Chapter Twenty-One #2
“There’s plenty of time for that. We’ll work together on the details and make sure you have all the support you need, don’t worry.”
“Oh. Um. Okay.” I shift on the sofa. He’s still watching me, but I can’t tell what he’s thinking. I rub my nose. “Marcus said that you insisted I run the division. I want to say thank you for standing up for me. I’m sure my grandfather wasn’t happy about it.”
“He wanted more control. But we made it clear we were only interested in the science.”
I nod and wait for him to elaborate, but he doesn’t. In the end, as the silence stretches out, I say, “For God’s sake, you’re making me nervous.”
He leans forward at that point, rests his elbows on his knees, and studies his hands for a moment. When he finally looks up at me, he’s frowning slightly. “I want to apologize,” he says.
My eyebrows rise. “For what?”
He sighs then. “For everything.”
It’s my turn to frown. “You have nothing to apologize for. It’s me who should apologize. I’m the one who lied about being pregnant. I should have trusted you with the truth.”
“And you didn’t because you were afraid. Not because you were guilty of seducing me.”
“How can you be sure?”
“Because I confronted your grandfather and accused him of using you, and he didn’t deny it.”
I swallow hard. “Oh. Wow. That must have taken some balls.”
He gives a short laugh. “He’s not the easiest person to talk to.”
“Tell me about it.”
He holds my gaze. “I still don’t know how to do this properly.”
“Do what?”
“Trust someone enough to let them hurt me. But I want to.”
Slowly, my heart lifts like a hot air balloon being inflated. “Really?”
He nods.
It’s surprisingly quiet in the office. Further along the corridor, there’s a distant ripple of laughter, presumably from the boardroom, but then it falls quiet again. Motes of dust dance in the shafts of sunlight that fall across the carpeted floor. It feels like glitter cast by a fairy godmother.
“If you want me to take a DNA test for the baby,” I say softly, “I’ll do it. If it’ll help you to trust me.”
He breathes in deeply, then blows out a long breath. “No. If you say it’s mine, I believe you.”
That makes me smile. “It’s yours, Caesar. There hasn’t been anyone else since the moment I laid eyes on you. But I want to say that if you don’t want to be involved with the baby, I’ll understand.”
He studies me for a moment. Then he gets to his feet, comes over to the sofa, and sits beside me. He’s still not wearing his jacket, and his white shirt is spotless, the creases crisp. His waistcoat fits so perfectly I’m pretty sure the suit is bespoke. He’s so handsome, he takes my breath away.
His gaze drops to my stomach. “I can’t believe we’ve made a baby.”
“I know what you mean.”
His eyes come back to mine. “I do want to be involved.”
“Really?”
He nods.
Hope lights me up. “Marcus said it’ll be due around the same time as Wren’s.”
“Yeah, it means we’ll all be parents together. That’s kinda nice.”
I nod, touched, and clear my throat. “I know trust is something that needs to be earned. And I promise I’ll do my best to earn yours, if you give me a chance.”
To my surprise, he holds out his hand. My heart banging, I slide mine into it.
“I want to say I’m sorry for calling the baby a mistake,” he murmurs.
That makes my eyes sting, and I swallow hard.
“It might have been an accident,” he says softly, “but it wasn’t a mistake.”
“I said the same thing to Brielle.” My eyes blur.
“It’s not Little Raspberry’s fault,” he says.
That makes me laugh. I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. “No, it’s not. Technically, he’s Little Strawberry now.”
“He?”
“Oh, it was a figure of speech. It was too early to tell.”
“Do you want to know?”
“Um… I’m not sure. Do you?”
He tips his head from side to side. “I guess we’ve got a bit of time to think about it.” He looks down and brushes the back of my hand with his thumb. “I’ve been thinking… how do you feel about starting again?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, maybe we should go on a few dates. Go out for dinner. And to the cinema. Meet each other’s friends and family. And get to know one another properly.”
I smile, warming all the way through. “I like the idea of being wooed.”
He chuckles. “Well, you told me you wouldn’t marry me if I was the last man on earth, so I need to do something to get back in your good books.”
I flush. “I didn’t mean it.”
“It’s okay, I deserved it. But if I’m going to make an honest woman of you, I need to put in some hard work first.” He smiles. “I suppose we’d better get back and make sure they haven’t murdered each other in the boardroom.” As we rise, he says, “Are you busy tonight?”
“Um…” I pretend to think about it, even though my calendar is clear for, like, the next twenty years. “I don’t think so.”
He opens the door and stands back. “Can I take you out to dinner?”
I nod happily. “I’d like that.”
“All right. Shall I pick you up from your apartment at, say, six thirty?”
“Sounds perfect.” I slip past him, and we walk slowly along the corridor.
I feel dizzy with hope and joy and excitement. I’m going to head the new soil restoration program. I’ll be able to integrate their system with mine, and the sky is the limit after that. And I’m also going on a date with the most handsome bachelor in the whole of New Zealand.
And I didn’t miss the way he slipped in, if I’m going to make an honest woman of you…
I know better than to cling hold of that, because a million and one things can happen to stand in the way.
We might discover we’re not compatible once we start dating.
A short-term fling is very different from a long-term relationship, and once he realizes just how clumsy, ditzy, and disorganized I am, he could quickly change his mind.
But at the very least, it doesn’t sound as if he’s going to abandon me and Little Raspberry.
I’m not going to have to do this pregnancy alone.
Whether or not this turns out to be the romance of the year is irrelevant.
All that matters is that the baby will grow up with two parents present who are both supportive and loving.
And I have no doubt now it’s likely that will be the case.
Still, despite my attempts to rein in my excitement, a bubble of happiness floats up inside me and refuses to be popped. He’s forgiven me. And he’s taking me on a date. He wants to try, at least, to make it work. That’s not nothing.