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“What do you think?”
Georgia toyed with the spoon, the cold metal against her fingertips strangely grounding. “You’re right,” she murmured.
“I often am.” His attempt at humour didn’t impact Georgia. He’d started this, and she was going to have her say, now that she had an opening.
“All of it. The way you were with me that night wasn’t okay.” She bit into her lip, surprised by the honestly. “It hurt. I was surprised by how much.”
His features tightened. “It wasn’t about you.”
Anger flared in her belly. “For you, it wasn’t about me. But I obviously didn’t feel that way.”
His Adam’s apple shifted as he swallowed. “All I could think about was her.”
Georgia’s heart throbbed strangely.
“I panicked.” His voice had a raw quality to it, as though the words were fresh from his soul, with no time for intonation or modulation to take effect. He stared into her eyes and her heart thumped hard. “I want to start again.”
She bit into her lip.
“I know that sounds ridiculous. But I’m asking if we can draw a line in the sand beneath that night, and start from now. Get to know one another a little.”
Her eyes widened. “But why?”
“Because we’re going to have a baby together. One way or another, we have to find a way to make this,” he gestured from himself to her, “work.”
He was right, and more than that, he’d apologized, in a meaningful and sincere way. She had a choice—to hold a grudge over what had happened between them, or move on and try to build a civil relationship with the father of her baby. She scooped some gelato into her mouth, lost in thought, unaware of the way his eyes trailed the spoon, clinging to her lips. “Okay,” she said, with a small nod.
“Okay?”
“Sure. Let’s try it your way. I agree, it would be better than this.”
“Good.” He frowned, as if unsure where to go next. “We should eat together tonight. Dinner.”
Her eyes widened. “Oh.” It was just a meal. Surely the most benign, easy interaction they could share? But something about his suggestion made her pulse explode. Was it because it could easily feel, if she let it, like a date?
“Okay,” she murmured once more. “We can do that. It’s just dinner.”
“Great. We’ll leave at six.” And with that, he strode from the kitchen, before Georgia could even clarify why they would ‘leave’ for dinner, when he had a very well stocked kitchen right in the house.
Georgia had packed lightly for her trip. She hadn’t wanted to be tied down, but rather footloose and fancy free for the first time in her adult life. She’d brought only two dresses with her that would be acceptable for dinner in a restaurant, and one of them no longer fit in a way that was flattering. Unless by flattering, she wanted to look like a porn star, she thought ruefully, of the way the dress hung low on her breasts, which were at least a cup size bigger than usual, and hugged her gently rounded belly and hips.
The other option was a simple cotton maxi dress, made special by the ruching around the sleeves and at the neckline, that gave it a sort of boho chic look. It had tiny blue and purple flowers set against a lilac background, and when teamed with a pair of strappy sandals and with a light wave styled into her hair, she thought it was both pretty and flattering.
Just after six, she walked downstairs, eyes scanning the hallway for Dante. She found him in a room with a large pool table in its centre, his body bent forward, eyes trained on the balls and cue as he took his shot. She stood inside the door, watching with curiosity as he struck one ball and set off an easy, almost automated chain reaction, the balls scattering with an appearance of organised chaos that resulted in not one but three being pocketed.
“You’re good,” she murmured appreciatively.
His expression showed that he hadn’t expected her to be there, but his eyes devoured her anyway, going from her long, loose hair to her minimally made up face, to the dress that showed her changing body without wrapping too tightly around it. And she held her breath, waiting for him to say something, to compliment her but also to reassure her, because she didn’t know where they were going or if her outfit was appropriate. He straightened, replaced the pool cue in the rack at the wall and turned to her. “Shall we go?”
Georgia’s heart sank. So much for turning over a new leaf. He was just as cold and formal as he’d been earlier. But at least they were going to share a meal together. At least there was hope, of a sort.
At the front door, he turned to her again. “Do you have a coat?”
“Oh, um. A denim jacket. Do you think I’ll need it?”
“The nights can get cool, yes.”
“Okay. I’ll just go?—,”
