CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER TWELVE

S OME OF THE pieces Libby had selected for the nursery were coming from Europe, and so it took almost a month for everything to arrive. She left each item in its box until the last piece was in the apartment, and by the time that had happened her stomach had become so round it was difficult to get up and down off the floor to do anything, let alone assemble furniture. She and Raul had developed an excellent routine for living in the same space whilst more or less ignoring one another—or at least appearing to.

For Libby, it had become a form of torture. How could she ignore someone who was so intrinsic to the air she breathed? His presence was so overpowering, so overwhelming, he was simply everywhere. Not just in the apartment, but in her mind, her thoughts, her dreams. It was truly frustrating because they both treated one another like polite strangers.

Even when he accompanied her to medical appointments, he was more like a chaperone than an expectant father, and misgivings had begun to form in the back of Libby’s mind. Doubts. Worries.

What if he was regretting his hasty decision to marry her? What if he was regretting his insistence on being in the baby’s life?

It had all happened so fast there hadn’t been time for regrets, but now that the dust had settled and he was faced with the reality of living with Libby—and the impending arrival of their baby—he might very well be wishing things were different.

She’d caught him staring at her several times, frowning, his expression unreadable except for the fact he was obviously thinking something— and something that didn’t bring him much pleasure. His eyes often fell to her belly—too big to ignore now. Libby had been forced to buy some maternity clothes, and even those were feeling a little tight already.

Twisting the wrench, her hand slipped and the tool fell to the ground, hitting her hard on the ankle.

‘Damn it,’ she cursed loudly, rubbing the flesh, instinctive tears filling her eyes. She’d been louder than she’d intended, and it brought Raul to the door of the nursery.

When he saw the destruction in there, she realised he hadn’t been in the place for weeks. Not since the day of the designer, when she’d apologised to him for overreacting. Almost as if he’d been ignoring the nursery?

‘What the hell happened in here?’

She stared at him. ‘What does it look like?’ She rubbed her ankle. His eyes dropped to the gesture, then he crossed the room, crouching in front of her so his jeans pulled against his haunches, and something powerful ignited in her bloodstream. A desire she’d been trying to ignore, to fight, because he’d made it clear he didn’t feel that way about her any more. He hadn’t even been close enough to touch her in over a month. So much for being friends. At this stage, she’d have settled for a conversation that didn’t feel so stilted it hurt.

‘It looks like a bomb went off,’ he admitted. ‘May I?’ His hand hovered close to her ankle but without touching. Libby was terrified that if his fingers pressed to her skin she might actually explode.

‘I’m fine,’ she demurred, moving away from him a little, standing with a total lack of elegance and rubbing her belly, then her neck, surveying the room and seeing it as he must have. In one corner, she’d stacked a heap of cardboard packaging. She’d managed to assemble the changing table and was halfway through the crib.

‘Libby—’ he stood too, moving closer to her; she caught a hint of his cologne and her insides trembled ‘—why didn’t you order these things assembled?’

Heat rushed to her cheeks. ‘It cost extra.’

Raul didn’t laugh, and she was grateful for that, but she felt his disapproval. She knew how stupid she’d been. He was one of the wealthiest people in the world—as if he would have balked at the additional expense of pre-assembled furniture.

‘I needed something to do,’ she added defensively. ‘I thought it would be easier than this. I’ve... I’ve never had anything new before.’ She lifted her shoulders. ‘I had no idea.’

Raul’s voice was gruff. ‘Why didn’t you ask me for help?’

Libby looked across at him, frowning. ‘We’ve hardly been speaking,’ she pointed out. ‘I didn’t feel like I could.’

His eyes flashed with an emotion she didn’t understand. ‘I thought space was a good idea for both of us, but you need to know that you can always come to me for help, Libby. You’re my wife.’

She pulled a face. ‘Yeah, right.’

‘What is that supposed to mean?’

‘I’m your wife in name only,’ she pointed out. ‘It’s not a real marriage, and we both know that.’

‘It’s real for us, for our version of marriage.’

That hurt, because he was right. Their marriage wasn’t what Libby had wanted, it wasn’t what she’d imagined, but it was what she’d agreed to. She nodded awkwardly.

‘Pass me the wrench,’ he said, holding out his hand.

‘You don’t have to do this.’

His eyes pinned her to the spot. ‘Yes, I do.’ Then, after a beat, ‘I want to.’

Libby passed the tool over with a massive wave of relief.

It was much easier watching Raul work than doing the work herself, she thought with a grimace ten minutes later as he took over the assembly of the crib with a seeming lack of effort that stole her breath.

He worked for almost an hour and then it was done, but Raul wasn’t finished. ‘What’s next?’

Libby stared at the crib, her heart twisting in her chest. ‘It’s perfect,’ she whispered, putting a hand on the edge of it, tears in her eyes. And it was at that moment, that exact moment, that their baby shifted and kicked and Libby gasped, because it was so different to the other movements she’d felt—which had been more like gentle popping sensations. This was a rollercoaster in her belly.

‘What is it?’ Raul was instantly concerned.

Libby was so overcome by the magic of the moment she didn’t stop to question the wisdom of what she was doing; she simply reached out for Raul’s hand and pressed it to her stomach, eyes wide as the baby once more flipped and kicked, this time, right against Raul’s palm.

It was Raul’s turn to react, his expression assuming a mask of shock, his lips parting on an exhalation, his eyes hooded, focused on Libby’s stomach.

‘That is our baby,’ he said, shaking his head as he lifted his other hand to Libby’s stomach and held it there. More somersaults.

They stared at one another and then Libby was laughing, and also sobbing, the emotion of the moment overpowering her, even before Raul lifted one hand to her cheek and held her still, his eyes locked to hers.

‘That’s our baby,’ he repeated, and then he dropped his head, pressing his forehead to hers. Libby closed her eyes, swallowing past a wave of emotion, everything inside of her rolling and twisting so she lost sight of who and where she was.

Instincts overrode everything, just as they had on the boat.

She was an animal, acting solely on biological impulses. She tilted her head, her lips seeking his and finding them, taking them, kissing him lightly at first, curiously, and then hungrily, desperately, needily, and it was a need that only intensified when he kissed her back, his mouth claiming hers with all the heat of possessiveness he’d shown her in the past.

She didn’t think. Didn’t wonder. Didn’t question.

It was too perfect: too right.

Everything inside Libby ignited on a cloud of intense pleasure. Heat built between her legs; her breasts tingled with a need for him to touch them. She was on fire in the best possible way.

‘God, Raul,’ she groaned into his mouth. ‘I want you.’ His hand pushed into her hair, fingers tangling in its length as he held her head where it was, against his mouth, his tongue duelling with hers, and Libby said, over and over, ‘Yes, yes,’ until she was incandescent, her body pressing against his, her hands clasped behind his back, holding him to her. She was exploding with feelings, too many feelings to understand, but they were oh, so powerful and saturating.

In the back of her mind there was a warning bell, but she couldn’t hear it, let alone heed it, or perhaps it was just that she didn’t want to. After a month of walking on eggshells, being utterly ignored, it felt so good to stand face to face with their desire once more, to know that the heat responsible for initially bringing them together was still a force neither could fully resist.

It was the only thing about their marriage that made any kind of sense.

Until it didn’t.

Suddenly Raul was very still, and then he was pulling back, lifting his head and staring at Libby with dazed surprise, dropping his hands from her head, her body, as though she were a scorching-hot potato, staring at his fingers like he didn’t recognise them.

‘That shouldn’t have happened,’ he said with self-directed anger.

Libby’s stomach rolled and dropped to her toes. She didn’t trust herself to speak at first.

‘It was feeling the baby move,’ he explained stiltedly, then took a step backwards. ‘I wasn’t prepared.’ A frown furrowed his brow. ‘I’ll finish the furniture tonight, once you are in bed. Don’t trouble yourself with it further, Libby.’ He moved to the door and then, in a last insult, nodded his head in a businesslike fashion before departing.

Libby stared at the space he’d just occupied, her lips still heavy from the pressure of his, and then she closed her eyes on a wave of desperation.

The emotions inside of her were still hard to understand, but more and more she was starting to fear one of them in particular—an emotion it would be truly awful to feel for her husband. Was it possible that, despite everything, she’d actually been stupid enough to fall in love with him?

Raul couldn’t outrun it, not this time. He went faster, harder, the treadmill of his home gym no substitute for the open streets, but at least here he was around should Libby need him.

I need you.

Not that kind of need.

But even remembering the soft, desperate way she’d called to him did something strange to his gut, so he had to work hard to stay focused on the rhythm of his steps, one foot after the other. He increased the incline, wanting to sweat, to hurt—to hurt so much he could no longer think, feel, remember.

Flashes sliced through him—other memories, those he tried hardest of all to blank. They were a talisman now, a reminder of why he was the way he was, the self-protective instincts that had served him well since boyhood.

Rejection after rejection. Hurt after hurt—some physical, like being smacked repeatedly by one of his foster parents for coming home with a torn school shirt. Some emotional, like being told he was a waste of skin, that he’d never amount to anything. Being told that no one would ever want him. The last one had been easiest of all to believe.

He ground his teeth, closing his eyes for a moment, hating the memories, hating the experiences most of all, but grateful he’d learned to be truly independent from a young age. By the time he was thirteen, no one had held the power to hurt him. He simply didn’t let anyone in.

The closest he’d come was Maria and Pedro and, even then, it had been about making them proud, not letting them love him. Certainly not loving them back.

I need you.

He didn’t want to be needed, but it was marginally better than his needing anyone else. Raul was determined never to weaken in that regard. He was forged from steel—from rejection, hurt, wounds that had cut him so deeply he’d sworn he’d never allow anyone to cut him again. He was strong now. Physically, mentally, emotionally.

Libby was simply another person in his universe, but she would never have the power to hurt him. He refused to give it to her.

Libby woke early and dressed silently, creeping from her room in what she only acknowledged was an attempt to evade Raul when she reached the front door and slipped her feet into her boots.

He’d been her shadow for a long time, and she’d tolerated it. But yesterday, in the nursery, something inside of her had snapped. Kissing him as though her life depended on it and having Raul back away had been a death knell to her ability to pretend any longer.

He wasn’t just the father of her baby. He wasn’t simply a man she’d married because of the pregnancy.

He was Raul Ortega and somewhere, somehow, everything had got muddled. Libby wanted more from him. More than a marriage of convenience, more than a businesslike partnership. More than friendship.

Deep down, she was still that little girl who believed in fairy tales and soulmates, and suddenly it seemed possible, if not likely, that everything they’d experienced had been for exactly that simple reason—destiny.

What if they were destined to find one another?

Two people who’d been broken in different ways by their broken childhoods. Who’d known hurt, loss, pain, rejection and fear as kids, who’d fought hard to find their feet as adults, who were now determined to give their own child the best of everything, because they’d never known it.

What if Libby possessed, within herself, everything she needed to heal Raul, and the same was true in reverse? What if they could just be open to that possibility?

Her breath snagged in her throat as she pressed the button for the lift, waiting for it to appear with her fingers crossed, because she didn’t want to see Raul yet. She wasn’t ready. She needed to think, and for that she required space. She needed to process and understand her feelings, to comprehend the sensations that were expanding inside of her.

The lift doors opened and she stepped through them with gratitude, pressed her back to the wall and then sighed a big breath of relief when they silently zipped shut.

Downstairs and on the corner of the block, she ordered a coffee—her one pregnancy indulgence, which she allowed herself to enjoy only once per day—with caramel syrup, wrapped her hands around the cup then took a sip as she left the café, looking left and right.

It was a beautiful morning, the weather turning incrementally warmer, and she longed to explore the city in all its guises, but especially spring. Trees were beginning to show their first bloom of leaves and blossom. Her mind turned longingly to Central Park, and the beauty she knew she’d find there as things began to grow again. Though winter had also been stunning, with the snow-covered ground and eerie, spindly trees almost seeming to scrape long tendrils of fingers against the leaden sky.

She walked without purpose or destination, simply to move, and with walking came thoughts and clarity, even when she didn’t intentionally seek either. It had always been that way for Libby—a walk somehow unlocked things within her.

Each step seemed to cement something, an idea, a concept, that had begun so long ago, and so incrementally, she couldn’t even say for sure when the idea had first occurred to her. Not consciously ever but, looking back, she supposed she’d felt a red flag very early on. Perhaps even on the boat, when Raul had suggested dinner. Libby had balked then, because he’d been so everything , and she hadn’t known quite how to handle that. Or maybe it had been even earlier, when she’d insisted on going with him to confront the boat thieves, as if she’d known that she had to defend him, to protect him, because even when they were total strangers, the idea of anything happening to Raul had been unimaginable.

And then she’d found out about the baby and she’d felt the first rush of love. Unmistakable and all-consuming, it had made her fingertips tingle with possibility and hope. Of course she’d loved her baby, but had it been more than that? Had she loved, even then, the idea of Raul too? Of growing a person who was half him? Of the certainty she would get to know Raul, even if only through their child?

She ran a hand over her stomach, patting the baby distractedly, connecting with that little lifeform, silently promising them the world, as she did all the time.

Libby had always wanted the fairy tale. The dream. But she’d come to accept it might not be possible.

But what if it was?

What if the answer, her hopes, her heart’s desire, had been staring her in the face this whole time, and she’d been too shell-shocked to understand? Too stubborn, too scared to admit that the pragmatic terms they’d negotiated were just a shield they were both using to protect themselves from any possible fallout?

Libby stopped walking and stared straight ahead. It was early enough in the morning that the street was still quiet, but even if the sidewalk had been brimming with people, she wouldn’t have been capable of noticing.

Her breath caught in her throat and she clicked her fingers in the air, the answer seeming so bloody obvious to her now.

They were both scared. They were both using the terms of their arrangement as a shield.

Whenever they got close to breaking through that shield, Raul pulled back, reminding her forcibly of what they were, because he couldn’t accept a reality in which he cared for Libby as a person.

She groaned softly and turned on her heel, walking with renewed purpose back to their apartment, a smile tingling the corners of her mouth even when her tummy was tied in a thousand, billion knots with nervousness at the conversation in her near future. It was the only way to move forward, and suddenly she was convinced she could do this.

If fate had brought them together, and she knew in her heart that it had, it was Libby’s job to listen—and to make sure Raul did too.

‘Come on, baby.’ She smiled at the doorman as she returned to Raul’s building. ‘Let’s go tell your daddy how much we love him and just see if he doesn’t feel the same way.’