CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER SEVEN

R AUL KNEW SHE was pregnant. He believed her. He’d seen the sonogram image for himself. And yet, being here in the obstetrics clinic with a wand pressed to Libby’s stomach and a gloopy grey and white image on the screen, listening to the sound of their baby’s heartbeat in the air, Raul found it almost impossible to breathe. He stared at the screen—their baby—and was suddenly on the verge of a panic attack.

At least, he presumed it to be that—he’d never known this feeling before.

His vision filled with white and his lungs burned as though he’d run a marathon. And inside his mind he shouted every curse word he knew.

How the hell could he do this?

He couldn’t be a father. He couldn’t be a parent. What the hell did he know about raising someone? About taking care of another person? He’d made it his mission in life to care only for himself, to keep everyone else at a distance, and now he was looking at a tiny little life that would be his. His responsibility, his burden, his duty, his to care for and nurture and influence.

He swallowed, desperately needing moisture to return to his mouth and breath to reinflate his lungs.

‘Raul?’ Libby was looking up at him, her face showing concern. ‘Are you okay?’

He tried to smile but suspected it was more of a grimace. Libby blinked, but not before he’d seen the hurt in her eyes.

He was messing everything up. He reached down and squeezed her hand, her need for reassurance in that moment trumping everything else. She didn’t look up at him; her attention was focused on the screen.

He was ruining everything. God, he needed to pull himself together.

‘Well?’ He spoke more curtly than he’d intended. ‘Is the baby healthy?’

The doctor’s smile was practised. ‘Everything here looks fine,’ he assured them. ‘I can see arms, legs, a heart.’ He pulled the wand away from Libby’s stomach. ‘We’ll do another scan in a few weeks.’

‘Why?’ Raul asked swiftly. ‘Do you suspect something’s wrong?’

‘No,’ the obstetrician said, running a hand through his hair. ‘It’s standard procedure, to investigate the organs. Today, we’ll take some bloods, run a few more tests, but I haven’t seen anything that concerns me.’

The obstetrician handed Libby a paper towel, which she used to wipe her belly, then she gingerly replaced her shirt. Raul’s eyes clung to her stomach, the soft roundedness there hinting at what was to come, and something stole over him, a tingling sensation in the pit of his gut that ran like waves through his whole body.

Almost as soon as she’d told him about the baby he’d felt a primal rush of connection, a need to protect and provide for, and he felt that again now. This was his baby. Libby was to be his wife. Only he had no idea how to be a husband or a father. He had no idea how to be anything to anyone. He hated the thought of being relied on, even as he knew it had to be this way. But inside, Raul felt as though he was drowning; he wanted, for the first time in his life, to run as far away as he could from a challenge.

Libby desperately didn’t want to take it personally, but the hour spent in the obstetrician’s office had been one of the most emotionally complex of her life. On the one hand, there was the rush of hearing their baby’s heartbeat, of seeing the little person on screen once more, of being reassured by the obstetrician that everything was developing as it should be. These things made Libby’s heart warm and her soul glow. But then there was Raul, who’d spent the entire appointment looking as though he was being dragged through the very fires of hell, who’d made it obvious at every point that he didn’t want to be there.

So why had he even come?

They left the health clinic with her nervous system rioting. She took several deep breaths, told herself to calm down, that it didn’t matter what Raul felt or thought, that they were having an unplanned baby and naturally it was a complicated thing for each of them to navigate. But at the same time, she was angry. Angry in a way that fired the blood in her veins and made her temperature soar, angry in a way that put pink in her cheeks and caused her hands to tremble, so when they reached his car he asked, ‘Are you okay?’

Libby shot him a look, contemplated answering honestly, but instead responded with, ‘Why wouldn’t I be?’

He frowned, unconvinced, but didn’t say anything else. They rode back to his apartment in silence, with Libby looking out of the window, waiting for a sense of calm that didn’t come.

He spoke once they entered the lift. ‘Libby.’

She didn’t look at him.

‘What’s going on?’

She expelled a shaky breath. ‘Nothing.’

‘Obviously that’s not true.’

The doors pinged open into his apartment. She stepped inside, removing her shoes before moving through to the palatial living area. It was so exquisitely beautiful and, for some reason, it was the stunning opulence of the room that made her reach tipping point, and suddenly, her eyes sparkled with unshed tears.

‘Libby?’ His voice was a growl. She clung to her anger, rather than the swamping sensation of sadness threatening to devour her. But when she thought of what this experience was supposed to be like, what it would have been like if she were going through this with a true partner, she was thrown into a state of despair that was totally uncharacteristic for her.

‘It’s nothing,’ she said as a tear slid down her cheek.

He was quiet. Perhaps if he’d pushed her again, she would have clammed up, refused to speak, but the palpating silence dragged words from her almost against her will.

‘I wish you hadn’t come,’ she said quietly, and with relief, because it felt good to be honest with him.

Raul was very still, his expression impassive. ‘To the appointment just now?’

She nodded. ‘You couldn’t have made it any plainer how much you didn’t want to be there, how miserable you are about this whole thing. And I get it. You didn’t want this, but it’s happening, we’re having a baby, and I don’t want to be made to feel as though I’m ruining your life. Especially not in moments like that, when I should be able to just enjoy the experience.’ She sucked in a breath, on a roll now. ‘This isn’t what I wanted for my life either, you know, but we’re having a baby, and even when the circumstances aren’t ideal, I’m still excited, I still want to make the most of each day of this pregnancy.’ She angled her face away, unable to meet his eyes any more.

‘You’re right.’ His admission surprised her. ‘I didn’t handle that well.’

She bit into her lip. ‘You just shouldn’t come to any more appointments.’

‘That’s not what I want.’

‘Yeah, and I don’t want to feel like I’m ruining your life,’ she repeated, turning back to face him. ‘It’s not fair.’

‘No, it’s not.’ He was quiet, still, and she felt like he was going to say something, but a moment later he nodded. ‘If you don’t want me there again, I won’t come.’

Libby’s heart did a strange, convulsive twist. The moment he said it, she realised it was the opposite of what she actually wanted: Raul by her side, happy about the baby. How unrealistic and pathetic! No matter how hard she tried, the optimist in Libby was struggling to accept the limitations of their arrangement. But she knew she had to, for her own sake. It was the only way she could do this.

Raul moved towards the lift with a steady gait, pausing once he’d pressed the button and the doors had pinged open. ‘I’ll see you tonight.’

Libby turned away from him, closing her eyes on a wave of sadness, and remorse. She wished now that she hadn’t said anything. It had been futile and unnecessary. He was entitled to his feelings, just as she was hers.

But a moment later she heard footsteps and realised he hadn’t left.

‘This is hard for me,’ he said, and when she turned to look at him, his features bore a mask of tension. She swallowed past a lump in her throat. ‘I didn’t know my parents. I did not have a good experience in the foster system. The streets were... You can imagine.’ He ran a hand over the back of his neck, the action drawing her attention to the tightness in his frame. ‘I have been alone a long time. I thought I would always be alone.’ He paused, eyes boring into hers. ‘I have no idea how to do any of this.’ He gestured from himself to Libby. ‘I panicked today.’

His raw honesty made her feel something she hadn’t expected, something softening in her core. She didn’t know why, but she nodded slowly, and he took that as encouragement or a prompt to continue, because he said, ‘I am used to knowing exactly how to do what I need, in every situation. I am used to being in control, to running all aspects of my life.’

Libby expelled a soft breath. ‘You can’t control this,’ she said gently. ‘I get it; that’s scary.’

A muscle throbbed in his jaw. ‘I felt good things today too, Libby. Seeing our baby, hearing their heart beating.’ He pressed a hand to his chest. ‘I felt it. I just...didn’t want to.’

More tears sparkled on Libby’s lashes, but these were tears of relief.

‘You have not ruined my life.’

She closed her eyes, surprised by how badly she needed to hear that, and by how much she wanted to understand Raul and his reactions.

‘I’m sorry I got mad with you,’ she said gently. ‘I was scared too.’

His brows drew together, and she thought he might have been about to reject her assessment, but then he moved closer, pressing his thumb to her chin, tilting her face towards his. ‘You’re going to be a great mother.’

She blinked up at him, heart in her throat. ‘How do you know?’

‘Look at what you’re already doing for our baby,’ he said, stroking her cheek. Libby’s stomach twisted. Did he understand how much she wanted this reassurance? To believe she’d be different to her own selfish mother? ‘I’m sorry I upset you,’ he said. ‘I was thoughtless.’

She shook her head, silently denying his statement. ‘This is unchartered territory for both of us. Let’s just...agree to talk things through, when it gets tough. No matter what, we want what’s best for the baby. That’s all that matters.’

‘Yes,’ he said quietly, his voice low and raspy, and suddenly, Libby wasn’t aware of their conversation or what had upset her, or even of the baby. Every fibre of her soul was focused on the man in front of her, standing so close that if she exhaled heavily, her breasts would brush his chest. She was aware of the feeling of his fingertips against her skin, his touch light, intended to be calming, but it was having the opposite effect on her frazzled nerves.

She blinked up at him and found herself in a time warp, the last few months evaporating in a deep well, sinking her back to the boat, that moment of connection, to how easy it had been when so overcome by the powerful emotions of survival to reach out and touch him, to feel and connect on a totally immersive level.

Raul’s eyes were hooded, hard to read, but they dropped to her lips and stayed there, so Libby’s pulse grew fast and erratic and she wondered if he could feel it somehow through her skin, if he could sense her response to him. Was he feeling it too?

She lifted her hand to his wrist, wrapped it around, fingers brushing his pulse point, but her own was too chaotic to make sense of his.

‘Libby,’ he murmured, frowning, his gaze moving to hers, probing her eyes as if he could read answers there, as if he could understand something important in the depths of her pupils.

‘We shouldn’t do this,’ she said, even as she swayed forward, her body brushing his, and she felt the hiss of air escaping his lips, felt his chest jolt as he sucked in, and then his other hand was at her back, holding her right where she was, pressed to him, no more than a hair’s breadth between their bodies. This was stupid and complicated, but it was also simple and right. What a strange and contradictory way to describe their situation, she thought as she lifted up onto the tips of her toes, her eyes holding his without fear.

His hand at her back moved higher, then lower, stroking her through the soft wool of her jumper, sending thousands of shockwaves through Libby, making her whole body reverberate with pleasure and awareness. Then he kissed her, slowly, gently, just the lightest brushing of his lips to hers at first, but that didn’t matter.

The smallest spark can still ignite a forest, and the lightest touch of Raul’s lips to Libby’s was enough to remind them both of the heat that had burned between them that afternoon.

Raul groaned low in his throat and then... There was nothing light about his kiss, it was white-hot with a frantic need that turned her bones to mush and made her body tingle all over. Thought was no longer possible; she was simply a physical being, existing purely for this, for Raul.

Her hands pushed at his shirt, lifting it from the waistband of his trousers, fumbling with the buttons, yet persisting until they were undone and she could push it from his body, and then her fingertips roamed his flesh with impunity, touching him as she’d been desperate to do, she acknowledged only to herself, since that afternoon, when her dreams had been filled with memories she thought she’d never have the chance to relive.

He groaned again as her touch ran over his chest and to his shoulders, then her hands wrapped around his neck so her breasts were pressed to his torso and even through the fabric she wore her nipples grew taut and sensitive, tingling almost painfully.

He said her name like a curse but didn’t break the kiss. Instead, he reached down and lifted Libby, wrapping her legs around his waist, carrying her easily through the penthouse, down the corridor and turning right, not left, taking her to his room rather than hers.

Inside, it was similar to Libby’s, only bigger, with a more masculine décor—a huge bed sat in the centre, and at the sight of it, Libby’s pulse went totally haywire, but there was no time to question this. Not when Raul was kissing her as though his life depended on it, not when he placed her on the ground and began to remove her clothes, not when his hands were worshipping her body, running over her, touching her, teasing her, tempting her, making it impossible to imagine a world in which they didn’t come together.

‘You are so beautiful,’ he grunted, shaking his head with the appearance of disbelief as he removed the rest of his own clothes, rendering them both naked in the privacy of his bedroom. She wasn’t nervous. It was as if she’d been preparing for this her whole life, as if there was nothing more vital or important.

‘So are you,’ she said honestly, artlessly, reaching out a hand, wanting to touch him again. He stepped forward, his Adam’s apple jolting visibly as he swallowed. Libby touched the centre of his chest first and felt his breath draw inwards, then ran her fingers lower, down towards a dark arrow of hair that drew her to his manhood. Trembling a little, she let her fingers brush him, felt him jerk, and a rush of power made her smile.

‘This is madness,’ he said, eyes glittering when they met hers.

‘I know. We really shouldn’t.’

He nodded, standing still.

‘Not after this.’ She tilted her head, challenging him. ‘Not again.’

He laughed softly, relief obvious in his features. ‘You have yourself a deal,’ he said with a nod, and then he was lifting her, carrying her to the bed, laying her down and kissing Libby with all the passion and promise she remembered, with everything she’d been craving and needing, and suddenly it didn’t matter that their marriage was only a shadow of what she wanted. When he could make her feel like this, when there was pleasure as rich and as absorbing as Raul created, Libby cared for nothing else. This would be enough: it would have to be.