CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER EIGHT

‘ C AN YOU MEET me in an hour?’

Libby’s gaze shifted to the clock on the oven. ‘Meet you where?’

He named a world-famous jeweller with a store on Fifth Avenue.

‘Oh.’ Libby’s pulse trembled, not just because of the mention of a jeweller, but because the sound of Raul’s voice alone had been enough to have that effect on her ever since they’d slept together the day before. They’d agreed it would be a one-off, so she wasn’t stupid enough to be thinking about a repeat performance. At least, not consciously. But if she’d thought having sex with Raul would cure her of her cravings, she’d been wrong. If anything, it only stoked them further.

‘Libby?’

She’d let her mind wander, and forced herself to focus now.

‘I guess. But why?’

‘You’ll see.’ He disconnected the call, leaving Libby frowning, holding the cell phone to her ear, staring out over a wintry Manhattan afternoon.

It was dark when her cab pulled up at the address she’d been given, the early sunsets par for the course at this time of year, and a hint of snow had started to fall, so Libby allowed herself a moment to stand and hold up her hands, catching some flakes in her gloves, smiling as she brought it near enough to her face to see the tiny little crystals.

‘Beautiful,’ she murmured to no one in particular, caught in the midst of a bustling group of people making their way down the street with little regard for the Australian who was enjoying her first real winter. Libby was so captivated by the glorious sight that she didn’t notice Raul, standing by the door to the shop, his eyes having landed on her the moment she exited the taxi with unconscious grace.

Libby smiled to herself then dusted off her hands, preparing to move inside the shop, until a movement alerted her to Raul’s presence. Her heart slammed into her ribs. She forced a smile but she was self-conscious suddenly, embarrassed by her childlike love for the phenomenon of snow.

‘I’m not used to it,’ she explained with a lift of her shoulders as she approached him.

His eyes skimmed her features. ‘I remember my first winter here. It was a shock to the system.’

‘But so wonderful,’ Libby said on a happy sigh. ‘I think it’s gloriously beautiful.’

He lifted a brow and then surprised them both by laughing. ‘Has anyone ever told you you’re the most optimistic person they’ve ever met?’

Heat burned in Libby’s cheeks. ‘No, actually.’

‘Well, I’m sure they’ve thought it. Are you ready?’

‘What for, exactly?’

He put a hand at Libby’s lower back, shepherding her through the large revolving door. ‘To choose your ring.’

Libby stopped walking in the middle of the spinning door, only to receive a bump on the bottom as the glass kept rotating.

‘Oh. Can’t you just pick something? Something simple,’ she added.

‘I don’t know you well enough to know what you’d like,’ he pointed out. ‘And as you’ll be wearing it every day for a long time, it should be something you don’t hate, right?’

Every day for a long time. Not, she noticed, for ever. Because once their child was old enough, they’d be able to dispense with this ruse and go their separate ways, and she was sure they were both looking forward to that.

Libby forced a tight smile. ‘Okay. Let’s just have a casual look around.’

Only Raul didn’t do anything casually, and the name Raul Ortega clearly opened the kinds of doors Libby had never even known existed. Far from being allowed to ‘look around’, they were greeted by a personal concierge, who insisted on taking them to a private room to view rings in comfort. Not only were they placed side by side on a small sofa so their thighs brushed the whole time, they were brought a trolley stacked with food and drinks then left completely alone whilst the staff assembled several boxes of beautiful rings.

Libby found the silence stretched her nerves almost to breaking point. It was the closest they’d been since making love and her heart was ramming against her chest in a way she wasn’t sure was entirely safe. But the more she thought about Raul, about the things he’d said yesterday, his childhood, and reflected on the way he’d been when he saw the sonogram, the more she knew he was quicksand. He was the definition of emotionally distant, and the last thing she should do was let herself get swept up in the crazy, red-hot passion that sparked between them.

‘About yesterday,’ Libby finally said, figuring it was better to address the elephant in the room.

Beside her, Raul stiffened. ‘I know. It shouldn’t have happened.’ He turned to face her, and Libby’s stomach was suddenly hollow. ‘We’ll be more careful from now on.’

It was exactly what Libby had been going to say, but hearing it from Raul did something strange to her insides, and made her breathing strain. Before she could figure out how to respond, a woman walked in with two display cases of rings, and from then on it was impossible to talk about anything except the clarity of diamonds.

Raul had always run.

As a boy he’d loved the freedom, the feeling of wind in his hair, the strength in his legs, the burning in his lungs. He’d been carted from foster home to foster home, each situation offering new challenges and dangers, but always he’d had his own strength and speed. He’d slipped out of bed early most mornings, before anyone else woke, and he would run as far and fast as he could. It hadn’t mattered to him that the streets weren’t always safe; that had added to the thrill. Danger couldn’t catch him; he’d outrun it.

When he’d left the foster system for good and wound up living rough, he’d run even when his belly had been so empty the exercise had cost him vital energy. He’d run because it was an inherent part of him—to know he could take himself wherever he needed to go, whenever necessary.

Running was a habit for Raul, and it was also where he did his best thinking, taking whatever problem he faced at that point in time and untangling the knots until it made sense to him. Usually, he focused on business, his mind effortlessly trawling over his current circumstances, reorganising the pieces, shuffling, until he happened upon a solution.

This morning, as the sun was just starting to hint its golden promise over the city, he found his mind singularly turned to Libby. Only each step he took brought him closer to confusion, not clarity, so he ran harder, faster, waiting for something to loosen in his mind, to offer comprehension, an understanding of their situation.

He was attracted to her.

And she was attracted to him.

So what?

He’d been attracted to women before. He’d slept with women. This wasn’t new, for either of them. The only difference was that his baby was growing inside of her and, despite the fact he’d sworn he’d never have a family, he couldn’t help but feel a biological connection to that child and, by extension, to Libby.

That was why this felt different, he realised as he hit the six-mile mark. It wasn’t about them per se , but the fact they were going to be co-parenting. It was an intimate relationship regardless of the reality of their situation: that they barely knew one another.

Sleeping together didn’t mean anything. It was an itch they’d scratched. And despite what they’d said, he suspected they’d scratch it again when they wanted to. That didn’t have to be complicated. It didn’t have to change anything.

And yet surely it was smarter to keep things in their own clear lane.

They were getting married for the sake of this baby. They were going to be living together, raising a child together. Just the thought of that made Raul’s throat constrict with panic. So much so, he had to stop running a moment, pressing his hands to his hips and sucking in big bursts of cold morning air.

He didn’t want this, he thought with a groan. He didn’t want to be tied to anyone.

He was a runner. He ran. He ran whenever he wanted or needed to. He didn’t have belongings he cared enough about to lose. He didn’t have people he cared enough about to lose. He couldn’t care about a child or a wife. He couldn’t.

And yet, what choice did he have? He was about to become a father—it was a sacred role, one he knew he would fulfil because he’d experienced only absence there. In his heart, where he might have turned to find love and strength built from generations of support, he knew nothing. It was a void he would never pass on to his child. He had to be in their life; this was the only option.

He was terrified of the steps he was taking, terrified of a future tethered to anyone, and somehow Libby made that all the more frightening, yet he knew he had to act fast, to make this happen.

For even though he was afraid and acknowledged this to be the last thing he wanted, at the same time he also understood he wouldn’t breathe easily until Libby was officially his wife and their commitment to this child was formalised.

And there it was. The clarity he’d sought.

Many times in Raul’s life he’d been afraid and yet he’d acted. If anything, the fear made him more determined: he wouldn’t be cowed by it. He’d been afraid to turn up at each new foster home, afraid of the new rules, the new people, the new environments, the new schools. Afraid and yet determined never to show it: he conquered fear and doubt with strength and courage, and he would do so again.

Running once more, he began to formulate a plan, meeting the uncertainty of his heart with black and white steps of determination and action.

That, after all, was Raul’s way.

Libby read the email with a strange heaving in her chest.

Libby

The wedding will take place on Friday at two p.m., after which we’ll have a late lunch to celebrate.

R

She read it again, frowning now, her heart pounding against her ribs.

The wedding will take place on Friday at two p.m.

There was no mention of how she’d get to the wedding, no mention of a honeymoon, no mention of any of the specifics that she wanted to know. But what he had mentioned was enough to send her pulse into total disarray.

Friday was only two days away.

Two days!

She knew they were getting married quickly, but foolishly hadn’t expected it would happen so soon. And yet, wasn’t that the whole point of this? He’d taken her to buy a wedding ring; that had clearly been a forerunner to the event itself.

...after which we’ll have a late lunch to celebrate.

Celebrate what? Their sham wedding?

Her lips pulled to the side as she felt a familiar emptiness in her heart, the pain of knowing how far removed their wedding and marriage were from what she’d always wanted. But she forced herself to ignore it. This wasn’t about her. She’d already grappled with the sacrifice she was making, and why.

For their baby, she’d do this. She’d make it work. And she refused to feel sad about it—there was just no point in lamenting what she could never have. She’d have to find a different kind of fairy tale, and she suspected that would begin and end with the love she felt for the little person growing inside her belly.

He arrived late that night, and Libby was already asleep; Raul left early the next morning, and so on and so forth, so on the morning of their wedding she awoke with a strange sense of absence warring with anticipation in the pit of her stomach.

She was getting married today, to a man she hadn’t seen nor spoken to in days, and despite the pragmatic circumstances behind their union, her stomach was filled with butterflies and she couldn’t help the hum in her bloodstream as she dressed with care for the ceremony.

It was not in a church.

She wouldn’t carry a long, trailing bouquet like Queen Elizabeth’s—the flowers she’d always fantasised about—but that didn’t matter. She was focusing beyond the wedding, on the marriage, and the baby. Once this formality was dealt with, she could start giving her attention to setting up Raul’s apartment for the arrival of their child.

It would feel real then.

Important to start preparing, decorating a nursery, buying clothes, getting ready for the reality of parenthood. There’d be childbirth classes too, and playgroups she could join.

Libby found great solace in turning her mind to those practical, baby-led plans, and she thought purely of their child as she dressed for the wedding.

She’d chosen a simple outfit, befitting the simple ceremony they’d be having, and at one o’clock she was preparing to go downstairs and hail a cab when the lift to the penthouse opened and Raul strode in, wearing a jet-black tuxedo with a snow-white shirt.

He was the last person Libby expected to see: in fact, she’d thought she wouldn’t see him for another hour, and not here but at the office where their wedding was to take place, and so her jaw dropped and her eyes widened.

‘You’re not supposed to be here,’ she blurted out. ‘It’s bad luck.’

His look was one of pure cynicism. ‘I think that horse has bolted, don’t you?’

She didn’t need reminding, on their wedding day, of all days, that he found the whole situation unlucky. Libby’s response was a tight smile. ‘I presumed we’d be meeting there.’

‘I brought you these.’

It was then that Libby noticed he was carrying a crisp white bag. She frowned, walking towards him, and when he extended it, she saw a bouquet of white roses inside, with baby’s breath poked in between. The bouquet was held together with a cream ribbon made of wide satin and pinned down the seam with pearls.

‘Oh,’ she said, staring at it, her mouth dry. It wasn’t what she had imagined and yet somehow it was lovely, and all the more so because he’d thought to arrange it for her. ‘Thank you.’

He nodded. ‘The photographer will meet us there.’

‘Photographer?’ she repeated, the detail yet another she’d presumed would be absent.

‘For wedding photos.’

She rolled her eyes. ‘I know what photographers do. I just didn’t think we’d have one.’

‘It’s the done thing, isn’t it?’

‘Maybe for real weddings, but do either of us really want to remember this day?’

His eyes narrowed imperceptibly and a muscle jerked in his jaw. ‘It’s not for us. Our son or daughter will appreciate seeing a photo in the future, I’m sure.’

‘Right,’ she agreed. This ruse was all for the baby. ‘Good thinking.’

‘Do you need to eat anything before we go?’

She shook her head. ‘I couldn’t possibly.’ Libby bit down on her lip. ‘I’m filled with butterflies.’

He lifted a brow.

‘Nerves,’ she clarified.

‘Why would you be nervous?’

‘Because I’m getting married, and to someone I don’t know particularly well,’ she pointed out. ‘It’s weird and strange and even though I know this isn’t a real marriage, I still feel like I’m about to do something momentous and important.’ She shrugged. ‘Aren’t you?’

‘Nervous?’

She nodded once.

‘No.’

‘Really? Not even a little?’

His eyes skimmed her face. ‘You’ll feel better when it’s over.’

She grimaced. ‘Like having a tooth pulled?’

His lips flicked in an unexpected smile. ‘Exactly.’

‘But no lidocaine.’

‘It’ll be mostly harmless. Over within minutes.’

She nodded, wishing the knots in her tummy would straighten out. Wishing that he understood the lack of fanfare was all part of the broader problem. She pressed a hand to her belly, not to feel the little life there but in the hope of straightening out her anxiety, and instead felt worse.

‘Okay,’ she said a little unevenly. ‘Let’s do this.’

The whole thing was surreal. She felt as though she were living in a sort of dream as they descended in the lift to the street level, where a limousine was waiting. They rode side by side and in silence to the hall. Confetti and rose petals were strewn on the steps, remnants of other marriages, presumably happier, more genuine matches.

Libby ignored the sight of it, ignored the pulling in her belly, ignored, most of all, the feeling that this was all so very, very wrong. It was for the baby, she kept reminding herself as she walked up the steps at Raul’s side, into the beautiful old building with marble floors and wood panelling.

A simple sign pointed towards the Register Office for Civil Unions .

‘I guess that’s us,’ she said, blinking up at Raul, wondering if she was waiting for him to change his mind, to say this wasn’t their best idea, that they could wait.

But he didn’t. He nodded once, his lips a grim line in his face, and she knew he was feeling as ambivalent about this as she was, even though he wouldn’t admit it.

He put a hand against the base of her spine and, despite her anxiety, Libby trembled, her body surging in response and awareness, which she bitterly resented. How could she feel such contradictory emotions?

The hall was long and brightly lit, by windows on one side and electric bulbs overhead. Libby walked beside Raul, one foot in front of the other, until they reached a wooden door. Their names were on a printed piece of paper stuck to a noticeboard out front.

Two p.m. Ortega of course she didn’t. But for Libby, having grown up with such insecurity in her life, she knew that for her it was the right choice. She wanted to give this child the world, and Raul could make that happen. Not just because he was wealthy beyond belief, but because in this one vital area they were in complete agreement. Nothing mattered more than their baby’s future, their baby’s security, their baby’s happiness.

The ceremony was swift. Raul and Libby took turns repeating their vows, then exchanged rings. Libby was surprised Raul had one for himself. She hadn’t even thought he would want to wear a ring, and yet when the time came he produced a simple band from his pocket, placed it in her palm, then waited, hand outstretched, for her to slide it onto his finger. Her own fingers trembled as she did so, and it took her a few turns, but Raul waited with no expression on his face as she performed the act, binding them, in the eyes of the law, ‘till death do us part’.

It was an indication of Libby’s mindset that she hadn’t even thought of the conclusion of the ceremony until the moment was upon them. As the celebrant said, ‘Congratulations, you may now kiss the bride,’ Libby’s heart jolted and she turned to Raul, wide-eyed, blinking up at him with consternation.

She wasn’t prepared for this.

She felt too vulnerable, as though she didn’t have her armour in place; she felt that she needed time to adjust to being married before having to kiss him, and yet it was a formality, part and parcel of the ruse they’d just completed. She stood there, too aware of every breath in her body, every throb of her heart, every pulse of her blood, every organ, every thought, every memory; it was all there, evoked inside Libby, swirling like a tornado, obliterating consciousness and time.

Raul moved slowly, his hand coming around her back, drawing her to him, as if giving her time to demur, to tell him to stop.

She didn’t. She was very still, totally passive, waiting, heart on edge.

His other hand came to her face, tilted her chin towards him, and then his head bent slowly, cautiously, his eyes closing so his lashes formed two thick, dark fans against his cheeks right before his mouth claimed hers and she moaned softly as a rush of feelings overcame her.

Anxiety was gone. Nervousness and uncertainty disappeared.

Every little piece of her that had been shaky and on edge locked hard into place, so she was Libby again, but not as she’d ever been before. She was like a butterfly emerging from a chrysalis, no longer Libby Langham but Libby Ortega—different, beautiful, strong, married and a mother-to-be. These thoughts were blades cutting through the back of her mind without her awareness. All Libby could feel was the rightness of this kiss, the warmth of his hand on her back, the pleasure of his touch at her cheek, the flicking of his tongue against hers, a delicious, tempting, sinful dance that was laced with promise and anticipation.

She was lost, utterly, and she knew she should fight that, that she should do whatever she could to hold onto herself in all this madness, but being lost to Raul was one of the best things she’d ever felt, and on her wedding day, of all days, shouldn’t Libby allow herself that one little indulgence?