Twenty #2
Reggie was good, she understood Rowena’s reticence, but she was also old school. Forward planning was how she’d tackled everything in life and this was no different. For damn sure, she was already knitting up a storm in her bed at night.
‘You betcha.’ Lachlan kept his response low key. He was aware of Rowena, who was checking out the dried pastas the Morellis sold off to the side, and he didn’t want to admit to the level of excitement on Blairgowrie. He didn’t want to scare her back into her shell.
Not now. Not today.
Silvano handed over the packets of goodies and Lachlan tried to pay but, as ever, they refused. And he knew better than to push or insist. This was a matter of honour for Silvano. ‘Grazie,’ he said with a nod of his head.
Silvano nodded back. ‘Prego.’
*
‘You want to head to Blairgowrie or eat these over at the park?’ Lachlan glanced at the memorial park across the road as they exited the patisserie.
‘Ooh, the park sounds great.’
They crossed the road and Lachlan navigated them around the active arc sprinklers to one of the bench seats situated around the fountain in the centre of the park.
It was nothing much to look at during the day. A large stone basin full to the brim with water, and in the middle a circular formation of jets, each individual jet continuously arcing water inwards. But at night, it came alive, lit up with a constantly changing display of rainbow lights.
It wasn’t the Bellagio but it was exceptionally pretty.
At ten in the morning, the park was practically deserted as they sat in the sunshine, devouring their cannolis and listening to the peaceful twitter of birds over the sound of trickling water.
Rowena sighed as she finished her first pastry, licking her lips of powdered sugar in a completely non-sexual way but which, nevertheless, did very strange things to Lachlan’s equilibrium.
She was wearing a skirt—not something he’d seen her in before. It was fringed, the loose fingers of fabric playing peekaboo with her calves. She’d teamed it with a v-necked t-shirt that featured two pockets over her breasts.
Breasts which had definitely increased in size since her arrival. Lachlan was a breast man through and through—he noticed that shit.
She was sporting some serious cleavage these days.
For a moment he lamented the fact he hadn’t got to see her body grow and change throughout every stage of this pregnancy like he would have had they been in a relationship.
He was completely and utterly into her curves, and the thought of her body ripening even more as the baby grew, and missing out on a front-row seat, filled him with disappointment.
But … that was the state of play, and he’d roll with it because the baby was the important thing. In the absence of any interest from Rowena, the baby had to be the focus.
Although, the way she was looking at him now, her gaze fixed on his mouth, was full of interest.
Something hinky was definitely going on here.
There was a vibe she was putting out that he wanted to pick up, but this was a strange day and every ex-cop spidey sense he still possessed urged caution.
He frowned. ‘What?’
‘You have …’ Her top teeth dug into her bottom lip as she stared for long, long beats. Like she couldn’t drag her eyes away. ‘Cream.’ She lifted her finger as if to point but changed her mind, inching it closer instead, her gaze zeroing in like a laser on his upper lip.
Lachlan’s pulse, along with other parts of his body, leapt as her finger touched down, soft as a feather, searing like a brand. He stayed very still—which belied the absolute frenzy going on internally—waiting for her next move.
Her breathing was loud. Or maybe it just sounded loud in a brain that was so fucking hot it was melting inside his head. But every one of her rough inhalations and every husky exhalation felt as if they were being dragged from his throat.
She swiped at it, presenting the small dollop on her finger to him as if it was evidence to support why she’d touched him. ‘You missed a bit,’ she murmured.
Indeed he had.
Lachlan looked at it, then glanced at Rowena, who was staring at the cream intently, as if deciding her next move. Would she wipe it on the serviettes Gina had provided? Or would she maybe, just maybe, put that finger in her mouth and lick it clean?
Christ, even the idea of that was giving him a hard-on.
But what she did next took him completely by surprise. She pressed it to his mouth, her eyes locking with his as her finger exerted gentle pressure. Pressure Lachlan could no more have ignored than flown to the moon.
His lips parted. And when her finger pushed into his mouth, there was no way in hell he wasn’t devouring every morsel of the offering. Her eyes widened and she made a little noise at the back of her throat as his tongue swirled around her fingertip, lapping it all up.
And when every trace was gone, he sucked her finger in a little deeper, just to be sure, before slowly releasing it.
Lachlan’s gaze was hot on hers in the silence that followed, although how she—hell, the whole town—couldn’t hear his heart beating right now, he had no idea.
He was sure it was about to bust right out of his chest.
After long, drawn-out moments, she held her finger up. ‘All gone,’ she murmured huskily.
‘It would be criminal to waste a single drop,’ Lachlan replied, his voice rough as gravel in his throat.
‘Silvano would definitely disapprove.’
Lachlan chuckled. ‘I think given how heavenly that cream is, God himself would disapprove.’
‘True,’ she agreed. Then she laughed and it seemed to break the spell between them as she reached for a serviette and wiped her finger.
Pulling a second cannoli out of the packet, he offered it to Rowena. ‘Seconds?’
A small knot formed between her brows. ‘Not just yet.’
Lachlan inspected her face. ‘You feeling queasy?’
‘A little.’
‘Do you have some Life Savers?’
She waved her hand to dismiss his concerns. ‘It’s fine. I’m getting to know the difference between what needs immediate action and what will pass. I’ll have a cup of tea when we get home.’
Home. Lachlan loved it when she called Blairgowrie home. He knew it didn’t mean anything—it was just a term people used for wherever they were living at the time—but he really liked hearing it from her.
He put his cannoli back in the packet. ‘We’ll go now.’
‘What? No.’ She put a stilling hand on his arm as he gathered up the bakery bags. ‘It’s fine. I’m fine. It’s so lovely here. Eat your cannoli. Silvano’s probably got his binoculars trained on us.’
Lachlan laughed. ‘Probably.’
She reclined then, the rolled top of the bench seat supporting her neck and angling her head back. Sighing, she shut her eyes, obviously settling in, so Lachlan pulled out the cannoli and devoured it as he watched the fountain do its thing.
‘Good?’ she asked when he was done, her eyes still closed.
‘Better than the first one, if that’s possible.’
‘Entirely possible. I reckon he uses cocaine instead of icing sugar to dust them with.’
Lachlan laughed at the idea and then they were both laughing. He glanced at her. Her eyes were still shut and she was looking the most relaxed he’d seen her in a long time.
‘So,’ he asked, their laughter cutting out, ‘did the scan help?’
Her eyes slowly opened and Lachlan immediately wished he could take the question back. It had been such a great morning, and he’d gone and reminded her of her issues.
Way to go, doofus. Ruin the moment, why don’t you!
But she didn’t close up. She didn’t slam down the shutters. She just rolled her head to meet his gaze. ‘Yes, it did, actually. Thank you.’
Lachlan breathed a little easier. ‘No. Thank you.’
She nodded and he thought she was going to shut her eyes again and that would be that, but she didn’t.
‘I’ve been so fixated on getting too attached. Worrying that seeing the baby, hearing her heartbeat, would make any loss unbearable. Protecting myself, I guess. But—’
Whether it was subconscious or purposeful, her hands slid to cradle her belly. Lachlan’s palms itched to join them.
‘Seen or unseen,’ she continued, ‘losing her would be devastating.’
On that Lachlan could concur. He’d be devastated, too.
But he wished he could take the yoke of such terrible pessimism from her shoulders. Or at least talk with her about what had happened in her past to have it be so ingrained. She’d mentioned her infertility and her IVF struggles and losses, but not in any depth.
What she’d been through had obviously shaped her, but he didn’t know enough to understand her thinking or how to take a load off. Maybe she’d talk to him now?
‘I hope you know you can talk to me,’ he said, tentatively, searching her gaze as he picked his way through what felt like a minefield.
‘About Archie. And the IVF and …’ Christ, he was not equipped for this.
‘The embryos that never made it. Anything, really … I can’t pretend to know what you’ve been through, but I’d like to understand so I can be there for you. ’
She regarded him for long, long moments. ‘Anything, huh?’
Lachlan nodded. ‘Anything.’
Her gaze broke away, wandering to the fountain. Easing herself up from her slouch, Rowena hinged forward at the hips, her elbows resting on her thighs. He sensed she was grappling with something big and all he could do was wait.
Just when he thought her silence was going to go on forever, she spoke. ‘I had an abortion.’ She looked over her shoulder at him. ‘When I was fifteen.’
Well, Jesus. He hadn’t expected that. ‘Okay.’
She slid back and half turned in the seat, her eyes meeting his. ‘I was really scared. Definitely not prepared to be a mother or even contemplate going through with a pregnancy. My parents certainly didn’t want me to.’
‘Hey.’ He lifted his hand and brushed away a stray slice of hair that had fallen across her face. ‘You don’t have to justify this to me, Ro. I’m not judging you. If I’d been pregnant at fifteen, I’d have an abortion too.’