by Amy Andrews
‘Julia said to take care and not to come back until you’re feeling better.’
Rilla looked up at Luca standing in the doorway, interrupting her train of thought. ‘You didn’t tell her, did you? About the baby?’
‘No,’ he said casually. ‘Would it have been so bad if I had?’
Rilla breathed a sigh of relief. ‘No, of course not. I just thought we’d wait for a bit, that’s all.’
She didn’t want to say, In case I have another miscarriage. She didn’t want to tempt fate. But it was a valid point. A dreadful one, sure, but entirely valid.
Rilla remembered how awful it had been last time, having to tell the people who’d known about the pregnancy that she’d lost the baby. Deflecting questions from people who hadn’t known, reliving the whole awful experience again and again as they’d apologised profusely.
Luca had avoided all the questions, walking around with a constant don’t-even-think-of-talking-to-me snarl on his face, throwing himself into his work, leaving her to face the multitudes. His lack of support had added to her burden and people’s well-meant concern had been like a constant rub of salt into her very raw wounds.
‘Until twelve weeks?’ he asked.
Rilla nodded. Entering the second trimester was an accepted milestone when the greatest miscarriage risk had passed. She’d lost the baby at eleven weeks last time.
‘I can have an ultrasound then and we can start to tell people. I’m just not sure what this will mean for the NUM job. I’d rather wait…be sure…before I let Julia know. The department will have to find someone to cover me for maternity leave. They may even want to appoint two of us to job-share the role when I’m ready to come back to work.’
Luca blinked. ‘You’ve obviously thought about this.’
‘Not really, just thinking out loud.’ Rilla’s mind ran over all the possibilities as they spoke.
‘So you plan on going back to work afterwards?’
Rilla narrowed her eyes, not fooled by his casual question. ‘Yes, Luca. You know my career is important to me. You know NUM has always been my goal. At some stage I’m going to want to pick up my career. I’ve worked too hard and too long to ditch it altogether.’
‘You want it all?’
His voice was flat and Rilla knew he didn’t mean it to sound like a criticism but it did. ‘Yes, Luca. Like you. Like a man. A career and a family. Why not?’
Luca ran a hand through his hair. She was right, of course, men were able to have it all. But that was a philosophical debate for another time. It was wrong and unfair but unfortunately that was largely the way it still was.
‘Because it never works out like that in the real world,’ he said, his voice flat.
Rilla nodded. He was right—she’d seen it so many times with her female colleagues. ‘Well, I want to give it a whirl, Luca. I’m not talking about full-time work here, certainly not for a long while anyway. And I know that may require compromise with the NUM role and it may end up that I’ll have bitten off more than I can chew. But I will want to return to part-time work. And later…who knows?’
‘But you don’t have to,’ Luca stressed, worried that Rilla was oversimplifying and setting herself up for a lifetime of spreading herself too thinly. Like his mother had. ‘I can look after you and the baby.’
‘I know.’ His black eyes were earnest and she could see it was important to him for her to know that.
Rilla didn’t know much about his childhood but it was obvious he’d felt his own father had been remiss in his responsibilities. ‘But I want to. I’m going to need your support, though, Luca. I can’t do it without you. Do I have it?’
‘You really want to go back to work after the baby’s born?’
‘Eventually, yes. I really do. That’s a deal breaker, Luca. I’m not entering into this crazy reconciliation unless I have your word that you’ll support me.’
Luca felt the first flutter of hope in his chest. She was sitting on the bed cross-legged, wearing his T-shirt and his underwear and carrying his child, and she looked pale and tired, and he knew that was to his advantage but he also knew he’d agree to almost anything.
He also knew, much to his regret, that he still wanted her. Her hair fell in thick disorder around her face and her long lashes drew him into the enticing amber trap of her eyes. The fascinating freckle at the corner of her mouth inevitably drew his gaze to the softness of her lips.
His shirt chose that moment to slip off a shoulder and he tracked the ridge of her collar-bone, his eyes drawn south to the way the cotton pulled taut across her braless chest, her nipples puckering beneath his gaze. Memories of how he had ravaged them a month ago returned, and his mouth watered.
Luca cleared his throat and tried to concentrate on the negotiations. ‘So you are agreeing to the reconciliation?’
‘If you agree to me returning to work.’
Her gaze glowed with conviction and he actually felt that if anyone could juggle motherhood and work, she could. ‘Of course,’ he murmured, his gaze slipping to her mouth, the freckle enticing. ‘You have my full support.’
Rilla felt the heat of his gaze and felt her nipples tighten further. Was it her hormonal state or did it feel hot in here suddenly? She tucked her knees under her chin, pulling Luca’s shirt down over them. This was a serious conversation and aroused nipples had no part to play. Even so, the feel of them squashed against her warm thighs didn’t ease the ache.
‘Thank you,’ she said, her breath annoyingly ragged.
Luca relaxed against the doorframe, his tense muscles smoothing out. ‘Can you move in immediately? Today, if possible?’
Rilla blinked. ‘Whoa! I thought we’d learned the not-rushing-in lesson.’
‘Please, Rilla, I don’t want to miss out on one day of the pregnancy.’
She sighed, completely undone by his emotive plea. She nodded slowly. What was the point in delaying any further now she’d agreed? She didn’t have the right or the heart to deny Luca the connection he craved with their baby.
‘I’ll make some arrangements later on when I’m feeling better.’
Luca put his hand on his heart. ‘Thank you, Rilla. You have made me a very happy man.’
He looked so sexy, so…Italian, standing there in his clingy pyjamas with joy shining from his black eyes, that she practically swooned. ‘Yeah, well, don’t thank me yet. Just because I’m moving back, it doesn’t mean we won’t have our teething problems. Seven years of silence, Luca. That’s a long time. I think it’ll take a while to feel natural around each other again.’
Luca nodded. ‘Of course. But I promise to do my best to ease the way. Our baby deserves that commitment. We can make it work for the baby’s sake.’
Rilla swallowed. For the baby. She had to keep her eye on the ball. There was no room to be sentimental. She was reconciling with her estranged husband for definite reasons. It would be dangerous to read any more into it than that.
‘I have to get ready for work,’ Luca said, fighting the urge to go in and sit back on the bed beside her and seal their deal with a kiss.
Rilla nodded slowly. Somehow agreeing to a reconciliation with him standing in the doorway to her bedroom didn’t seem right. It was a huge step and the distance between them made it seem like an even colder-blooded decision. But it did represent their new life together. Married without intimacy. Together for their child only. Separate bedrooms.
‘Sure. I guess I’ll see you tonight?’
Luca smiled. ‘Tonight.’ He liked the sound of that.
Coming home to Rilla.
Again.
CHAPTER SEVEN
‘JINGLE Bell Rock’ played quietly over the audio system as Luca watched Rilla hang tinsel along the curtain tracks of each cubicle. Of course, he was supposed to be taking advantage of the early morning lull to be reviewing some charts but she was laughing with Emily, the ward clerk, and being very distracting. He grunted to himself and returned his attention to the words in front of him.
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They’d been living together for six weeks now.
Six. Very. Long. Weeks.
Six weeks of her lotions and potions cluttering the bathroom and her perfume invading every nook and cranny. Six weeks of making her tea and toast before she got out of bed and holding her hair back as she threw up every morning, the curve of her neck tempting him. Six weeks of sleepy morning smiles and her underwear in his washing basket.
She laughed again and he flicked his gaze back up to see that her shirt had ridden up as she threw a string of tinsel over the rail and he could see the soft curve of her waist. He knew that part of her body intimately. She was sensitive there. He remembered how she used to moan when he’d stroked his tongue along that particularly fascinating area.
Luca realised his attention had strayed again and he cursed under his breath. He was going mad. Six weeks of living with her and her…things and he wanted to touch her so badly he could hardly see straight. As if to demonstrate, the words blurred in front of him and he threw his pen down in disgust.
She’d been right. How the hell was he going to get through months of not touching her when only six weeks in, all he could think about was kissing her? Feeling her beneath him. For God’s sake, she walked around in next to nothing at home and slept practically naked in the oppressive summer heat. Was she trying to kill him?
He picked up his pen again and forced his attention back to the charts. His mind wandered almost instantly, though, as he thought about the easy transition they’d made. Apart from the unbearable sexual tension, it had been surprisingly smooth.
If her family had been surprised, they hadn’t said. They’d taken the pregnancy, the reconciliation and Rilla’s move in their stride. John Winters, Rilla’s father, had expressed his concern to Luca over the suddenness of it all but had been reassured by Luca’s assertions that it was no frivolous, half-baked idea but a heart-felt commitment.
Hailey, who had been living at home with her parents since her return from England, had happily moved into Rilla’s apartment. Everything had fallen into place. Now, if he could just banish the growing urge to touch her. To invite her into his bed. He’d seen some of the looks she’d given him from time when she’d thought he hadn’t been paying attention, and he was damn sure she was feeling a little hot and bothered herself.
Not that it mattered. He’d been adamant with her from the beginning about the no-sex thing and he was sure he wasn’t going to back down because Eve and her apple had moved into the room next door. Nothing was going to distract him—not her bras hanging on the line or glimpses of her damn waist—from his ultimate goal. A live, healthy newborn.
The memories from the awful day Rilla had lost the baby returned now with startling vividness. They’d made love in the early hours of the morning, when his resistance had been low. It had been over a month since they’d been intimate, a self-imposed torture, and she had rolled over and her fingers had brushed against him, his regular morning erection almost painful to touch, and whispered, ‘I miss you.’
Still he had been reluctant but she’d stroked him and told him it would be OK and said, ‘Please, make love to me.’ And their prolonged abstinence had caused an eruption of passion and he had pinned her to the bed and thoroughly ravaged her.
Six hours later she had walked into Brisbane General, cramping and bleeding, and even though he’d known that sex during pregnancy didn’t cause miscarriages, his world had been turned upside down.
‘Dr Romano? Phone for you.’
Luca dragged his gaze away from Rilla and the memories, grateful for a real distraction.
Rilla was painfully aware of Luca’s scrutiny as she and Emily decorated the department. Christmas in hospital was hardly anybody’s idea of fun so the least they could do was make the experience a little less clinical. Rilla, a self-confessed Christmas junkie, put herself in charge of the decorations every year and it was hard to believe that the first of December had come around already.
Hard to believe that she and Luca had been cohabiting for six weeks. Sharing evening meals and early morning vomiting sessions. Washing his clothes and seeing their toothbrushes beside each other in the bathroom. It was intimate yet…not.
Luca had been true to his word. He was trying very hard to make things as natural between them as possible. Of an evening, when they were both home, they actually talked. Not about their future and how rosy it was going to be, waking up to each other every day like they had eight years ago, but about themselves. Like they should have done back then. About their likes and dislikes, their fears, their joys, their insecurities.
And things that appeared trivial on the surface but spoke about their tastes and character. What they would grab if the house was burning down. Who they would invite to a dinner party if they could choose from anyone on the planet. What the world’s most useful invention was. Which poet was better—Shelley or Byron. Was the music better in the 1970s than the 1980s?
Things that they should have known about each other already but didn’t. Things they hadn’t had time to talk about last time round, too caught up in lust and their rush to get down the aisle. They argued but mostly agreed and above all else they laughed. They relaxed. They had fun.
And then there was the baby—of course. They talked about the baby a lot. They made plans about the nursery and what school they wanted to enrol it in. They tossed names around and compared parenting ideas, finding themselves remarkably in tune. They even talked about getting out of the flat and buying a house so their child had a big back yard to run around in.
But there was still a reserve they’d probably never shake. She couldn’t speak for him but she knew she was still protecting her heart. The miscarriage and break up had been devastating and, as he had said, they’d be foolish to put their hearts on the line again.
She’d thought his reconciliation idea had been insane to start with, but as each day went by she could see the potential. Two parents whose sole focus would be their baby. No distractions involving each other and how crazy love could make you. Cohabiting, living as a family, devoting all their love, time and attention to their child without the complication of adult love and all the potential emotional upheaval it brought to the equation.
This lead-up to the baby’s birth was about rebuilding their relationship so when the baby finally arrived they’d both be on the same page. Actually, not so much rebuilding but restructuring. Redefining. Finding a groove that worked for them that involved mutual respect and a common purpose.
Rilla knew that would probably sound cold to some, but these days, with Luca’s absolute conviction it could work, she saw it as practical. At twenty-two, she’d been young and romantic and had wanted the whole fairy-tale. As quickly as possible. But at thirty, her priorities had shifted. She just wanted the best for their baby.
‘Tree now?’
Rilla blinked as Emily’s voice interrupted her train of thought. ‘Oh…yep,’ Rilla agreed. ‘The night staff assembled it for us, we just need to decorate it.’
She didn’t know how long she had before her stomach would revolt again so it would be good to get it done while she was still feeling the Christmas spirit. Her morning sickness had continued unabated and it didn’t seem to matter what she did or where she was, it dogged her every move. Stillness intensified it and motion aggravated it further. Smells in particular triggered crippling bouts of nausea.
They walked out to the main reception area where rows of plastic chairs sat empty, awaiting the morning rush. An eight-foot naked Christmas tree was set up near the triage desk, awaiting tinsel and baubles.
Rilla opened the box of decorations and grinned at Emily. ‘Gosh, I love Christmas.’
They attacked the job with enthusiasm, singing along to the piped carols as they went. Half an hour later there was just the angel for the top left. Rilla, five feet two, looked at Emily, four feet ten, and then back up to the top of the tree.
‘I don’t know about you, Ems, but I don’t think either of us ha
ve a chance in hell of reaching the top branch.’
Emily grinned. ‘I’ll get a chair.’
Emily took one of the waiting-room chairs and held it while Rilla climbed on. She rose on tiptoe and leaned forward to place the angel.
‘Rilla!’
Luca’s furious exclamation startled her and she toppled precariously.
‘Get down from there,’ he ordered, reaching her in a few angry strides and pulling her down off the seat. ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’
‘I’m just hanging the angel, Luca,’ she said, waving it under his nose. Her body had slid down his as he had lowered her and despite his riled expression she felt her body surge against his.
Luca saw a flare of heat in her tawny gaze and set her away from him. Inferno! Was she deliberately trying to provoke him?‘What if you’d fallen off the chair?’ he demanded.
‘Well, I nearly did, thanks to you.’
Rilla was conscious of Emily watching their heated exchange. Otherwise she would have said, I’m pregnant, not made of glass.
Luca’s pulse rate settled now she was safely back on the floor, even if the heat in his loins hadn’t. ‘Give it to me,’ he sighed, and held out his hand.
Rilla handed him the offending article and they watched as he barely had to stretch to ram the plastic, seen-better-days angel on the top branch. She was tacky and garish with a fluorescent red dress and a wonky halo, but the tree just wasn’t dressed without her.
‘She’s crooked,’ Emily whispered out of the side of her mouth.
Rilla bit her cheek to stop from laughing. The way he’d jammed her on the tree, it was a wonder he hadn’t flattened her. ‘She’s crooked,’ she said, returning Luca’s mutinous look with an innocent smile.
‘It looks fine to me,’ Luca returned.
‘She’s crooked,’ Rilla insisted.
Luca eyed the two women and grudgingly reached up to adjust the irreligious angel.
‘I hope you decorate the tree at your place,’ Emily whispered as they watched.
Rilla nodded. ‘Doing it tonight.’