CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

R AUL WAS IN the kitchen when Libby returned to the apartment, a cup of coffee in one hand, a large tablet in front of him with one of the daily newspapers on the screen.

He frowned. ‘You’ve been out?’

She stepped out of her boots, then removed her denim jacket, carrying it over one arm. ‘I went for a walk.’ She held up her coffee as if that explained everything.

‘You should have told me,’ he said with obvious disapproval. ‘I would have come with you.’

She stared at him as if up was somehow down, because it was, in so many ways. An abstract concept whilst walking outside, face to face with Raul now, she had to accept that yes, she absolutely did love him. And that this conversation, while necessary, was the most important of her life.

It was also the most terrifying.

Every time her mother had let a new man move in, Libby had known rejection. She’d lost her mother, not once, not twice, but again and again and again. She’d always been second-best. A consolation prize when her mother was single. Nothing more. She’d never been important, really important, to anyone.

What if she wasn’t important to Raul? Could she take that rejection?

Uncertainty pierced the veil of hope that had begun to shroud her; she fidgeted with her fingers.

But Libby had learned to lean into optimism. Perhaps it had been her earliest and best survival skill, a form of delusion even, to hope when hope seemed stupid. She saw beauty, sunlight, brightness, because it had helped her survive the emotionally barren nature of her upbringing, and she saw hope now, even against the odds.

Fate had brought them here; Libby was sure of it.

‘I needed to think,’ she said honestly, taking a few steps closer, pausing on the other side of the kitchen counter. It was like waking up from a dream, seeing everything for the first time.

This apartment was impersonally furnished, but it was beautiful and she realised she’d been wrong about this too, because it had absolutely come to feel like home. She belonged here. Maybe it wasn’t about the picket fence and flowerbeds and cosy furnishings, but about who you were with...

She stared at Raul with a sense of wonder, a sense of dawning comprehension, and she smiled, despite the nerves that were making her stomach loop and twist.

‘You look happy.’ Raul, in contrast, seemed perplexed.

‘Do I?’ She bit down on her lower lip. ‘I think I am. Or I might be. I don’t know. That’s kind of up to you, I guess.’ She shook her head, because that was the wrong thing to have said. She didn’t want to pressure Raul into thinking he had to return her feelings. As if anyone could pressure Raul into anything! But this had to be an act of choice, a decision they both made, if it was ever going to work.

‘Is it?’

His cautious tone caused her confidence, and mood, to dip slightly.

‘Raul, about yesterday...’

‘It was a mistake.’ A muscle pulsed low in his jaw. ‘I apologise.’

‘But what if it wasn’t,’ she said quickly, the words rushing out of her. ‘What if it was the right thing to do?’

His expression was impossible to interpret, but she saw the immediate rejection in the depths of his eyes and it stung, way more than she’d expected. This was going to be hard.

‘It wasn’t.’

‘Why not?’

‘Our situation is complicated enough without letting sex enter the equation.’

‘Sex is a part of our equation,’ she reminded him. ‘It’s disingenuous to pretend otherwise.’

‘We can control that.’

‘Evidently not,’ she said, patting her stomach.

‘From now on.’

‘Why?’

He looked at her as though she’d started speaking a made-up language.

‘Why do we have to control how we feel?’ she pushed. ‘Why can’t we just surrender to what’s good in this relationship? And there is so much good, Raul. In fact, I think this could be one of the best things either of us has ever done.’

He looked stricken. ‘It was a mistake,’ he repeated.

‘It was a kiss.’

He shook his head. ‘Not yesterday. This.’ He gestured to Libby’s stomach. ‘The boat. Sex. The pregnancy. None of this was supposed to happen.’

She ignored the immediate inflection of pain, held true to her goal in having this conversation, but a part of Libby was falling through the cracks in time, becoming a little girl again, desperate to put her heart on the line because she knew no one loved her.

‘But it did. We slept together because neither of us could resist.’

‘We had been through something. Adrenalin is a powerful motivator.’

‘It wasn’t just adrenalin. It was a feeling that if I didn’t reach out and grab you, I’d always regret it. How much I wanted you scared the heck out of me. It’s why I said no to dinner that night.’ She leaned closer, putting her hand on his. ‘It’s why you asked me for dinner. Isn’t it?’

Something shifted in the very depths of his eyes, but he blanked whatever emotion he’d been feeling almost immediately.

‘I asked you for dinner because it seemed appropriate, given we’d just had sex. I didn’t want you to feel used.’

Her stomach tightened. Was that true? Had it just been a case of going through the motions for Raul?

‘I don’t believe you,’ she said, shaking her head.

‘That’s your prerogative.’

She flinched. His coldness was worse than anything.

‘It didn’t mean anything,’ he continued in the same tone. ‘And if our baby hadn’t been conceived, we would never have seen one another again.’

Libby’s heart seemed to disconnect from her body. She stared at him in surprise. Surprise that he could say that so calmly, surprised at the version of the world he painted, surprised that the idea of not having Libby in his life didn’t bother him at all.

But then surprise faded to understanding. No one had loved her when she was young, and no one loved her now.

Libby’s throat felt thick with unshed tears. She’d been wrong. Not about her feelings, but about the likelihood of Raul returning them.

She had been about to confess something that would make their whole marriage untenable. Worse, it would have made him feel pity for her. He was already treating her with kid gloves, acting as though he needed to walk on eggshells around her. Admitting that she’d fallen in love with him would have made that a thousand times worse.

‘You’re probably right,’ she said, shivering, the words trembling a little as she accepted his responses for what they were. Rejection. Even without telling him she loved him, Raul was making his feelings clear.

Libby swallowed past a lump in her throat, tried to force herself to smile but couldn’t quite manage it.

‘I’m going to be in the nursery.’ She spun away from him, almost spilling her coffee in the hasty manner of her departure. ‘See you later.’

Everything was perfect, she thought, turning slowly to admire the room, a hand on her stomach connecting her to the baby that all this effort had been for. From the brightly coloured walls to the sleek minimalist furnishings and happy, pale yellow bedlinen, the room was set up for its future occupant in a way that made Libby’s spirits lift. At least a little. It was solace. Somewhere to go to remember why she was doing this. To remind herself that things were okay. Everything would be fine.

She could live with this equation. She could live with one part of her life being great—their baby. In fact, it was more than just one part, she reminded herself with a degree of forced optimism. She had things she’d never known existed. She had the kind of financial stability that would allow her to pursue whatever dreams she chose. Our marriage can give you wings. She closed her eyes on a shuddery breath, memories of Raul, his promises, making her skin tingle.

Libby had always been determined to see the goodness in life. To give the darkness perspective and make it tolerable. But suddenly she wasn’t sure it would be enough.

The idea of living with Raul, of loving him and getting only a limited part of him in return—those parts he was amenable to sharing—made her chest feel as though a whole ton of cement had been dropped onto it. She didn’t just want parts of him; she wanted all of him.

She wanted him. The real him, flaws, vulnerabilities, everything.

He had to know that, she realised, eyes widening.

For all that Libby’s childhood had shaped her, his had too. When was the last time someone had said they loved him and meant it? When was the last time someone had told him he could be broken and imperfect and it wouldn’t matter because they accepted him for who he was? She spun quickly, legs carrying her from the nursery before she could question her decision. And even if she were to question it, nothing would change, because she was right. She knew she was right.

No matter how he reacted, no matter what he said he felt, he needed to hear this.

He was still standing at the kitchen bench when she returned, coffee refreshed, newspaper on the tablet lit up. Her heart thumped against her ribs. She loved him. Suddenly the idea of not being able to tell him was anathema to Libby. Come what may, she had to do this.

‘I wasn’t finished,’ she said breathily, coming to stand right beside him, taking comfort and strength from his nearness.

He placed his coffee down on the bench, tilted his face towards hers. There was resignation in his eyes and defensiveness in the tight set of his features. Libby ignored both.

‘I know neither of us planned this. I’m not an idiot. Look at who we are, our lives, the way we live—our paths would never normally have crossed. In what world would someone like you even look at someone like me?’ she said, missing the way his eyes narrowed and his lips parted, as though he was about to say something. ‘Sleeping together wasn’t planned, but it wasn’t a mistake. And even without this baby, I think we both would have wanted to see one another again.’

His eyes were shuttered, totally inaccessible.

‘Did you think of me, after that night?’ she pushed, her breath held, her stomach trembling with fear.

Raul’s throat shifted. ‘Does it matter?’

‘Did you think of me?’ she persisted.

‘I think of lots of things, people, all the time. It doesn’t mean anything.’

Libby’s smile was sad. ‘That’s your refrain for everything,’ she murmured. ‘You think you can cling to the idea that nothing matters and you’ll be safe from getting hurt again. But I don’t care how many times you say that, it’s not true. Not with me.’

He flinched but Libby was on a roll.

‘Yes, I see you, Raul. I understand you, maybe better than anyone ever has, because in so many ways we’re the same. We’ve been through the same rejection. The same insecurity as children. The same holes in our lives where loving parents should be.’

‘We are not the same.’ He spoke quietly, calmly. ‘Were you beaten by foster parents, Libby, for having the temerity to watch television after school? Were you told that the world would be better without you? Not just by one family, but in different ways by each family you were sent to live with, until it became the refrain you heard each night as you fell asleep?’

She closed her eyes on a wave of grief that threatened to envelop her. ‘I wish I could take those things away from you,’ she said. ‘I wish they’d never happened. It’s all so wrong.’ Tears sparkled on her lashes. ‘But Raul, that’s why I have to say this, and I know it’s not what you want to hear, but you need to hear it anyway. I love you.’

He closed his eyes, his nostrils flaring, but Libby carried on. She’d known this would be hard, but it was vitally important. Even when she was terrified, loving someone meant going out on a limb and for Raul she would do that.

‘I—’ she paused, enunciating each word ‘—love—’ her hand lifted to his chest, fingers splayed wide ‘—you. All of you, just as you are. I see value in you, strength, kindness, goodness. You are important, and worthy of being loved, of being part of this family. I love you.’

‘Stop.’ He reached for her hand, put his over it, his eyes boring into hers. ‘Just stop.’

She shook her head. She’d expected resistance. She knew he might never be able to accept her love, but that didn’t stop her from wanting to say this, to tell him how she felt.

‘Why?’ She took a step closer. ‘Because you’re scared to let me love you? Because you’re scared to let anyone close?’

‘I have been honest with you from the beginning, haven’t I?’ There was a plea in his voice. ‘This wasn’t about love. Not ever.’

‘It was always about love,’ she contradicted. ‘I’ve never really believed in things like fate and destiny. They seem like such dangerous concepts to me. The idea of leaving the happiness of your future in the hands of unseen, intangible forces—how crazy. We make our own futures, our own happiness, our own destiny. But how can either of us deny that fate had a hand in this? I have only slept with one other person, Raul, and that was years before I met you. I’m not someone who has casual sex with strangers, but it never felt like that with you. I didn’t understand it at the time, it’s only looking back that I can see things with clarity. From the moment we met, I knew you were different. Important somehow. Right from the beginning. Tell me you didn’t feel the same about me,’ she challenged, then immediately wished she could take the words back, because she desperately didn’t want to hear any such thing from his perfect, beautiful mouth.

Yet she stayed the course. Brave in the face of fear, confident in her love being enough to overcome anything.

‘I didn’t,’ he said, but quietly, gently, as though he didn’t want to hurt her. ‘I don’t.’

Her heart cracked but she didn’t flinch outwardly. ‘You’re afraid.’

His eyes flexed. ‘Am I?’

‘You might not want to admit it, but yes, of course you are. In here—’ she drummed her fingers against his chest ‘—you’re still the same little boy who was hurt over and over again and you’re scared that if you let me love you, I’ll hurt you too.’

‘Damn it, Libby.’ She’d hit a nerve. He took a step back, dropping her hand, putting space between them, his back ramrod straight. ‘Don’t act as though you understand me.’

‘I do understand you though, Raul, and I love you.’

‘Stop saying that,’ he demanded, raking his fingers through his hair. ‘This is not what we agreed.’

‘Yeah, well, I’ve got news for you, buster. Life doesn’t always go to plan. Remember? We’ve said that before. I didn’t know I loved you when we started doing this, but I know now, and I want you to know it too.’

‘Why?’ he asked, looking at her as if truly, desperately searching for answers. ‘Why do I need to know any of this? It changes nothing.’

Her smile was sad, wistful, but she didn’t shy away from this conversation.

‘Maybe not today,’ she said with a lift of one shoulder. ‘Maybe not tomorrow, or in a month, but eventually, when you get used to how much our child and I love you, to the fact we’re not going anywhere, that there’s nothing you can do that will make us love you less, it will change everything. One day, you’ll wake up and see yourself as I do, you’ll see that you’re worthy of being loved. That you can accept it, welcome it, maybe even return it.’

‘No.’ The word was cutting, spoken quickly, an instant rejection. ‘It’s not possible.’

‘How do you know?’ she asked, her throat feeling thick, making it hard to swallow.

‘Because this is a choice, Libby. I have chosen to live like this.’

‘A life without love?’

‘A life without vulnerability and weakness,’ he corrected. ‘The kind of feeling you’re talking about is the opposite of everything I want. I refuse to allow it.’

‘You can’t refuse to allow me to love you,’ she said. ‘That’s preposterous.’

‘But I can refuse to be affected by your love, refuse to be changed by it. I don’t want to change. I’m happy as I am.’

‘Liar,’ she said with a firm shake of her head.

‘This is what I want,’ he said emphatically. ‘I am in control. I depend on no one.’

‘What about when our baby is born?’ she said, taking a step closer to him, then pausing when he stiffened, obviously not welcoming any contact. He didn’t respond, simply looked at Libby with a question in his eyes, so she shook her head gently. ‘You don’t think you’re going to love him or her? That you’ll be vulnerable and dependent on how much you adore our child?’

Raul’s expression didn’t soften. If anything, it grew more determined, more stubborn. ‘I will give our baby everything necessary.’

Something shifted inside Libby. ‘You’ll love our baby.’

‘There are other things that matter just as much as love.’

Libby stared at him, her heart slamming through her body. ‘Not to a child,’ she murmured.

‘You will love our baby,’ he said, softly though, as if needing to convince himself of this path. ‘You will love our baby so much they will never doubt their value and worth. You will fill their heart and soul with belonging.’

‘And what will you do?’ she asked.

‘I’ll be here.’ The words were dragged out of him, and Libby felt only sadness then for this big alpha guy who’d been so badly shattered by his childhood. ‘I will support our child, encourage them, be in their life. That has to be enough—for both of you.’

Libby’s eyes swept shut. ‘You won’t even let yourself love this baby, will you?’

‘Does it matter?’ The words were bleak.

‘Do you really think so little of yourself?’ she said with sad acceptance in her tone. ‘You don’t think it matters that you will be in our baby’s life and not love them?’

He focused on a point beyond Libby’s shoulder. ‘This is our deal.’

‘No, it’s not,’ she whispered. ‘You said you wouldn’t love me, but I always presumed you would love our child.’

‘Why would you presume that?’ he pushed. ‘You should know better than anyone that it’s not a guarantee in life.’

She flinched.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said, lifting a hand in the air. ‘I did not mean to hurt you. Only you’ve told me about your mother, how she was with you...’

‘And it’s exactly what I don’t want for my child.’

‘I have no intention of treating our child like an irrelevancy,’ he said. ‘My priority is this family. I will keep you both safe and comfortable, I will do everything in my power to ensure you are both as happy as you can be.’

‘But you won’t love us,’ she whispered, pushing this point because it was the beginning and end of what Libby wanted. Everything else was beside the point.

‘No,’ he said finally, and even though Libby had been expecting this, it was still, in many ways, the dropping of the guillotine. She took a step back, nodding distractedly, eyes stinging with unshed tears.

‘And that’s really what you want? You really choose this?’

His eyes met hers and for a moment she felt his anguish and pain and wanted to keep pushing, to try to find the heartbroken little boy inside of him and make everything better for that child. But then he closed himself off, visibly straightening, his features becoming taut and unyielding. ‘Yes.’

‘Even when I am telling you that I understand? I understand you’re scared, I understand why, and I will walk every step of the way on this journey at your side, understanding that you will make mistakes, that you will need help sometimes, to really let yourself love. You’re not even willing to try?’

His eyes slashed through her. ‘You’re wrong about me, about all of this. I hope you can accept that.’