Chapter 23 Aisling #2
“Yes, I just admire the work you’ve done for this city, and I was hoping I might get more involved in giving back to the community in my spare time.”
“Do you work, Mrs. Chiaroscuro?” the commissioner cuts in, and the use of Raf’s last name as my title momentarily throws me off balance—but not enough to miss the subtle undertone in his voice.
“Just around the house,” I admit, then try to steer the conversation in the direction that will best ingratiate us to the Doyles.
“It’s my sincerest hope that I’ll have my hands full with raising children before too long.
” I rest my fingers lightly on Raf’s uninjured arm, glancing up at him demurely.
He levels me with a look of pride that would knock me off my feet if I weren’t sitting, and my breath catches. It’s just an act. It’s just an act, I chant in my head.
“Does that mean you aren’t one of these modern women set on pursuing a career of your own?” the commissioner asks, and once again, I note the undercurrent in his tone—even if his question is innocuous enough.
“Not at all,” I say, leaning forward to show my passion behind the conversation.
“I believe a wife’s first priority should be her family and her home, so while we’re…
” I clear my throat delicately, allowing warmth to color my cheeks.
“Working on the second part, I’ve been focusing my attention on overseeing renovations to our home.
But there’s only so much a woman can do in that regard, so it would be nice to find a charitable cause where I can lend my spare time. ”
“That’s wonderful,” Kate says, her prominent cheekbones lifting as she gives me another warm smile.
“Home renovations, you say?” the commissioner adds. “Now that you mention it, I believe I did hear that your family home met with some misfortune earlier this year. Is that right, Rafael?”
“Mmm. Yes, a fire,” he confirms with a nod as he sets down his glass of wine.
Then his arm slips around my waist with easy familiarity, pulling me closer.
“But my wife is being modest. The structure suffered quite a lot of damage, and she’s been performing nothing short of a miracle to bring it back to life. ”
I laugh, the sound light. “You’re terrible. You make me sound far more impressive than I am. Mostly, I just spend my days picking colors for the walls and choosing decorations.”
“She’s transformed my house back into a home,” Raf says warmly.
The commissioner chuckles approvingly. “You remind me of us,” he says, nodding to his wife. “Young. In love. Building something together.”
My chest tightens.
“So,” the commissioner’s wife says brightly, “have you talked about how many children you want to have?”
Raf’s hand finds mine on the table, fingers threading with practiced ease, and electricity dances across my palm, making my pulse flutter.
“We have,” he says smoothly. “I’ve always wanted to be a father.”
His voice warms, his eyes lighting with a sense of anticipation that melts my heart, and suddenly, I’m seeing him on the floor of the sitting room with Riley, doing his best impression of a scary dragon so the little girl can be a brave knight.
I think of the way his voice softened, the way he listened. The way my heart had fluttered when I realized what kind of father he could be.
It rattles something deep inside me to hear him say those words—that he wants to be a father. And my gut wrenches as I recognize the fact that I’m very much standing in his way.
“We want as many little ones as the good Lord sees fit to bless us with,” he adds, his eyes meeting mine, and his charming smile widens, lifting into a toothy grin.
The words are like a punch to the gut as all eyes turn to me. Because I know just how little Raf believes in God.
It’s a reality check I desperately needed—a reminder that this is all just an act.
He’ll say anything to play the part, and I was falling for it right along with our swooning audience.
I swallow, then lift the corners of my mouth into a smile that mirrors Raf’s. “Yes. I grew up as part of a big family and have always wanted that for my children.”
It’s not even a lie. And that’s what terrifies me.
This might be a performance for Raf, but the truth is I always did dream of being a mom, of finding a person who could love me the way my parents love each other, of sharing all that chaotic warmth and devotion for a lifetime.
But that dream was before everything got so messy.
Now, I’m old enough to recognize that life just isn’t in the cards for me.
Raf squeezes my hand, his thumb brushing over my knuckles in that absent, intimate way that sends sparks skittering up my spine, and I blush, turning my gaze away from him as I pray he didn’t read the sadness in my eyes.
“We’re in no rush,” he adds, turning his attention back to the Doyles. “But family is important to us.”
The commissioner nods, pleased. “That’s good. That’s very good.”
I should be relieved that they’re clearly buying what we’re here to sell. Instead, every look Raf gives me feels loaded, every touch too real.
Dinner arrives, but rather than release my hand, Raf holds it under the table, his thumb tracing slow, grounding circles across my palm.
I can barely breathe.
This is supposed to be an act. But as Raf leans closer, his breath warm in my ear as he pretends to murmur something just for me, I realize with a twist of longing and fear that I’m not sure where the performance ends anymore.
And I don’t know how to stop wanting more.