by Holly Rayner
More than anyone I’ve ever known, I belong with him.
And I do want to see the rooms he has for me to live in, because I’m sure they’re beautiful and because I’m so excited about the new chapter of my life that’s unfolding before my eyes. And I do want to stay here in the kitchen, eating cookies and telling jokes, reassuring him that he’s the most wonderful father in the world, becoming friends.
But there’s something I want more.
Something I want right now.
“I’m ready,” I tell him quietly. “Take me to your rooms.”
He kisses me, so, so gently, on the corner of my mouth.
“Are you sure?” he asks.
“I’ve never wanted anything more in my life,” I tell him. “I think I’ve been waiting for this since the first time I saw you, Tomas. I can’t stand to wait another minute.”
He grins. Then, to my surprise, he bends and scoops me into his arms.
“Then let’s go,” he says, a grin of absolute delight spreading across his face.
I’m overwhelmed with the knowledge that I’m the cause of that smile.
He carries me up the stairs and into a part of the house I’ve never seen before, through wide white double doors that have been propped open. There’s a smaller kitchen here, like the one in my hotel room, and a sofa with a big TV facing it, but I barely have time to notice these things. We round the corner and enter a huge room with a plush white carpet and a massive bed covered with a thick white bedspread.
He carries me over to the bed and lays me down gently.
I can’t find words. I can barely draw breath. I gaze up at him, holding his eyes, not daring to move.
“This is what you want?” he asks, one more time.
“More than anything,” I tell him quietly.
At long last, his hands slip under the hem of my shirt, lifting it over my head. At last, his lips find my skin, soothing the fever, exploring every inch of my body. And in this moment, I feel more open and free and trusting than I ever have in my life.
I catch him by the arms and pull him back up to me, catching his lips with my own. I kiss him fiercely, passionately, and he returns my kiss with equal fervor. And neither of us pulls away for a very long, indulgent, delicious time.
Chapter 20
Emma
Six Months Later
It rains almost every day of the autumn in Luxembourg. The weather is chilly. I’m no longer able to go outside each morning and walk around taking pictures of everything beautiful in this place, my new homeland.
And I could care less.
Everything I want these days is inside. Inside the beautiful manor house that has become my home. Inside Tomas’s arms each night.
I’ve moved into my own suite of rooms, as Tomas promised. The rooms are absolutely beautiful, and the suite is bigger than my whole apartment back in New York. Like Tomas, I’ve got a little kitchen for preparing late night snacks, and a sofa and TV of my own. I have a gorgeous bathroom, the floor tiled in a pretty mosaic pattern, a huge whirlpool bathtub in the corner. And my bedchamber is one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen, with a soft white rug and white comforter to match Tomas’s room and a delicate canopy hanging over the four-poster bed.
I spend almost no time there.
I appreciate the effort Tomas made to give me my own space in the home we now share, but my suite of rooms has become nothing more than storage space for my off-season clothes, which I had shipped over from New York.
I’ve been spending virtually every night with Tomas.
For a while I was bothered by how quickly and easily I’d given in to him, after all the time spent worrying about whether sex was the only thing he wanted from me. It wasn’t that I had concerns about his intentions anymore—he’s so gentle with me, always checking in and making sure that I want to continue—that I really can’t doubt him. But I did question myself. Didn’t I have any willpower?
I’ll stay in my room tonight, I told myself, throughout those first several weeks. I won’t stay with him. I’ll take a night off, just to prove to myself that I can.
But I never could, and at this point I’ve given the whole thing up. Why torture myself? I want to be with Tomas, and he wants to be with me, and really, there’s no reason not to.
These thoughts have gradually transitioned from feeling like excuses to feeling like something to celebrate. As I lie in Tomas’s bed this morning reflecting on the passion we shared late into last night, it occurs to me that this is the first time in my life I’ve felt this way about sharing myself with someone. I’ve always felt before like I was compromising, like I was giving something away. But with Tomas I’m getting back just as much as I give, and that’s what makes this relationship different. If I had known all along that it would be like this, I never would have hesitated in getting involved with him. I would have jumped right in.
The chamber door swings open. Tomas enters, clad in flannel pants and nothing else and bearing a breakfast tray. Lately, he’s taken to making breakfasts for us to eat in bed together. He stands the tray across my legs and crawls into bed beside me, cupping my cheek and turning my head towards his for a kiss.
I deepen the kiss and indulge myself, until finally Tomas breaks away laughing. “Keep that up and things are going to go in a very different direction than breakfast,” he says.
“I wouldn’t mind.”
“You wouldn’t want to see these omelets go to waste, though, would you? I worked hard on them.”
I lift the cover on the plate in front of me to reveal two fluffy omelets. Cheddar cheese, spinach, and mushrooms. My favorite.
“All right,” I agree. “Omelets now, then. Kissing later.”
“Is that a promise?”
I giggle and pick up my fork. The minute I cut into the omelet, cheese comes oozing out onto the plate. “This looks amazing.”
“I hope so.” Tomas carves into his own omelet and takes a bite.
“You always start at the edge,” I laugh. “Everyone knows the right way to eat an omelet is by cutting into the middle first.”
“You’re ridiculous.”
“But I love you.”
“Love you too.” He kisses my cheek.
“I thought we weren’t kissing now,” I protest.
“That was just a little peck.”
I respond by peppering him with little pecks of my own, all across his cheek and neck and shoulder and down his arm, until he’s laughing and begging for mercy, holding me at bay with one hand.
“All right, all right!” he cries. “I surrender!”
Feeling proud and satisfied, I smirk at him, pick up my fork, and resume eating.
Of course, even as we eat, it’s all we can do to keep our hands to ourselves. Tomas sits with his arm around me and his hand keeps tracing its way up and down the length of my spine, dipping lower each time. It’s delicious and distracting. I eat methodically, careful not to respond, knowing from experience how quickly one thing leads to the next between the two of us. I want to enjoy this omelet while it’s hot.
When the omelets are gone, though, there’s nothing to keep us out of each other’s arms. Tomas moves the tray out of our way and I climb on top of him, straddling his lap, holding his face in my hands.
“Now do I get to present my compliments to the chef?” I ask.
He settles back against the headboard, gazing up at me with something like worship in his eyes. “The chef would be honored.”
I lean down to kiss him. After all this time together, it still hasn’t gotten old. I still haven’t grown used to the fact that I’m allowed to do this whenever I want. And, as always, I quickly lose myself in the taste of him and the feel of his hands on my body.
Chapter 21
Emma
I hold out a handful of fruit-flavored candies to Lara.
“Don’t you think I’m a little too advanced for this game?” she asks, making a face.
“Are you saying you don’t w
ant the candy?”
“I do want the candy. I just don’t want to have to play a baby game to get it.”
I laugh. Lara hates the idea that anyone thinks she’s not as smart as she is.
“You know that I know you know all the flavors,” I say. “But rules are rules.”
“Fine. Grape, grape, banana, strawberry, orange, orange, orange.”
“I think that one’s a peach, actually.”
“Oh, just give me the candy.”
I laugh and tip the handful of candies into Lara’s eager palm. “Your English is really good now, you know.”
She nods bashfully. “Thanks to you, Emma.”
I smile and hug her. “I think you knew most of it already; I just helped you along the way.”
I press a kiss to her blond curls before turning back to the task at hand.
“All right, let’s get down to the real lesson,” I say. “Read me what you wrote in your journal yesterday.”
Lara opens the journal and prepares to read, but we’re interrupted by the sound of a door banging open.
“Daddy!” she cries, and runs from the library where we’re studying down the hall and toward the steps leading to the foyer.
Half exasperated and half amused, I get to my feet and follow her.
We find Tomas standing in the foyer, handing his raincoat to Anne and shaking the water from his hair.
“How was your meeting?” I ask him.
“Oh, very boring,” he says with a laugh. “Meetings are always boring. We don’t like them a bit, do we, Lara?”
“Nope!” the little girl chirps.
“Oh, what are you talking about?” I ask her, laughing. “You’ve never been to a meeting.”
“Why would I? They’re boring!” She turns back to her father. “Did you bring me anything?”
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a little stuffed puppy, which he hands to her. “Picked it up at the train station.”
“I love him!” She hugs the dog.
“Okay,” I say. “We should get back to our lesson, Lara.”
“Can Daddy come?”
I look at Tomas. “If he isn’t busy, I don’t mind.” I’m always happy to have him in the room.
Tomas follows us upstairs. “I picked something up for you, too,” he says as we enter the library.
“You didn’t have to do that.”
He reaches into his other pocket and pulls out a little box.
I open it and gasp. “Are these real sapphires?”
“Do you like them?” he asks hesitantly. “I know you don’t often wear earrings.”
“That’s because I don’t have any I love.”
I pick up one earring and fit it into my ear, then the second.
“These are beautiful, Tomas. Thank you.” I turn to Lara. “How do I look?”
“Like a princess!”
Tomas kisses me, setting off a round of giggles in his daughter.
“You are a princess,” he says earnestly. “My princess.”
“I thought I was your princess,” Lara says, her voice teasing.
Tomas nods. “I have two. I’m the luckiest man in the world.”
She runs to hug him, and we all stand together, embracing each other, for a long time before Tomas pulls back.
“All right, you princesses,” he says. “Get back to your lesson, now. I love seeing the two of you smile.”
We return to our work, but for the rest of the day, neither Lara nor I can seem to wipe the smiles from our faces.
I awake the next morning with my stomach turning somersaults. Rolling over in bed, I can smell the breakfast that Tomas is cooking. I’m pretty sure it’s crêpes, my absolute favorite, but for some reason the usually delicious odor of batter and powdered sugar isn’t sitting well with me today.
I sit up, trying to clear my head.
Mistake. As soon as I’m upright, my stomach plunges as if I were speeding downhill on a roller coaster. I clap my hand to my mouth and jump to my feet, bolting for the bathroom.
I make it in time, but just barely. My knees scrape against the tile as I throw myself to the ground in front of the toilet and vomit.
I’m still on the floor, facedown and gagging, when I hear footsteps behind me.
“Emma?” Tomas asks, sounding concerned.
“Go away,” I tell him. “You don’t need to see this.”
He ignores that and comes over to kneel beside me. “Are you sick?” he asks, his hand cupping my forehead.
“I don’t know.” I lean into him, grateful despite my embarrassment.
“You don’t have a fever.”
“I probably just ate something that didn’t agree with me,” I say. “I feel better now, actually.”
“Do you think you could keep some breakfast down?”
I laugh. “To tell you the truth, I’m starving.”
“Well that turned around quickly,” Tomas says with a grin. “Why don’t you let me take you back to bed, then, and I’ll bring you your breakfast.”
Before I can say a word, he scoops me up in his arms and carries me back to the bed.
“I can’t stay and eat with you, unfortunately,” he adds as he sets the breakfast tray across my lap. “I have a conference call in ten minutes, and Lara’s out at her ballet class. Do you want me to send Anne up?”
“No, no,” I assure him, feeling embarrassed. “I’m all right now. Really, it was just a passing thing.”
“Okay.” He kisses my forehead. “Enjoy your breakfast.” He grins and heads out the door.
I’m about to take my first bite of the crêpes, but my fork freezes on the way to my mouth as a thought occurs to me.
And suddenly I’m doing math in my head, counting backward as quickly as possible, knowing the answer I’m going to find before I even get to it, because how could it be anything else?
My period is late.
I’m not getting sick. I didn’t eat something that’s making me ill.
Oh, my God.
I set the breakfast plate aside, carefully and quietly, as if I’m doing something very secretive. I slip out from under the covers and take Tomas’s robe down from its hook. Feeling as though I’m breaking some rule, I leave the bedchamber and head for the hallway.
The hall is empty. Tomas has already disappeared, off to his office to take his phone call. I won’t have to walk by him on my way to where I’m going.
My own suite of rooms is on the opposite side of the house from where Tomas has his. It feels like stepping into an abandoned place, even though I technically live here. Things of mine that I use infrequently are kept here. The bathroom cabinet, stocked by Anne, contains every toiletry she could think of that a young woman might need.
Still, I’m not sure I’ll find what I’m looking for, and it comes as a great relief to see it tucked up in the corner of the cabinet. Pregnancy tests.
I pull down the box, check the expiration date, and breathe a sigh of relief when I see that they’re still good. At least I won’t have to suffer the humiliation of asking someone to go to a drugstore for me.
I have the package open in seconds, the test ready in less than a minute.
I can’t stand to look at the stick while I await the results, so I place it on the sink and sit on the toilet lid, my gaze focused on my watch, waiting for the second hand to make the journey around the face.
And then, just to be safe, I wait a minute longer. I want to be sure of the results.
Finally, I can’t justify putting it off any longer. I get to my feet and edge my way toward the sink and the pregnancy test lying there. I’m still not sure what outcome I’m hoping for. Tomas and I haven’t been together that long, and getting pregnant now would definitely throw a wrench in the gears. On the other hand, the thought of a child of my own, a child with him, a little sister or brother for Lara…I can’t deny that’s enticing.
I take a deep breath, pick up the test, and look at it.
Positive.
&n
bsp; It’s positive. I’m pregnant. Pregnant with Tomas’s child.
Immediately the question of how I feel about this is answered as joy rushes in to fill me from head to toes.
“We’re having a baby,” I whisper to myself, and my hand moves automatically to cradle my stomach. I always wanted a child, but in recent years I’d started to doubt whether I’d ever get my wish. And now it’s happening. I’m going to be a mother. My baby is already on the way.
It’s a dream come true.
I’m in such awe that I have to keep looking at the test, have to keep reassuring myself that this is really happening. That little plus sign is the center of my universe now.
I can’t wait to tell Tomas. He’s going to be so excited when he hears this news. I run from the bathroom, planning to find him in his study and tell him right away.
But a sudden thought strikes me and draws me up short.
What if Tomas isn’t ready for this?
It would be no flaw in him if he wasn’t, I know. After all, I wasn’t sure I was ready for this until just a few moments ago. Despite the fact that I’ve never been happier in my life, despite the fact that I’m pretty sure Tomas feels the same way, I can’t ignore the matter that we’ve only been together for a few months. We haven’t even known each other for a year yet. It’s very quick to become parents together.
And here he’s been reassuring me that we can take things slowly.
I can’t help but laugh a little, a combination of nerves and the absurdity of the situation. Tomas promised we’d take things as slow as I liked if I’d come back to him, and since that time I’ve completely taken the brakes off in our relationship. And now I’m pregnant. That’s about as far from taking it slowly as you can get.
What if he doesn’t want to have a baby? What if Lara is enough for him? He’s always saying how he’s not sure he’s enough for her. What if the thought of spreading himself more thinly is too much?