Chapter Seven #2
She rolled her eyes then. ‘No need to gild the lily, Aris-totle. I meant what I said before. I’m nothing like the women you usually sleep with.’
A muscle jerked at the base of his jaw. ‘No, you’re not.
You’re nothing like anyone I’ve ever known.
My God, Rosemary, do you have any idea what I want to do with you?
You fill my dreams, my thoughts; I have never touched a woman and felt like I would die if I couldn’t possess her in that precise moment.
How else do you explain this?’ he asked, gesturing to her stomach.
She sucked in a sharp breath, unable to speak because of the strength of his words.
Then, he was dropping his hands, taking a step back, visibly drawing himself together, resuming a mask of control.
‘Which is precisely why we have to be more careful.’
She blinked at him, almost suffering from whiplash, courtesy of the shift in his demeanour.
‘Nothing about this changes what we are, and what we want. We’re getting married for the sake of our baby, for the kind of parents we want to be, the life we want to give them.
’ He hesitated a moment before narrowing his gaze, and seemingly firming up on his commitment.
‘Sex has the potential to complicate this. When I proposed, I didn’t envisage this becoming physical, and I think it’s best if we hold to that.
No matter how tempted we are. It doesn’t make sense to muddy these waters for a temporary satisfaction. ’
A lump in her throat made it hard to swallow, but she nodded quickly. In her heart of hearts, she knew he was right.
‘Good.’ He took a step backwards then, further getting control of himself in a way she could physically see.
‘I’ll have a decorator I know come by tomorrow to discuss col-ours, and any other changes you’d like to make.
We should start selecting nursery furniture as well.
My mother informs me these things can take time to arrive. ’
It was so matter-of-fact, so businesslike, that it left her reeling, but she nodded anyway, suddenly needing, more than anything, to be left alone. She felt bruised all over and on fire at the same time.
When she didn’t answer, he offered a curt half-smile in her direction and left the room, so Rosie was left staring at a void where he’d just been.
Weirdly, it was one of the best sleeps Rosie could remember. She was exhausted after the tumult of the day before. From Aristotle showing up on her doorstep, it had been an out-of-control whirlwind, culminating in that sensually charged moment last night. In this very room.
Her eyes strayed to the space they’d occupied, when he’d asked her to take off her shirt and she’d done it. Even now, her nipples felt sensitive, aching for his touch.
‘Sex has the potential to complicate this.’
Yes.
It did.
He was completely right. She rolled onto her side, one hand wrapping around her stomach while she lifted the other in front of her and stared at the engagement ring. She knew pregnancy could make your emotions riot, but there was another explanation for the way she felt this morning.
Lightness.
Relief.
Because the facts of that night, four and a half years earlier, were different to what she’d thought. He hadn’t slept with her on a dare, and he had stuck up for her. Or he’d struck out against the sexual, misogynistic treatment of women generally, but because of how his friends had spoken to her.
She’d been carrying around a lump of hatred for the man she’d lost her virginity to, and it wasn’t warranted. At least, not in that respect. She hadn’t fully realised how much that belief had been hurting her until she was relieved of the burden.
He was still a man who’d strong-armed her into agreeing to marry him, though, using their child as a bargaining chip. Except even then, she found it hard to feel angry with him, because she genuinely believed he was doing what he believed was right for their child. As was she.
Rosie stretched in the luxuriously comfortable bed, the crisp sheets like something one might find in the best hotel in the world, all starchy but comfortable, and sat up, looking around the room with renewed interest, and then gave a small half-smile to see her faithful suitcase in the corner.
It looked like it belonged in this apartment about as much as she did, which was to say, not at all.
No matter. When she was done with this place, nothing but the view and the plush bed would be the same. If she was going to marry Aristotle, and live here in Athens with him, then she was going to turn this apartment into the kind of nest she wanted to raise her baby in.
There wasn’t a moment to lose.
Aristotle was standing over the coffee machine when she padded into the kitchen a short while later, staring at it as though he was disappointed it wasn’t producing his morning brew fast enough.