She didn’t want to hate Theseus. He was the father of her son.
She’d loved him once. To hate him would be to turn all those memories into dust.
As she climbed back into bed, trying hard to keep her movements smooth so as not to wake him, she realised his breathing had quietened.
Pinching the bridge of her nose to stop another batch of tears from falling, she slid under the covers and held herself tightly.
After long minutes of silence, during which she became certain that he was as awake as she was, the words playing in her head finally came out. ‘I want to tell you the story of a young woman who graduated from university with her virginity intact.’
She spoke quietly, keeping her eyes trained on the ceiling. She could feel his gaze upon her. If she said it as if she were talking about someone else, maybe she could tell it all without any more tears.
‘That young woman had spent her life as the butt of her schoolmates’ jokes—mostly on account of the size of her actual butt.’
She laughed quietly, but there was nothing funny about the memory. Jo’s only truly happy memories were of that magical time on Illya and the birth of her son.
‘She thought university would be different but it wasn’t. She made a couple of good friends, but socially she was never accepted. She graduated with her virginity because the only men who had wanted to sleep with her had only tried it on for a bet.’
Theseus jerked, as if recoiling, but she didn’t look at him. She had to stay dispassionate or she would fall to pieces, and that was the last thing she wanted. Theseus had enough power over her as it was.
‘She had her life mapped out. She was finally leaving the home she’d never felt wanted in and moving to London with her friends. She even had a job lined up. And before she moved into her new life she took her first trip abroad, as a goodbye to her old life. There she met a man—a Greek engineer.’
She laughed again at her naivety.
‘One night some men came into the bar and started harassing her. Her Greek crush stepped in and... Well, you know the rest.’
She swallowed and finally turned onto her side to face him. His expression in the half-light was unreadable.
‘You were good to me like no one had ever been before. You included me. You were nice to me. And do you remember when you turned up at my chalet? You were a mess.’
She caught the briefest of flickers in his eyes.
‘I’d never been in love before,’ she whispered, staring intently at him.
His face was inches from her own, close enough for her to feel the warmth of his breath.
‘I hero-worshipped you like you were a sun-kissed idol. And you needed me that night. You made me feel...necessary. When you kissed me...it was like a dream. You wanted me. That was the best moment of my life. So my lie about being on the pill came out without any thought or regard for the consequences. I didn’t want that moment to end so I was stupid and reckless, and I deserve your contempt. I hate that I lied to you, and I will live with it on my conscience for the rest of my life. But even if you never believe anything else, please believe that I was going to tell you about our son and that I’m more sorry than I can ever say.’
He was silent for a long time before he hoisted himself onto an elbow to stare down at her. His eyes were penetrating, as if he were trying to read her.
Jo held her breath as she waited for him to speak.
Instead of saying anything, he turned away and threw off the covers, then swung his legs over to sit on the edge of the bed.
‘That night on Illya, I behaved very badly towards you,’ he said, his back to her.
‘No...’
‘I knew you had feelings for me. I took advantage of that.’ Now he turned his head. His jaw clenched and he looked at her with hard eyes. ‘But those feelings you once had for me...keep them locked away. Never let them return. You know what I expect from a marriage and there will be no place in ours for love. You need to get that in your head now.’
He rubbed his palm over his face, then slid his underwear on.
‘Any romantic notions you may have—kill them. I will try to be a good husband to you but I will never love you. Protect your heart. Because if you don’t it will not only be you who suffers for it but our son.’
She stared at him, the heart he wanted her to protect against him beating so hard that pain shuddered against her ribcage.
He pulled his trousers on, slung his shirt over his shoulder and faced her.
‘My parents’ marriage was a disaster. If they hadn’t died so young they would have likely killed each other anyway. She loved him too much to share him; he loved himself too much and was too spoiled and pampered to deny himself anything he wanted—and that included other women. He would hit my mother for questioning his infidelities and yet, still she loved him. It was a lethal combination and not the kind of marriage I would wish on anyone. I will not have our son exposed to the horrors I witnessed. I will not have him used as a pawn in a game between two adults who should know better.’