and looked around. She closed the door and tried not to fidget. She lived there, but nothing about the flat was hers. She’d rented it furnished. The quirky colours, odd furniture and weird paintings weren’t her choices.
In fact, they’d almost deterred her before she’d remembered the flat had a view of Table Mountain and was located close to the factory that made her designs. She’d realised then that those were her only two priorities.
‘Are these for your show?’ he asked when she took the bags from him. She didn’t bother asking him how he knew.
‘Yep.’
‘Can I see them?’
‘Why would you want to?’ she asked tiredly. ‘You didn’t come all the way here to look at the clothes I designed.’
‘No,’ he agreed again, and she nearly sighed. Why did he have to be so damn amicable?
‘So why did you? Come, I mean.’
‘To fight,’ he answered slowly.
* * *
‘What are you fighting for?’ she asked after a stunned silence. He’d expected some version of that question, though it was still a punch to the gut.
‘You.’
She stared at him. ‘There’s nothing beyond “you”?’
‘I...’ He took a deep breath, and then plunged. ‘No, there is. I’m sorry, Rosa. For...everything. You shouldn’t be here. You should be home. You should be with me.’ He gave her a moment to process. ‘It’s my fault that you’re not.’
Her expression remained unreadable. ‘How does this change things?’
‘I’m here, aren’t I?’ It came out in a surlier tone than he’d intended. And of course she picked up on it.
‘Really? You’re annoyed because you’re here? Aaron, you’ve barely said anything beyond I’m sorry. And I appreciate your apology, I do, but what am I supposed to do with it? Things haven’t changed, which means you’re probably here because you think it’s what you should do.’
Surprise Baby, Second Chance Page 17
