“Yes, give me a few. My jeans are muddy, so I want to go and change them quickly. Will you let them know I’ll be a few minutes?”
“Of course. Go ahead, I don’t suppose you’ll miss too much. Nan was complaining about teabags when I came out here.”
She laughed, tucking her sketchpad under her arm. “I can’t wait to hear that rant.” We paused at the base of the stairs. “Thank you for being my windbreak earlier.”
My lips twitched up. “You’re welcome. I could see how badly you wanted to sketch it.”
“Do you really keep a spare jacket in your car?”
“I do. It can rain at any point here. I’ve been caught one too many times.”
“Matthew! Come here and look at these photographs!” Nan yelled from the living room.
Eva laughed, touching my arm. “Go on. I won’t be long.”
“All right.” I caught her gaze for a moment before she turned away and walked up the stairs.
“Stop staring at my arse, Matthew.”
“No, thank you. I’m quite happy to continue.”
Her shoulders shook with quiet laughter, and I kept to my word and kept my gaze on her until she disappeared.
I couldn’t help it—I had to watch her go. She was so damn beautiful that I found myself watching her far more than I really should have been, and God only knew I’d done that too much today, so what was two more minutes as she walked up the stairs?
If she knew how much attention I’d paid her today, she’d toss me out of a window. When I’d used my jacket to shield her from the wind, I really hadn’t been able to take my eyes off her. Thankfully, she’d been far too engrossed in sketching to pay me any mind.
At least I thought so.
She hadn’t told me to stop staring at her, so I assumed that she hadn’t paid me any attention.
There was a true peace that came over her when she sketched, and there was something so utterly mesmerising about watching her as she descended into her own little world.
I was treading dangerously close to the edge of what was acceptable for me to be feeling. I wasn’t even sure I was toeing the line anymore—it was more like smudging it, snuffing it out until it was little more than dust.
And no matter what we’d agreed before the wedding, I was not going to tell her what I might or might not have been feeling.
I’d considered that I might feel this way after six months.
Not two weeks.
No, this was going to stay entirely my little secret, and I would hope beyond anything that I could quash these emotions.
I brushed off those thoughts and walked into the living room. Mum and Nan were sitting on the same sofa, and there was a spread of tea and biscuits on the coffee table. Mum was busying herself by making four cups, and she looked up when I walked in.
“How does Eva take her tea, dear?”
“Milk, one sugar. Thanks, Mum.” I sat down opposite them.
“Where is she?”
“Getting changed out of her jeans. We went to Saint Dwynwen’s church after viewing a potential property and it was a bit muddy from all the rain.”
“Property? Are you thinking of moving?”
“Har, har,” I drawled, taking the cup of tea she offered me. “A place for a bed and breakfast.”
“It wasn’t Ivan, was it?”
“It was.”
Mum made a noise of great displeasure. “I don’t like him. I don’t know why you keep doing business with him, Matthew, and special treatment is not a good enough reason.”
“It’s fine, Mum. Eva tied him up in knots. I think he’s probably still somewhere breathing into a paper bag trying to calm down.”
“That’s all very well,” Nan said, leaning forwards and dropping an extra spoonful of sugar into her teacup. “But I was wondering when you were planning on telling us that she’s pregnant.”
I choked on my tea, only just managing to put the cup down before I hammered my fist against my chest. Water streamed out of my eyes, and Mum got up to smack my back.
“Thank you,” I rasped, clearing my throat. “Nan, she’s not pregnant.”
“I think you’ll find she is,” she replied nonchalantly.
“I think you’ll find she isn’t,” I replied. “We’ve already had this discussion. We’re waiting until she’s settled in until we think about a family.”
“Mhmm.” Nan leaned back in the chair, cradling her teacup delicately. “If you say so, Matthew.”
I sighed. Maybe the travel had gotten to her—there was a time difference between Wales and Greece, after all, and it was a few hours on a plane. She’d clearly lost her mind.
There was no chance Eva was pregnant. Yes, we’d had sex, but she was on the pill, and I knew for a fact she was obsessive about taking it. One of the first thing she’d done before she moved was found the nearest clinic where she could get her pill prescribed again.