by Renna Peak
Something softens in his face, and he smiles. Not the goofy, thinking-about-sex grin that he had a moment ago, but something genuine. “If I could write like you, I would. Believe me, my writing is probably worse than my speaking. Ask any of my old tutors.” He slides his hand down my arm to take my hand in his. “The only thing I know with absolute certainty… The only thing I can say that I know will not come out wrong is…” He lifts my hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to it. “I love you.”
The wrenching in my chest seems to melt away in an instant at his words. I could give myself to him—I could love him for eternity and never think about another thing again.
“Please, Justine…” He dips his head, looking into my eyes. “Will you let me love you?”
My eyes fill with tears. I know it’s the hormones—I know my brain isn’t functioning properly at the moment. But I give him a nod that might not even be perceptible, I’m so frozen in place.
He takes my other hand in his and guides me to the bed. We sit on the edge in silence for a moment, and he slips an arm around my waist. “I’ve missed holding you.”
I give another slight nod. I want to tell him how much I’ve missed being held—how feeling his touch now sends a pulse through me that I’ve never known before. It isn’t so much an electric feeling—it isn’t about lust, that much I’m sure of. It’s something warmer, deeper.
“We don’t…we don’t have to do anything else. Unless you want to, of course.”
I can’t tell him that sex is about the last thing I’ve been thinking about. I’ve had this deep yearning for the past several weeks—in between my bouts of vomiting—but I hadn’t been able to put my finger on what it was until this moment. And perhaps it was only a lack of human contact, but it seems to be something much more than that.
The lack of William’s contact.
I can’t turn to look at him—I keep my gaze on one of the knobs on the dresser in front of us. “I’ve missed you, William.”
His arm tightens around me. “You have no idea how much I’ve missed you.”
“But…” I bite my lip to stop the tears from flowing down my cheeks. “I—”
“I know.”
“You don’t know. I—”
“You’re frightened. And rightfully so. And I’ll tell you again, I’ll protect you. I’ll—”
“William.” I interrupt, still unable to meet his gaze. “That isn’t what I was going to say.”
“You’re not frightened?”
I finally turn to face him. “Of course I’m frightened. I just learned I’m pregnant, and I’m completely alone—”
“You aren’t alone now.”
“For the moment. Who’s to say you won’t decide you know what’s best for me again? Who’s to say after you bed me, you’ll decide I’m better off without you?”
“I’m giving you my word—”
“And did you not give me your word when you married me?”
He frowns, releasing his grasp to fold his hands in his lap. “I’ll apologize to you every day—every hour—for the rest of my life if I need to.” He shakes his head. “It was a mistake, letting you go. I should have fought—”
“You didn’t give me the opportunity to fight for us, William.”
He nods to himself a few times as he stares down at his clasped hands. “I deserve your punishment. I deserve whatever it is you feel you need to do. But I don’t know what else to say. I’ve offered to marry you again, and that offer still stands—”
“I’ll not be marrying you because I’m pregnant. If you’re feeling some sense of obligation now—”
“But I do.” He looks up at me. “Feel obligated, that is. I am obligated. I’ll do whatever it takes—”
“I don’t…” I let out a long sigh. “I don’t know what to do. I’ve been…waffling.”
He nods a few times. “It’s understandable. You thought you would be alone. But things are different now.”
“Because you’ve been back in my life for a few hours?” I tilt my head, frowning. “William, you can’t honestly think I’m going to believe you.”
He closes his eyes for a moment, shaking his head. He opens them again and returns his gaze to mine. “If I have to spend eternity trying to convince you, I will. I’m not giving up this time.”
“Because of my pregnancy.”
“Because of our child. Yes.” He shakes his head. “Perhaps if you start thinking of it that way…” He glances at my midsection. “If you start calling it your baby—our baby—it will make it more real.”
Babies. I can’t tell him that. Not now—not yet, anyway.
“But, Justine…” He pulls my hand into his again. “Please remember that I came here for you. For us. I didn’t know about our child until a little while ago. I came here because I wanted to profess my love for you. And that stands, regardless of anything else.”
I should admit—at least to myself—that this whole notion of him coming halfway across the world to announce his love for me is romantic. But I suppose my thoughts are still not quite clear on the entire matter.
My shoulders drop, again defeated. “William, I don’t think I can do this.”
“You don’t have to. Not alone, at any rate. I’ll be here for you every moment—”
I gently pull my hand from his. “I don’t mean the pregnancy—”
“Our baby—”
“My pregnancy.” I frown. “I’ve missed you. I’ll admit it—I admitted it before. But…”
“There is no but.” He pulls my hand into his again, kissing my knuckles. “I love you. And we’re together now. That’s all that matters.”
“How am I supposed to trust that, though? You told me you loved me before, and you still left. And I know…” Tears fill my eyes again. “I know I deserved it. I know I treated you terribly, and you had every right to walk away.”
“Justine…” I could swear I hear tears in his own voice. “I only did what I did—”
“I know. Out of a sense of duty.” I pull my hand away again. “But the timing… I mean, we had finally found some sort of peace—”
“Our families hadn’t. And it was the right thing to do at that moment.”
“I disagree. You’d accused me on many occasions of not wanting to fight for our marriage. But when the opportunity arose for you to end it—the first opportunity—you took it. You took the easy route. The route with no consequences. You got what you wanted, William.”
“I did not—”
“You did, though.” I stand, backing toward the door. “You got exactly what you wanted. And for as much as I might have hurt you during our brief marriage, you got to make the final cut. You got to deliver the fatal blow.”
“Justine…” He rises, walking toward me. “That isn’t how it was—”
“It is how it was. And it doesn’t matter what’s happening now. This…” I fold my hands over my abdomen. “This doesn’t matter.” I take another step away from him. “What matters—the only thing that matters—is that you broke my heart. And I can’t…” I shake my head at him a few times. “I won’t let you do it again.”
William
I leave her dormitory feeling utterly bereft. I offered her everything, laid my heart out on the line for her, and she threw it away.
She’s still frightened, I remind myself. She doesn’t trust you. And maybe, just maybe, if circumstances were different, I would take my time wooing her again, peeling back the layers, showing her in small ways day by day that I’m the man she needs me to be. That I can be there for our child.
Our child. I still can’t believe it. I find myself reaching out for the wall of the building, suddenly unable to support myself. I’m going to have a son or daughter. Just a couple of days ago, that wasn’t anything more than a distant possibility. How quickly things change.
I lean my head back against the wall, and I realize I’m laughing. Me, a father. It’s too amazing to even fathom. My body can’t seem to contain the news. My k
nees feel weak, my head light. The laughter continues to bubble out of me—so loud that passersby on the sidewalk start to give me funny looks.
But I don’t care. Let them think I’ve gone mad. Let them think I’m having a breakdown in the middle of the street. I want to shout it from the top of my lungs, let the whole world know, but I manage to restrain myself.
Justine is carrying my baby, and even if she never lets me back into her heart again, I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure that the child never wants for anything.
And if Justine continues to refuse your help? What then? That thought sobers me a little. If she refuses my help, then I’ll just take matters into my own hands. If she refuses to protect our child, then I’ll do it myself—even if that means taking the child back to Montovia with me. I understand there are deeper issues at play here, things she doesn’t want to share with me, but everything has changed. I’ll risk Justine’s wrath, even her hatred and contempt, if it means protecting the life we’ve created together.
With a sigh, I rub the side of my face. I want to help with Justine’s blessing—not against her will. I want to marry her again, to raise this child together, and to become a family. I don’t want to make decisions for her. But it’s hard to find an alternative when she’s being so stubborn.
Then I just have to convince her this is the right thing. That I’m serious about my intentions. If simply telling her that, laying it all out on the line, didn’t do the trick, then I need to figure out another way to convince her. Make some sort of grand gesture, if need be.
But what? What can I do to reestablish the connection we lost?
I begin to wander down the street. The rush of joy that filled me at the thought of our child has faded somewhat, and I’m left with all of my worries and frustrations. I already miss having her in my arms again. When I raise my hand to my face, I imagine I can still smell her on my fingers, but the scent is faint. The absence of her is almost painful.
I pass a local coffee shop, and I stare absently at the posters in the window as I walk by. There are fliers for all sorts of local events—open mic nights, a theater festival, charity runs, and an international dance recital by local students. I find myself staring at that final poster, and then it hits me—I know exactly how I might win back Justine.
With a grin, I whip out my mobile. I have work to do.
I spend all night and most of the next day preparing everything. I take a room in a local hotel for the night, but I don’t get very much sleep. Too much has happened in the last day, and I’m too anxious thinking through every aspect of my plan. After a night of tossing and turning, though, I’m still full of energy. My adrenaline won’t let me down now.
It costs me a small fortune, arranging everything so quickly. But I’ll pay whatever it costs. Do whatever it takes. Finally, when I’m certain everything is ready, I return to Justine’s dormitory.
She doesn’t answer when I knock. But I don’t let that dampen my spirits. I don’t know her schedule, and I don’t mind waiting for her, no matter how long it takes. I lean against her door, settling in.
As the minutes tick by, though, moving slowly into hours, I begin to worry. I fully expected her to have class or errands, but the longer I wait, the more I begin to wonder if she’s coming back at all. What if I’m too late? What if she ran off after our conversation last night and has no intention of returning?
I glance around. Plenty of people have passed by since I’ve been waiting here. Maybe one of her neighbors saw her leave or can tell me where she might be. I’ll knock on every door if I have to.
Right when I march over to the next door, though, I hear footsteps on the stairs. I spin around. Justine is coming up, and when her eyes land on me, she freezes.
“William—”
“One more chance, Justine. That’s all I ask of you.”
She drops her eyes. “I don’t know. I don’t have time for these games—”
“It’s not a game, I promise.” I stride over to her. “I have something special planned for us. Will you please come with me?” I grin and make a grand, sweeping bow. “It would mean the world to me, Princess. Please, let me be your Prince Charming again, if only for a night.”
When I look up, she appears to be fighting back a smile. But the wariness is still in her eyes.
“Just one night,” I tell her. “And don’t worry—you don’t have to sleep with me at the end of it. Not unless you want to, of course.”
This time she has an even harder time holding back her smile. “You never give up, do you?”
“Never. At least not where you are concerned.” I straighten fully. “What do you say, Justine?”
The uncertainty is back. She shifts her bag on her shoulder. “Fine. One night. But will you let me drop my things off first?”
A few minutes later, I’m leading her out onto the street. I can tell by the way she keeps glancing at me that she doesn’t know if she’s made the right decision by coming with me, but I intend to change her mind by the end of the night. With my arm gently looped through hers, I take her down the sidewalk. Our destination is only a few blocks away, and we arrive there in silence. She can probably feel my nerves—I can certainly sense hers.
I finally turn her toward a large hotel. On the bottom step, she stops. “If you’re just taking me to a hotel room—”
“I’m not, I promise.” I squeeze her arm. “Please trust me, Justine.”
She only hesitates for a moment before moving again. I lead her into the large, high-ceilinged lobby, then across the marble floor to a door on the far side.
Into a large, ornately decorated ballroom.
It took me hours to find a ballroom I could rent on such short notice. And several more hours—and lots and lots of money—to find last-minute floral decorations in the appropriate colors. The entire room is decorated in ivory and violet—the same colors of the decorations at our wedding. And there’s a string quartet waiting in the corner. The moment they see us, right on cue, they begin playing a waltz.
I turn to Justine, whose eyes are wide as she stares at the room.
“I thought it was time for a do-over,” I tell her. “So let’s start over from the beginning.” I extend my hand to her, smiling. “May I have this dance, Justine?”
Justine
My eyes are wide as I try to take everything in, but I nod at him all the same. He doesn’t hesitate, pulling me into his arms as we begin to glide around the dance floor.
He tilts his head to speak into my ear. “You always were a fabulous dancer.”
“You were always pretty good yourself.” I’m not sure what’s come over me—I can’t seem to decipher whatever it is that’s going on in my head. My heart is beating nearly out of my chest, though, and my stomach is turning cartwheels.
I close my eyes, allowing him to lead me, following his every move. This was the only place we were ever truly on the same page—following the same rhythm, at any rate. He doesn’t try to throw me off as he’s done so many times in the past, though. He seems to be holding onto me as tightly as I’m holding onto him.
And I am holding on—for dear life, it would seem. I’d like nothing more than for this moment to never end. I’ve missed the feeling of him pressed against my body, the scent of him filling my senses. I’ve missed feeling his breath on my skin, the way he seems to know exactly where to touch me. The way our bodies seem to mold together when we dance.
But like all dances, it’s over all too quickly. I try to pull away when the music ends, but William doesn’t let me go. Instead, he motions at the quartet, and they begin playing a different melody.
“I thought we’d liven things up for the second song. Do you remember this one?”
It’s the traditional Rosvalian folk tune that was playing at the Harvest Festival. I nod at him, and he pulls me into his arms again, swinging me around in time to the music.
I can’t help but smile. I can’t remember the last time I enjoyed myself so much—
it may very well have been at the festival we attended together all that time ago.
He laughs as he twirls me around, spinning me away before he pulls me back into his arms. And I think I laugh, too—perhaps I did need something like this. Time away from my life to remember that things don’t always have to be so serious.
The music ends again after a few minutes, and we’re still laughing as we stop dancing. We’re both a little out of breath after the folk dance.
William stops laughing a few seconds later, pulling my hands into his as he looks down into my eyes. “Tell me if you know this one.” He motions again at the quartet and they start to play another song.
I’m not sure what I was expecting, but this isn’t traditional or classical music. The tune is a faintly familiar contemporary piece.
He doesn’t give me long to think about it, pulling me into his arms again. He lifts my hand to his mouth, placing a kiss on the back of it as his other hand slides around my waist. He pulls me as close to him as we would possibly be while still clothed.
He keeps my hand clasped in his, kissing it every few moments. “Justine…”
I shake my head, lowering my voice to a whisper, though there’s no one nearby to overhear us. “Don’t ruin a perfectly good moment with one of your jokes.”
“This is no joke.” He looks down into my eyes, and I can see he’s telling the truth. There’s no hint of playfulness there—no trace of his silly sense of humor. “I’m perfectly serious.”
I search his eyes again, though I can’t say for what.
“I love you, Justine. I never knew it was possible to love someone like this. I never thought I could feel the things I feel for you.”
“William…”
“Before you argue with me…” His lips tick up into the slightest smile. “Just hear what I have to say.”
I wait for the punch line, but it doesn’t come. “Okay.”
“I want to be with you. I want to love you for the rest of my life. I want us to be together. I…I want us to raise our child together.” He stares down into my eyes for a long moment. “You need to understand that I mean every word I say. I didn’t know how else to tell you so that you’d listen.”