‘I’m sorry I hurt you. Please let me speak.’
She opened her mouth to refuse.
He saw it in her eyes.
But then her lids dropped and she gave a single nod. ‘I need to sit down.’
‘No problem. Sit here.’
He guided her to the big sofa of black leather, sat her down. And decided it might be better to stand while he tried to gather his scattered wits.
‘You shouldn’t have left me like that,’ he blurted out the first thing that came into his head and could have kicked himself, hard.
Those violet eyes went big and sparked. ‘Me?’
‘Yeah, you,’ he snapped with sheer temper. ‘I admit I’m an idiot, but there was no need to make us suffer like this.’
‘Let me get this straight. Your behaviour is my fault?’
‘That I’ve been tortured for the last six weeks? Yeah it’s your fault.’ Then he hissed out a breath. ‘The rest of it is my fault.’ By the look on her face he was on dangerous ground, but he took his life in his hands and brushed the back of his hand down her pale cheek. ‘I am sorry.’
She refused to look at him. ‘For what?’
He gaped at her.
‘I knew it,’ he said through gritted teeth. ‘I knew you’d want me on my knees. Okay. I’m sorry for trying to keep you safe without talking to you about my plans. I’m sorry for not respecting your right to live your life the way you want to. I’m sorry for not telling you how proud I am of you. I’m sorry for behaving like an idiot.’
His breathing was ragged.
But now she turned her head, looked out the window and a tiny smile curved her mouth.
‘Is that it?’
The little witch.
Everything he’d gone through, the pain, the hurt and that fucking newspaper article roared into his psyche along with absolute fury that she looked like hell.
‘You want to get pissed off with me, fine. But if you think I’m sitting back while you pull the I’m-a-big-girl-who-needs-nobody-and-nothing routine and put yourself in danger while working with
First Step
then you’re wrong on so many levels. Look at the state of you. Why didn’t you tell me you’ve been feeling unwell? Why didn’t you tell me that bitch of a journalist had been hassling you?’
‘I didn’t...’
‘I’m not finished speaking. We’re in a relationship and guess what? You are not the big cheese here. You don’t get to the make the rules without running them past me. And if you can’t or won’t deal with that then you just let me know, sister. If all you want is a friend with fuck benefits then fine, when I’m itchy and you’re itchy, we’ll boogie. No problem.’
‘But...’
‘Quiet! So you’re a busy bee and people rely on you, well guess what? I’m busy too and people rely on me too, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have time for you or don’t care about you. So you need to get all your ducks in a row. You want me? You’ve got all of me. I’d just like the same consideration. I don’t want a little-bitty piece of you. I don’t want to be squeezed into your hectic timetable. I want all of you.’
Pushed too far, he grabbed her arms, pulled her to her feet.
‘Look at me when I tell you that I love you.’ She closed her eyes tight and something like terror ran up his spine. ‘Don’t do that. Don’t turn away from me. I know I turned away from you. But I was scared, and you were right. I’m not good enough for you. The feelings I have for you terrify me. Please, Coco, look at me.’
She did and he saw it wasn’t too late.
‘I’ve never said this to anyone before,’ his voice went rough. He cleared his throat. ‘I need you to forgive me. I know I don’t deserve it. I’m scared of how you make me feel. My love for you sometimes feels too much for me to handle. And I overcompensate.’
‘I know the feeling. My feelings for you scare me. But I don’t want to become a victim or ruled by your needs. I have needs too.’
She pulled out of his arms, looked away.
Rafe saw the act as rejection.
The fist around his heart clenched.
But then she turned.
Her eyes met his and held. ‘I love you.’
Heart bursting out of his chest, he moved towards her.
But she held her hand up with the stop sign. ‘Don’t.’
‘Say it again.’ When her brow creased, he kept his eyes on hers. ‘Say it again.’
‘I love you,’ she whispered.
Rafe closed his eyes.
Okay.
He could do this.
She didn’t want him to touch her.
Okay.
‘Talk to me,’ he demanded.
Silence.
Coco’s chin lifted, big violet eyes met his.
‘So, have you and my father set the date?’
Bemused he simply stared at her. ‘Sorry?’
‘Wedding date.’
‘Nope.’
‘Aww, come on. This is me you’re dealing with. You used to bounce me on your knee.’
He winced. ‘Don’t remind me.’
‘You’re too old for me. I need a young virile man,’ she said in a silky voice.
Offended, he sat beside her on the couch, grabbed her. ‘I know what you need.’
Her smile was a challenge. ‘Do you?’
‘Oh yeah.’
He pulled her into him, but her hand slapped against his chest.
‘No rough stuff. I’m fragile.’
Now he frowned as he studied her face. She did look peaky.
‘Are you sick?’
‘Hmm. Yes and no.’
‘Coco?’
‘Good job you’re sitting down,’ her voice wobbled.
Fear for her fisted in his gut. ‘What is it?’
‘I want you in my life, by my side. I know you want marriage. I know you want it all. I know you’d prefer to be married. And I know marriage would be easier on the children.’
She waited four breaths before he said,
‘Children?’
‘Well, one. The one I’m carrying.’
Very slowly he stood and stared at her as if she was speaking in tongues.
‘
You
are carrying my child?’
The way he said it made her pout. ‘It would appear so.’
‘But you don’t like children.’
‘That’s not strictly accurate. I don’t feel a universal love for
all
children.’
Now his hands scrubbed through his inky hair, his face.
‘I love you. I love you. But I’m a selfish bastard. I want my child and I want you. I’ll sign a pre-nup.’
‘You think this is about money?’
‘Nope. But I’ll do it. Call it crossing the t’s dotting the i’s.’
And he would too she could see it in his eyes, in the sincerity of his deep voice.
‘I don’t want a pre-nup. I’ll be a terrible mother, a terrible wife,’ she admitted in a shaky voice.
Rafe shook his head very slowly.
‘No you won’t. You’ll be fucking amazing. And a fucking amazing wife.’
‘You’re swearing.’
He sat and grabbed her, held her tight against his heart. And that strong heart drummed under her cheek.
‘No fucking wonder.’
She didn’t deserve him.
She didn’t deserve his love.
She didn’t deserve his patience.
He gave everything.
She gave nothing.
The tears she’d been holding at bay for months, years, choked her and she let go with hard sobs of despair for the mother she’d never known. For the way her father had battled with his fear of letting her go and for the man who held her in his arms.
Rafe held her tight.
His heart thundered in his chest, in his throat, in his ears.
And he knew right then that he had to give in.
‘If the thought of it upsets you this much, it doesn’t matter about marriage. Look, stop it. You’re fucking killing me. We’ll get through this. Please, Coco. For Christ’s sake, stop crying. Don’t. Don’t cry. That’s not playing fair.’
Pushing him away, she hunted in her pockets for her father’s hanky, blew her nose, then sent him a glare.
‘Do you think I’m crying over the likes of you? I’m pregnant. Pregnant women cry at the opening of an envelope. I love you. I’ve never said that to a man before and I don’t love you just because I’m pregnant with your spawn.’
His heart did a marvellous leap of sheer happiness.
But he managed to hold back from kissing her senseless.
Instead he gave her big eyes.
‘Did you just call our child, spawn?’
‘Yep. Not very maternal is it?’
He read the nerves, the fear and the tight knot in his gut loosened.
‘Scared?’
‘Bloody terrified.’
‘You’ll be an amazing mother.’
She sniffed, swiped her fingers across her cheeks. ‘What if I don’t love it?’
‘You’ll love ours.’
‘You know what this means, don’t you?’
‘What?’
‘I’ll need to make an honest man of you.’
Silence.
His eyelashes fluttered.
‘Why, Coco. Are you asking me to marry you? Don’t I get flowers, a ring?’
‘You’ll get a fat lip and a thick ear in a minute.’
‘I’ll make you happy. I promise.’
‘I know you’ll try.’
‘Don’t cry, baby. Please don’t cry.’
‘Why do a few tears bother you?’
‘Because your father will kill me, very slowly.’
She thought about that for the longest time, then shrugged. ‘I don’t want a diamond.’
‘You’ll take what you get. I was thinking tanzanite, the exact shade of your eyes, in white gold.’
‘You’ve been thinking about a ring?’
‘For weeks.’
‘You were so certain of me?’
‘No. But I hoped.’
Her eyes shut tight.
‘I’m not ready for this.’
How he found the strength to speak the words he’d never know.
He cleared his throat.
‘It’s your body. But I want you to know that I’m beyond happy that you’re carrying my child. I...’
Her fingertips pressed against his lips stopped him.
‘I want this baby too.’
‘I’ll be a good father, Coco. I promise.’
She sniffed gave him a dark look that only made him love her more.
‘Karma’s a bitch. Knowing my luck it will be a boy who’s the clone of his father.’
Chapter Forty Eight
Six months and one week later.
Rafe busied himself around the house waiting for his fiance to come home after her last board meeting at
First Step
before their baby entered the world.
In spite of Charles Monroe’s constant muttering under his breath, they’d decided the wedding, their small wedding, could wait until after the baby was born. And he was glad they’d waited because it was only now that the love of his life had begun to truly trust him, to trust them as a couple. He couldn’t remember a time when he’d felt so content or so happy. And Rafe was determined nothing was going to spoil Coco’s blissful serenity. The girl was absolutely glowing with health and happiness.
Tonight was going to be perfect, he assured himself.
The florist had delivered the flowers, in vases. He might be a new man but no way in hell was he going to attempt flower arranging. And they smelt fabulous.
He checked the time and told himself to get a move on. Crouching in front of the stainless steel wood burner, he added a couple of logs, watched flames dance along the wood.
Happy, he rose to cast a critical eye over the scene he’d set. The table for two was laid in front of a wall of windows with a view of the lake. The crisp white tablecloth he’d found in a drawer in a sideboard in the dining area.
The plates were white bone china; the heavy cutlery solid silver and the champagne glasses were Swedish crystal.
A sip of champagne wouldn’t hurt the baby - he’d read up on that.
In fact over the last six months he’d read up on everything and anything he could get his hands on about babies. It was very true that no military man worth his salt is happy without an instruction manual. And Rafael Cavendish was no exception, be it for his new family friendly Range Rover, or the state-of-the art baby seat that could have been designed by NASA.
At the moment his bedside reading, much to Coco’s side splitting hilarity, was titled ‘Commando Dad - Basic Training’, a handbook somewhat in the style of Basic Battle Skills, the Army bible given to new recruits. Rafe could get right behind the thinking of the author, ex Commando and father-of-three Neil Sinclair. When Coco and Louise read that babies were referred to as BT’s (baby troopers), toddlers as MT’s (mobile troopers). That home was referred to as ‘Base Camp’, the emptying of dirty diapers as ‘Bomb Disposal’ and a holiday was a ‘long-term major deployment’ their laughter rang loud and long. Which was nothing to the belly laughs of Coco’s brothers. But for a man who’d never changed a diaper in his life Rafe was undeterred and ready to follow the book’s fail-safe, ten point plan, laid out in clear and precise terms in a chapter called, ‘New Recruits: Surviving The First 24 Hours.’
Nico Ferranti had sobbed with laughter all the way through it and pointed out helpfully that the chapter included the universal truth that boys, without fail, will wee in your eye.
However, the father-very-soon-to-be was nothing if not determined and everything was going according to plan. The baby bag was packed with tiny baby grows, diapers, vests, hats and mittens knitted by auntie-to-be Louise. The mummy bag was packed too with energy bars, iPod with soothing music, massage oil scented with organic lavender. Plus he’d attended each and every single birthing class on each and every stage, including something called ‘transition’. Much to his eternal shame he’d winced in a store that sold breast pumps. Jesus, they looked like instruments of torture. Anyone who said women were the weaker sex needed their head examined.
Wild-eyed at the thought of what Coco would, very soon, go through he ignored the panic lurking in his belly and eyed the table again. There was something missing.
Candles!
Honey and Jezebel sat watching him with interest as he dashed into the dining area, rummaged through a cupboard, found a single white candle and stuck it in a candle stick right in the centre of the table set for two. For some reason the candle wouldn’t sit quite straight, but he didn’t have time to worry about it.
And music!
How could he have missed music?
Another dash, this time to the iPod deck. He scrolled through the extensive playlist found the soundtrack to Final Fantasy IV then nodded his appreciation after the first couple of bars.