Yes, she thought, imagining his hands on her belly, and on her hips, and between her thighs. But it would be greedy and stupid, as well as irresponsible, to let anything happen again. And yet the idea that this was their last time together made her feel so miserable that her skin could barely hold it in.
‘What is it?’
Omar touched her wrist, and there was a tension in his hand that made her look up at his face. He was staring down at her, his eyes moving over her, through her, as if he was seeking something.
‘I didn’t hurt you, did I?’ he said finally.
She frowned. ‘Hurt me?’
His gaze held hers. ‘I should have checked everything was okay. After the miscarriage, I mean. But I didn’t think... I wasn’t thinking.’
That made two of them, she thought. Why else had she not stopped when he’d told her he had no condoms? There was no good answer to that question, so she pushed it away.
‘Everything’s fine; you didn’t hurt me.’
Above them, the sand sounded as if it was scouring the roof.
‘Except I did, didn’t I?’ His voice sounded scoured too, and taut, as if it was an effort to get the words out. ‘I hurt you, and I’m so sorry for that, Delphi. I am so very sorry.’
She stared at him; her pulse suddenly featherlight. Omar had apologised so many times in their marriage, but usually the ‘I’m sorry’ had been followed by some conditional clause that largely exonerated him from whatever had upset her. Because, of course, the real problem was her inability to trust and confide in him.
So now she waited for the ‘if’ or ‘but’ to follow his apology. But he didn’t say anything like that. Instead, he bent his head. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said again. ‘I should have been there for you, and I wasn’t. I let you down.’
With the barn doors closed and the air outside dark with sand there was not much light in the stable, but there was enough for her to see the strain in his face. And the remorse.
Her heart beat in the darkness. She hated it that he was hurting, even though he’d hurt her. ‘And I should have told you I was pregnant.’
He shook his head. ‘I’m not just talking about the baby. Last night, when I was watching you sleep, I kept thinking about all those business trips I took. All those times I was late home or didn’t come to bed. It never occurred to me how hard that was for you.’
Delphi swallowed. Her throat felt tight, and her stomach lurched a little as she remembered all those long evenings and weekends alone.
New York was only an hour away to the family ranch house in Bedford, but it had been harder than she’d thought to live in the city. Hard and terrifying to leave her father and her brothers and the home that had been her sanctuary for so many years.
‘It was all right at the beginning...’ When she’d thought his long working hours were necessary. When Omar had made them sound temporary. ‘But then it wasn’t.’
His dark eyes met hers.
‘I know. And I know you probably don’t believe me, but it was never meant to be like that. I just wanted to take care of you, and I told myself that was what I was doing...that I was being a good husband even though I was hardly ever there. I knew you were homesick and lonely, but I was too thoughtless to admit that I was the one making you feel that way.’
‘I was homesick and lonely...’ It had been more than that. Over time, it had felt as if she was losing her substance. ‘And scared.’
‘Of me?’
The shock in his voice wrenched at something inside her.
‘No, not of you. Of having made the wrong decision.’
Again.
She thought back to Vegas, remembering the intensity in his voice as he spoke his vows, the feeling of her blood pounding round her body. She had been full of love, full of hope.
Afterwards, in the weeks when she should have been honeymooning with Omar, she had felt both lonely and fraudulent. As if she was exercising squatter’s rights not just on the coolly beautiful Manhattan apartment, but on the idea that she could be happily married to a man she loved.
‘I thought our marriage was your priority...that I was your priority. That’s what it felt like before the wedding. Then everything changed on our honeymoon. I thought that once you made that deal it would go back to how it was. Only it didn’t. It just got worse. You were always at work, or away on business, and even when you were there you were working. I suppose it just ground me down.’
She felt his spine go rigid, but for the first time in their relationship he didn’t attempt to defend himself.
‘And then, after London, I was just so tired. I couldn’t do it anymore. I couldn’t keep telling myself that it would work when I knew that you wanted something more or different. So I left.’