The confusion in her eyes darkened. ‘Why were you calling me?’
‘Why the hell do you think?’ he shouted, frustration and fury pushing up his throat to party with the guilt and panic. ‘You’re always at home when I get here in the evening. You weren’t here, and then Mrs Goulding told me you were at the doctor’s and I—’
‘It was a routine scan,’ she interrupted.
The panic babbling stopped so abruptly, his fingers loosened.
She shrugged out of his hold.
His temper ignited. ‘Well, that’s just great!’ he said, pushing the guilt back down his throat with an effort. ‘Why didn’t you tell me you had an appointment?’ Had she planned to freak him out deliberately?
Was this some kind of dumb test? To push him into admitting she meant something to him? Something more than they’d originally agreed on?
Because of course she did. Maybe this arrangement had no future, but he’d been sleeping with her every night for over a month—hell, he’d even started to neglect his business so he could spend more time with her.
The endless meetings and problems he had to attend to, being available twenty-four-seven to his managers and advisors, had become a chore over the last three weeks. He had turned down a ton of business trips—had even chosen not to travel to the product launch in Tokyo of a new tech company he’d acquired last year when it had clashed with the opening of Katherine’s shop. Because he hadn’t been able to bear to spend forty-eight hours away from her.
Of course, he could have insisted as per their original contract, that she travel with him. But he simply hadn’t had the heart to tear her away from her business when she was clearly so excited about developing it.
And then there were their weekends, when he’d started to make excuses to be with her. He’d always worked at weekends in the past. But gradually, after they’d returned from the Maldives, he’d begun concocting reasons to contact her, spend quality time with her. And not just to coax her into bed. They had taken drives in the countryside, long walks in the park, watched movies in the house’s basement cinema, or frolicked in the lap pool he’d had installed in the two-hundred-foot garden.
Yet another sign of how dependent on her company he had become.
He’d tried to convince himself it was still all about the sex—the quality time just an intriguing prelude to jumping each other. But this incessant need that never seemed to end—no matter how many times he took her, how many times they took each other—had forced him to realise that wasn’t the whole truth. She meant something to him. Much more than she should. But instead of looking guilty or even contrite, she stared back at him now as if he’d lost the plot.
‘Why would I tell you about the scan, Jack?’ she asked with a weary resignation that made his ribs contract around his thundering heart. ‘When you’re not interested.’
She went to pass him, but he grabbed her arm. ‘Wait a minute. What is that supposed to mean?’
‘Why don’t you figure it out?’ she said, the sudden snap in her tone surprising him. He shook off the residual hum of guilt. He wasn’t the one in the wrong here. She should have told him she had a doctor’s appointment. So he hadn’t had to find out from the housekeeper. End of.
‘You think I don’t care about your welfare?’ he demanded, the turmoil of emotions making his anger surge. ‘Of course I care. I care about you. A lot. There. Are you happy?’
But, instead of looking smug, her chin tucked into her chest as she sighed.
When her gaze lifted back to his, he could see the shocking sheen of tears. The sight punctured the self-righteous fury with the precision of a high velocity bullet, leaving shock in its wake.
‘No, Jack,’ she said, so quietly he almost couldn’t hear her. ‘I’m not happy.’
A single tear slipped from the corner of her eye before she could wipe it away with an impatient fist. And the shock reverberated in his chest like an earthquake.
She dug her teeth into her bottom lip to stop it trembling, her gaze bold and determined, but also somehow broken. The emerald-green, sparkling with all the tears she refused to shed, only crucified him more.
This was what he’d been determined to guard against—why he’d snuck out of her bed each night even though the desire to hold her, to keep her safe, had been all but overwhelming. Why he’d forced himself not to ask all the questions he wanted answers to about her father, her past, about the strong, clever teenager he wished he’d known back when they’d both been still too young to protect themselves.
And, because of that, he heard himself ask a question he knew he shouldn’t want the answer to...but did.
‘Why aren’t you happy?’
Katie stared at her husband, her limbs saturated with exhaustion. The sight of him—strong and indomitable and hopelessly wary—was making sensation flutter and glow in her belly even now.
He’d taken off his jacket and tie, his short hair stuck up in spikes as if he’d run his fingers through it several times. His gaze roamed over her, his eyes searching and a little wild, as he pressed a warm hand to her shoulder then stroked his thumb down her arm.
The prickle of sensation which was always there when he touched her rolled through her. But with it came the fierce pulse of emotion she no longer had any control over.
She’d thrown herself into this relationship in the weeks since they had returned from the Maldives, forced the emotion down and let the heat take over so she could give them both time. To get to know each other, to feel comfortable. But as they’d begun to settle into a routine, the more Jack had let her see of that runaway boy who needed love the way she had, the harder it had been not to push, not to probe, not to beg for more.
Every time he made love to her with such fervour then left her sleeping alone. Every time they had a discussion about business, marketing or her latest cupcake recipe but he’d deflected any questions he deemed too personal. Every time she sent him an email with her latest schedule of antenatal appointments and scans but she got no response.
She blinked, the prickle of sensation turning to something deep, fluid and even more disturbing.
She didn’t want to feel this way. Didn’t want him to show her this side of himself. A caring, tender, nurturing side she was sure he didn’t even realise he possessed. Because the more she saw of it, the more real their relationship seemed.
Like the time he’d caught her dancing in the kitchen and she’d seen the spontaneous, boyish smile curving his lips. Or the times he had suggested, more and more of late, that they do something together at the weekend, that he didn’t need to work. Like the tension in his jaw she’d begun to notice whenever she yawned and he asked if she were okay. Or the leap of hunger and something more—something rich with relief and even joy—that turned his blue eyes to a rich cobalt when he came here each evening and found her.
And the moment last night, when she’d discovered he had paid a small fortune for tickets to a sold-out concert because he believed she liked the band that was playing. She hadn’t even realised it was the same band who had done the song she had been dancing to several weeks before until he’d mentioned it oh, so casually. A part of her had been overjoyed. But another part of her had been devastated. How could he be so observant, so thoughtful, and yet not know how much it meant to her?
And how was she supposed to stop herself from falling hopelessly in love with that man?
But this afternoon had been the wake-up call she needed. The signal she had to start demanding more of him, or she would be lost. She’d seen her baby’s three-dimensional image on the ultrasound equipment. She’d devoured the incredible sight of its tiny nose and mouth, the closed eyelids, its long limbs—just like its father’s. She’d laughed at Dr Patel pointing out it was sucking its thumb, and shed a few stunned tears when she’d made the decision to find out the baby’s sex after the doctor had told her she had a clear image of its sexual organs.
All those emotions had bombarded her—excitement, awe, wonder... And yet at the same time her heart had felt as if it were being ripped away from her chest wall. Because she’d experienced all those incredible, life-altering moments alone. Because Jack had chosen not to be there with her.
It hurt even more to see the stunned compassion on his face now, the wary confusion at her tears. And the defensiveness in his eyes. Because a part of her knew the words he had just flung at her like missiles, words which had stunned her, were true. He did care about her. Probably much more than he wanted to. But how could that be enough? For her or their baby?
‘Why aren’t you happy?’he’d asked her, as if he really didn’t know.