‘THEY’LL BE THERE by now.’
‘I know. Are you okay?’
‘Why wouldn’t I be?’ Georgia picked up the pot Matteo had just put onto the draining board and started to dry it.
Matteo was scrubbing the next pot. ‘There were a lot of tears at the airport yesterday. From Kate, anyway.’ An eyebrow quirked in her direction. ‘You are much tougher, I think.’
Georgia shrugged, her gaze sliding away from his. ‘I just don’t cry.’
‘What...never? I have five sisters and a mother who cry all the time. I cry sometimes. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.’
Yes. She could remember the times she had seen tears glinting in his eyes. Happy tears that were evoked by tapping into the enormous love he had for his family.
He had an infinite capacity for love, this man, didn’t he?
When he’d had his hand on her belly that night, she could imagine that he was already feeling that love for a child that he still had no idea he had a close connection with.
There it was again.
That pressure.
The feeling that the account in the bank of time she’d believed she had was rapidly draining.
‘Just because I don’t cry on the outside doesn’t mean I don’t feel things. And Kate was upset that she couldn’t be here to be my birth partner. She said that she’d tried to delay the start of her new job but just couldn’t make it work when we can’t be sure of an exact date.’
‘It can’t be far away.’ Matteo’s head turned again. ‘Look how far back you have to stand from the bench.’
‘I know. I won’t be able to reach the steering wheel of my car soon because my arms won’t be long enough. Just as well I’m allowed to work from home until I start my maternity leave officially.’
‘That decides it, then.’
‘Decides what?’ Georgia could feel her eyes widening. Oh, help...the pressure had just kicked up another notch. How had she become so used to the luxury of thinking she had plenty of time to pick the right moment to tell Matteo what he had to know? Relaxing enough to find an excuse every time anything like an opportunity presented itself because she couldn’t figure out a way of softening the shock by giving him some kind of a warning.
Opportunities like now, when they were sharing such a domestic task like washing dishes. When they were becoming so at ease with each other’s company. Matteo had said he would never force himself on her and he’d proved that his word was his bond in the last couple of weeks. He’d been nothing more than a perfect flatmate.
A friend.
But that tone in his voice suggested something was about to change.
‘I can’t move back to Luke’s apartment.’
‘Oh?’ It wasn’t that Georgia wanted him to move out but the decisiveness of this statement was a little disturbing. What if he simply decided he had no intention of moving out of her life, full stop?
That was a battle she might not want to win. It could well be only wishful thinking but the idea of having Matteo in her life for ever had a glow of being as close to perfect as anything could get.
‘Not yet, anyway. Not when you’ll need someone to drive your car. To get groceries, for example.’
‘I can order online. They deliver these days, you know.’
Matteo scowled at her. ‘You might need to go to the hospital.’
A flutter of something like panic was trying to make itself felt. It wouldn’t be perfect to have Matteo here for ever. Arguing with every decision she tried to make.
Taking control...
‘I have a phone.’ Her voice tightened. ‘I could call you.’
‘You might need to go in a hurry.’
Muscles in Georgia’s jaw tightened. ‘I can call an ambulance. I know a few people who work there and they’d get here pretty fast.’
‘You want me to move out?’
If she said yes, would he pack his bag and leave instantly?
She wasn’t ready for that. If he left, it would be even easier to avoid finding the right moment to tell him.
‘Um...’ Georgia bit her lip. This was getting onto dangerous territory. Her mind was spinning.
There was a soft chant as background to the conflicting thoughts.
Tell him...tell him...tell him...
‘Ah...maybe not quite yet. There won’t be much room when the...when the...’
‘Baby arrives. I get it.’
But he didn’t get it. Georgia had slammed on the mental brakes when the word ‘babies’ had been about to emerge. She’d sworn Kate to secrecy about that, on the grounds that she wanted to surprise everyone she knew. It was gratifying to know that she hadn’t even told Luke. Or maybe she had. Maybe guys didn’t pass on that sort of information because it wasn’t interesting enough.
The moment he knew she was carrying twins, the game would be over. He’d know that she was bigger than expected for dates and that her pregnancy wasn’t nearly as advanced as she’d let him assume. It would force the truth to come out.
‘When is it due?’
‘You never know with first babies.’
The response was evasive. Despite trying to make that chant go away by giving in to it, something was overriding her determination and making it impossible.
‘They’re rarely on time,’ she added, a little desperately, ‘and usually late.’
She hurriedly poked the last pot lid into the cupboard and then reached for the drainer to stand it upright at the end of the bench. But Matteo was reaching for it as well and his hand caught her wrist.
‘I need to know,’ he said quietly. ‘My mother and sisters are putting pressure on for me to go home for a few days. My work schedule will allow it in a couple of weeks but that could be just the wrong time. I want to be here for you.’ He was making circles on her wrist with his thumb. ‘I could be your birth partner instead of Kate if you like.’
The sensation of those circles on her skin was travelling up Georgia’s arm like wildfire, obliterating every other thought that was still spinning. Up her arm, through her chest and straight down to an area low in her belly. It felt odd to experience a bolt of pure desire like this. Did pregnant woman still have sex when they were the size of a small elephant?
Would anyone other than the father of the baby even want to?
And, if he did, how exactly did they make it work?
She closed her eyes on a long blink as that thought pushed the others away. She might know a way...
Matteo’s thumb stilled. ‘What is this from?’ he asked quietly. ‘This scar? I’ve been wondering about it...’
Someone throwing a bucket of iced water into her face could have had a similar effect on dousing that desire. For a moment, Georgia froze.
She’d already sensed that this was an opportunity to tell Matteo the truth. Or to at least tell him when her due date was so that he could work it out for himself and force a stop to this horrible procrastination. More than that, she realised that a better opportunity would never present itself. She was actually being given a chance to offer the foundation of any excuses for her deception before she dropped the bombshell of Matteo’s impending fatherhood.
But, yet again, she couldn’t do it.
Memory was such a bizarre thing. A smell could evoke a feeling of being straight back in your childhood, for instance. A thumb touching a jagged scar could suddenly burn, as though she could feel the pain of her arm being jammed in that car door all over again. She could definitely feel the shudder of remembered fear that had rippled down her spine.
She had to snatch her arm away.
‘Don’t...’ she whispered. ‘Please... I don’t want to talk about it. I...can’t...’
* * *
He couldn’t let this go.
Okay, he’d said he wasn’t going to force himself on her and he’d had no intention of pushing her at a pace she wasn’t comfortable with.
But this was important.
No...it was more than that. Matteo’s instincts were finely honed for signs and symptoms in patients that could mean that their condition was becoming critical.
This felt critical.
He followed Georgia into the sitting room. Already, she had picked up a sheaf of papers from work and seemed to be focused on reading them.
Shutting him out.
He sat beside her on the couch. Silently, for a long moment, as he tried to think of what to say that wasn’t going to make that barrier even more solid.
‘If you want to watch television, that’s fine.’ Georgia’s voice was tight. ‘I can go and work in my room.’
‘I don’t want to watch television,’ Matteo said quietly. ‘I want to talk to you.’
She was silent.
‘You don’t have to tell me,’ he added. ‘But I’d really like you to. I care about you, cara—you know that. I get the feeling that that scar on your arm is more than just physical and... I want to know you better. To understand...’
It was that last word that seemed to find a chink in her armour. The papers drifted onto her lap as she closed her eyes.
‘My arm got broken when I was five years old. A compound fracture. I’ve always told people that it happened when I fell off a pony but...it didn’t. It came from having it slammed in a car door.’
‘Dio mio...’ Matteo’s stomach churned at the thought of that pain. ‘How did that happen?’
‘My father did it.’
Now he felt sick. He’d been right, hadn’t he, when he’d wondered if someone had abused Georgia to make her fearful of men in some way.
And that meant that the violence had been deliberate, not accidental.
‘Right before he pushed my mother out of the way. So hard that she fell and hit her head on the pavement. She was still trying to get up as we drove away. I saw her out of the back window...’
Georgia Bennett never cried on the outside, but Matteo could hear the sobs of a terrified child behind her words.
He had to gather Georgia into his arms. To hold her. The papers slid from her lap onto the floor but she didn’t seem to notice. She rested her head in the hollow beneath his shoulder and, slowly, started speaking again.
‘He took me to a hospital, of course. The police came and I got taken home to my mother eventually but it was the start of fear for both of us. My father had become very religious and he made it his life’s mission to make amends for the shame of the one-night stand that had brought me into the world, even though he’d wanted nothing to do with me when I was born. We had to keep moving. Trying to hide...’
It was an effort to keep the anger from his voice. ‘Where is he now—this monster who was no father to you?’
‘He’s dead. He was killed in a fight. Stabbed by someone who disagreed with his lay preaching on a street corner.’ He could feel the movement of Georgia’s chest as she let her breath out in a sigh. ‘My mum said it was karma.’
‘It was certainly a good thing. You were safe...’
‘I was still afraid. My mother developed epilepsy. The doctors thought it could have had something to do with a head injury that was never investigated properly that day I broke my arm. It was a petit mal seizure that probably caused her to step out onto a road...in front of a bus. I had just started work on the road after graduating from university.’
‘Oh, no...you didn’t find out by arriving on scene, did you?’ Matteo’s heart was breaking. He couldn’t bear the thought of this story getting even worse.
‘No...’ Georgia tilted her head to look up at him. A hint of a smile tugged at one corner of her mouth. ‘You’re right... I hadn’t actually ever thought of that. It could have been worse...’
No, it couldn’t. Matteo tightened his hold on Georgia as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. He’d guessed that there was something important about that scar. That it represented much more than simply a physical injury.
But this...
This was so huge he couldn’t even begin to imagine how deeply it could have shaped a young life.
He needed to process this.
Thank goodness his instincts told him to back off. To take things slowly. To let Georgia choose when—or if—to invite him further into her life.
Telling him this had opened a door onto a space that was totally new.
A space that instinct told him nobody else had ever been allowed access to.
‘There’s something else I should tell you.’
He could feel the tension in her body now. Could feel her struggle.
‘You don’t have to,’ he whispered. ‘Not right now.’ He stroked her hair. ‘We have all the time in the world, cara. I’m not going anywhere. Not yet. I love you.’
She still felt incredibly tense. Trembling, almost, as if she was still afraid.
So he kept holding her, until he could feel that tension ebbing.
And then, when she looked up to catch her gaze, he kissed her again.
‘You need to go to bed, tesoro. You need to sleep.’
‘I don’t want you to stop holding me right now,’ she whispered. ‘I love you, too.’
‘I don’t have to stop holding you.’ Matteo murmured, but his words were coming out without him giving them much thought at all.
Georgia had spoken so quietly he wondered whether he’d actually heard that last bit. Had she really just told him that she loved him? He wanted to ask if it was really true. If those barriers were truly vanquished. But that would make this moment more about him than Georgia, wouldn’t it? If it was true, she would tell him again and he could be patient. Like his patience in getting closer to this woman he loved, it would be worth the wait.
‘I could still hold you while you sleep, if you’d like that.’
And that would be all he would do. Just be there for her. Holding her. Willing her to believe that not all men were untrustworthy.
She was very, very still in his arms now.
And then she pushed herself up from the couch and stood there in front of him.
Her outstretched hand an invitation.