Surprise Baby, Second Chance

by Therese Beharrie

  She blew out a breath. ‘People use that term so easily. Hypochondriac. I remember a friend of mine calling a colleague a hypochondriac because she’d take sick leave often. And I found myself asking her whether she knew what that really meant.’

  She stepped away from the door now, and began pacing. ‘It was terrible, and I felt so bad afterwards. Because her explanation was so pathetic, and didn’t come close to what it’s really like. How the person can feel themselves suffering. Or how they can see themselves dying. The panic, the anxiety. How they can never truly believe that things are going to be okay. How they can’t fully enjoy life because one day they believe life is going to destroy them.’

  She didn’t mention what it was like for the people around the hypochondriac. How they’d constantly be waiting for the anxiety, for the panic to come. How that would make them anxious and panicked. How they’d doubt themselves. Had they handled it properly? Had they done the right thing to help? Had they helped at all?

  How, even after the person was gone, they’d still feel the effects of it.

  She stopped when her legs went weak and bent over, waiting for it to get better. And when it did she stood, and saw the conflicting emotions on Aaron’s face. He wanted to help her and yet he didn’t know if he could.

  Her own fault.

  ‘I’m sorry—I didn’t mean to go on about it.’

  ‘I asked.’

  ‘I shouldn’t have spilled it all out on you like that.’

  She walked to the couch, sank down on it.

  ‘You should have,’ he said when he took the seat opposite her. ‘You should have told me sooner.’

  ‘Apparently there’s a lot I should have told you.’ She gave him a wry smile. ‘And with all my talking too, I hadn’t told you any of it.’

  ‘It’s part of the reason you left.’

  She stiffened, her heart racing. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘There’s a reason why, with all your talking, you didn’t tell me about your mother. Or open up about it,’ he said quietly when she opened her mouth to protest. ‘It’s probably why you didn’t tell me about the lump in your breast either.’

  ‘No,’ she denied. But she’d started shaking. He was awfully close to the truth.

  ‘Yes,’ he told her. ‘You’ve had to be brave for your mother for so long. You don’t know how not to be.’

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  ROSA RELEASED A sharp breath and nodded. ‘I suppose you’re right.’

  And yet, somehow, Aaron felt as if he’d got it wrong. Not entirely, he thought, looking at the pensive expression on her face. But there was relief there too, which made him think that there was something else.

  ‘You should be able to talk with me. Or you should have been able to talk with me,’ he corrected himself when that annoying voice in his head reminded him that they were no longer together.

  ‘I’ve made a lot of mistakes with you,’ she admitted softly, and his chest tightened.

  ‘I know. I’m sorry.’

  ‘Why are you apologising?’

  ‘Some of those mistakes were my fault.’

  He threaded his fingers together, braced his arms on his thighs, but he refused to drop his head like he wanted to. No, he would face her. He would face the mistakes that he’d made. Especially now, after hearing about her mother’s issues.

  He hadn’t known before. Or, more accurately, he hadn’t been paying enough attention. He vaguely remembered her mentioning her mother’s hypochondria but, since he’d only ever heard it used in the way she’d described her colleague using it, he hadn’t thought much of it until now.

  He should have. He should have been more attentive. He should have done his part for her.

  ‘I don’t understand how my mistakes could have been your fault.’

  ‘I shouldn’t have let you make them.’

  Her eyes narrowed. ‘Let me? I don’t think that’s the correct phrase.’

  ‘I don’t mean it that way.’

  ‘Then how do you mean it?’

  He opened his mouth to explain, and yet every explanation he could think of sounded wrong. And exactly the way she’d thought he’d meant it.

  ‘I was...older than you when we married,’ he tried eventually. ‘I should have...helped you.’

  ‘Helped me...with what?’

  ‘Helped you see that perhaps marrying me wasn’t the best idea.’

  Her expression twisted into one that would have been charming had the words he’d just said not turned his heart inside out.

  ‘I...’ She blew out a breath. ‘No, Aaron. That’s not one of the mistakes I was talking about.’ She pushed up from her seat now, sat down next to him, curling her legs under her. ‘It wasn’t a mistake marrying you.’ She closed her eyes. ‘At least, not for the reasons you mean.’

  ‘But it was a mistake.’

  She let out a breath again and leaned forward, taking his hand. ‘I don’t remember ever being happier than that moment you proposed to me. It was like...a light in a terrible darkness that I couldn’t get out of. You helped me get out of it.’

  ‘You were grieving for your mother.’ He didn’t know why he was still speaking. About his fears. About all the things he’d realised since she’d walked into the room. Since she’d left four months ago. ‘I should have given you more time.’

  ‘So why didn’t you?’

  ‘Because I—’

  ‘What?’ she prompted softly when he broke off and didn’t continue. ‘Because you what?’

  ‘Because I made a promise to your mother to take care of you.’ There was a stunned silence, and then her hand left his. He turned to her. ‘She didn’t ask me to marry you. Just to make sure you’d be okay. It seemed like a natural thing to do because I loved you. And I wanted to live my life in case... Before it was too late.’

  She didn’t respond. Instead, she shifted back and stared blankly at her hands in her lap.

  ‘Rosa—’

  ‘No—’ she cut him off in a hoarse voice ‘—you just told me one hell of a thing. I need... I need time.’

  ‘Okay.’

  He watched helplessly as she stood and began pacing again. He couldn’t say more than he had. Nor could he do anything to make her feel better. So he watched. And waited.

  ‘How do I know?’ she asked suddenly. ‘How do I know that your proposal wasn’t just because of my mother?’

  ‘We’d been dating over a year before I proposed.’

  ‘So what?’ She stopped in front of him and rested her hands on her hips. ‘So what, Aaron? It was a year. Sure, we were friends for a year before that. But what does it matter? We spent most of our time together at the hospital. Can we even call that dating?’

  ‘We got to know each other during that time,’ he replied measuredly. ‘You got a job designing clothes without any qualifications when you were nineteen. Now you’re an incredible success.’

  ‘Because of your mother.’

  ‘My mother might have helped spur it along with her connections, but you got your foot in the door by yourself.’

  She clenched her jaw. ‘Those are facts. I shared facts with you.’

  ‘I learnt that your drive got you to where you were. And that drive came from a passion to create. That creating calms your mind. That it helps you make sense of things.’ Her expression turned softer, and feeling hopeful, he continued. ‘I know that your family life was hard. That your father and brothers were hopeless with your mother’s disease—and now I realise how deep that goes—but that it taught you to be strong. Brave.’

  ‘Too brave,’ she offered with a smile.

  ‘Only when it comes to trusting the person you agreed to spend the rest of your life with.’ Silence pulsed between them, reminding them that they were no longer in that place. But neither of them addressed it. ‘Beside
s, I bought the ring I gave you long before your mother spoke to me.’

  Her hands curled into fists, but not before he saw that she was still wearing her ring. He wasn’t sure how he’d missed that, but the fact had hope beating in his heart, healing some of the pain there.

  ‘You’re lying.’

  ‘I had the ring made the day after you showed me how to dance.’

  She stared at him. Shook her head. ‘Now I know you’re lying.’

  He smiled. ‘I’m not.’

  ‘But that went terribly.’

  ‘Only because your instruction ability left much to be desired.’

  ‘Excuse me?’ she said. ‘I’m a terrific teacher. The entire reason we were able to do our wedding dance was because of me.’

  ‘You, and the dance instructor I hired to show me how to do the steps after each of our lessons.’

  She gasped. ‘You did not.’

  His smile widened. ‘I did.’

  She stared at him a while longer and then shook her head. ‘This is a betrayal.’

  ‘Apparently,’ he replied, amused. ‘Because you’ve forgotten the reason I mentioned the dancing in the first place.’

  ‘Firstly—’ she lifted a finger ‘—I taught you to dance out of the goodness of my heart. The reason it went so badly was because you have two left feet. Secondly—’ a second finger lifted ‘—I didn’t want to teach you our wedding dance. I remembered how badly it went the first time. The only reason I did it was because I didn’t want you to look silly when we danced in front of all your fancy colleagues. Though now, of course,’ she muttered darkly, ‘I wish I’d left you to embarrass yourself. And thirdly—’ a third finger lifted, and then she threw both hands in the air ‘—why on earth would that make you want to marry me?’

  He stood now, ignoring the way her eyes widened when he took her hand and put it on his shoulder, before resting one hand on her waist and taking her other hand in his.

  ‘Because,’ he said as he started swaying, ‘I could smell your perfume when we did. It made me realise I’d be okay if that was the only scent I’d smell for the rest of my life. And having you in my arms made me think that I’d be okay if that was the only thing I could feel for the rest of my life.’ He pulled her closer until her body was pressed against his. Something akin to belonging washed over him. ‘I also loved how hard you tried to make me think you weren’t annoyed with me. And that smile you’d give me every time I’d step on your toes.’

  ‘You’re doing pretty great now.’

  ‘That’s because I always knew how to dance,’ he said with a crooked smile. Felt it widen when she frowned at him.

  ‘But the instructor?’

  ‘Didn’t exist.’

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘It’s simple, really,’ he said, and stopped moving. ‘I’d lie about anything if it gave me an opportunity to do this.’

  He lowered his lips onto hers.

  * * *

  She’d seen it coming. In the way his eyes had first softened, then heated. She could have stopped it. Should have. Instead, she closed her eyes and let herself be swept away by her husband’s kiss.

  Oh, how she’d missed it. The way his lips knew how to move against hers. The way his tongue knew how to tangle with hers. It sent shivers down her spine just as intensely as it had the first time he’d kissed her. The butterflies were there too, as was a need she hadn’t known could exist inside her. As was a want she didn’t think would ever go away.

  His arms tightened around her. Pulling her in. Keeping her safe. She could feel the strength in them and then in his hands, when they moved from her waist, down over her butt, squeezing gently before coming back up over her hips.

  Her body shuddered under his touch. Her breath hitched as he deepened the kiss. As his hands moved up over the sides of her breasts to take her face in his hands. He was being gentle, sweet, and she would have protested against it—against the control she knew it required from him—if she wasn’t so desperate for the taste of him.

  As it was, her hands couldn’t stay still. They slid over the grooves of his muscles. His back, his shoulders, his arms. Down between them, over his chest. His abdomen trembled under her touch when her hands lowered, and she felt the effect she had on him press against her stomach.

  ‘Wait,’ he said, gently pulling away from her. Which was strange, she thought, a bit dazed, since the expression on his face was fierce, obviously pained, and far from gentle. ‘I can’t do this with you.’

  ‘Do what?’

  ‘This.’ His hands tightened slightly on her arms and then he took a step back. Controlled, she thought again, and a violent wave of resentment washed over her.

  ‘You were the one who started this, Aaron,’ she said in a low voice.

  ‘It was...a mistake.’

  He walked away from her and the pain that spasmed in her chest was so intense she thought her heart had broken.

  ‘I’ll add it to the list, I suppose.’

  ‘Another thing that’s my fault.’

  ‘Oh, stop that,’ she snapped. Hurt and anger had done dangerous things to her patience. ‘Nothing that happened between us is your fault. I married you because I wanted to. I left you because I had to. That’s it. End of story. I’m not your mother, Aaron. You don’t have to take responsibility for me. Or for something that you didn’t cause.’

  CHAPTER NINE

  ‘IT’S NOT THE SAME.’

  ‘Isn’t it?’ she shot back. ‘Because that’s what I’m hearing right now.’

  Aaron couldn’t describe the emotions going through him. It was a mixture of desire and annoyance. Anger and frustration. All because of her. He shook his head.

  ‘I’m not going to have this conversation with you.’

  ‘What else are you going to do?’ she exclaimed. ‘Walk out through the locked door?’

  ‘It won’t be locked for long,’ he said, and made the kind of spur-of-the-moment decision he’d warned himself against. He walked to the door and then took a couple of steps back. Enough so he could plough through it.

  ‘Aaron?’ There was panic in her voice. ‘What are you doing? Aaron,’ she said again when he didn’t answer. When he began to move forward, she shouted, ‘No!’

  It wasn’t that she’d shouted at him. It was more the complete panic in her tone that stopped him. A few seconds later, she was standing in front of the door, her back against it, arms spread out, shielding the door with her body.

  ‘Are you out of your mind?’ she said in a shaky voice. ‘You can’t break down this door.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘What would happen if it didn’t work?’ she demanded. ‘You would no doubt hurt yourself, and there’s absolutely nothing in here that would help me look after you.’ Her chest was heaving. ‘I wouldn’t be able to call for an ambulance, and who knows how long it’ll be until we get out of here?’

  ‘Careful,’ he said quietly. Dangerously. ‘You almost sound like you care.’

  ‘I do care,’ she said through clenched teeth. ‘I wish I didn’t, but I do.’

  ‘Then what’s the real reason you left?’

  ‘Because I found a lump in my breast. Because I immediately thought I had cancer. Because I remembered a doctor had told me that I should get screened for breast cancer. Because, in some stupid, misguided cling to independence, I decided against it.’ She sucked in air. Continued. ‘Because I thought about how my life would change while I went through chemotherapy. Because I knew I couldn’t put you through that again.’ Her voice caught at the end and he cursed himself for forcing her to speak.

  ‘Rosa—’

  ‘I told the doctor that my mother had cancer, that I hadn’t been screened for it, and they gave me all the tests. I sat through the whole process fearing the worst and in the end there was nothing. Nothing
.’

  She lifted her hand and let it fall on her last word. ‘So I’d insisted, and imagined it all, and there was nothing.’ Her eyes shone when she lifted them to his. ‘Just like my mother.’

  And suddenly Aaron understood why it had affected her so badly. And why she really had left because of the lump. With quick steps he pulled her into his arms and held her as her body shook.

  He closed his eyes. Told himself he was an absolute jerk for pushing. And when the shaking subsided he pulled back and saw that her eyes were dry. That it hadn’t been tears at all, just...shaking.

  ‘You’re not like your mother.’

  ‘You don’t know that.’

  ‘I know it just as well as I know that you’re not like my mother either.’

  ‘And where does that get us?’ she asked, pulling away from him now. ‘We still have a broken relationship.’

  ‘Because you were scared about having cancer.’

  She stared at him and then shook her head sadly. ‘No. No, that’s not it at all.’

  ‘Tell me then,’ he said urgently, an unknown fear compelling his words. ‘Tell me what I’m not understanding.’

  ‘I don’t want to be in a relationship with anyone, Aaron. That’s why I shouldn’t have married you. That’s why I left.’

  * * *

  How could she have hurt him more than she already had?

  She hadn’t thought it possible, and yet here she was, watching the hope on his face transform into something uglier. And then his expression went blank, his calm façade back in place.

  She hated it.

  ‘I’ll file the divorce papers as soon as I get home.’

  ‘No, Aaron—’

  ‘No, what?’ he said almost conversationally. ‘You don’t want to be divorced? Because that’s the reality of our situation, Rosa. You don’t want to be in a relationship with anyone. You made that clear four months ago. You’ve made it clear now.’

  ‘But... I don’t want to be divorced either,’ she replied lamely.

  ‘You have to make a decision,’ he said coldly now. The tone she’d heard him use with opposing council. ‘You can’t have it both ways. If you want to fix this, we’ll make that decision together and try our best to fix it. If you don’t, I file for divorce when I get back and we end this. Either or. Not both.’