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“I’m so sorry,” she murmured.
“When he passed, my mother was convinced the business would be stolen from her. She didn’t realize what a punk I really was. That was probably my greatest con, hiding that from her,” he said with a smirk. “And you, of course.”
“Wh-what?” She was so dumbfounded by his revelations, by the fact he was sharing so much, she set a hand on the wall to keep herself from falling over.
“Will you put this on the table for me?” He held out his refilled glass.
“Yes.” She reflexively hurried forward to take it, but he didn’t let it go.
“You were angry with me for a lot of things,” he said gravely, staring through her sunglass lenses in a way that seemed to peer all the way into her soul. “You said that in three years, I hadn’t told you anything more about myself than what you knew the day we married. You weren’t wrong. I hate talking about my childhood.” He scowled with distaste. “I’ve always wanted you to see me as I am now, not the way I was then, but I want you to stay in this marriage. That means you need to know me enough to trust me.”
“Why is it so important I stay?” If he didn’t love her, if he was only “fond” of her, what did it matter what she thought of him or whether they shared a house or a bed?
Wait, was that what he wanted? Sex? She kind of did, too, but it had become really hard to engage in physical intimacy while knowing she was investing so much more of her heart than he was.
On the other hand, if he had lost his mother so tragically, then regarded himself as a replacement for a couple’s “real” child, she had to wonder if he knew how to attach himself to anyone. She hadn’t, not until she had been given love in its purest form. Even then, she had resisted allowing love into her life. She was resisting it again, too conscious of how vulnerable it made her.
“Let’s sit down,” he said, glancing toward the sofa. “There’s something else you need to know. I’m not sure how you’ll react.”
She nervously carried his drink to a coaster on the coffee table, suspecting what was coming as she settled into the opposite corner and tried to appear appropriately curious.
He winced as he sat. His casted leg stuck out at an angle against the table legs.
“We’re expecting a baby.”
It took everything in her to let her lips part in shock.
Seriously, why was she continuing this stupid charade? I know. That’s all she had to say. I know.
But she didn’t want to go back to where they’d been at the gala. She wanted this, where he confided in her even though it was difficult for him. Would he do that if he knew she remembered everything? No. He would expect her to be Alexandra and would return to being closed-off Rafael, leaving her wondering what was going on behind his remote expression.
“How?” she asked. “The hospital didn’t tell me—”
“We’re using a surrogate. Molly.”
She blew out a breath and covered her face with her hands, dislodging her sunglasses as she leaned her elbows onto her knees. She was mostly trying to hide the fact that this news wasn’t as big a shock to her as he thought it was, but she was worried about Molly and had to press back on her instinct to ask about her.
“We were having trouble conceiving,” he continued.
No, they weren’t. His sperm had no trouble seducing her eggs into becoming embryos. She was the one who couldn’t hang on to them.
“Molly is about sixteen weeks along by now? She heard about the crash on the news and has been reaching out, but—” he cursed “—she’s engaged to her boss.”
“What?” Astonishment had her lifting her face from her hands.
It was a huge mistake. She had leaned forward on the sofa at just the right angle for the sunlight to glance off the pool, sifting between the furniture legs in the dining room and straight into her eyes.
She clenched her eyes shut, but the damage was done. Stars were exploding behind her eyelids.
“I know,” Rafael was grumbling. “It’s completely inappropriate. She signed a binding NDA to keep the pregnancy strictly confidential. I don’t think she would tell him she’s carrying our baby, but maybe this explains why she hasn’t given her notice yet? The whole thing is suspicious. It’s made worse by the fact that Gio Casella is a business partner of mine. We were about to sign off on a partnership deal a few days ago, but he put that on hold because of our crash. Now I’m afraid to talk to her in case she tells him—”
“Rafael.” She weakly fluttered her hand in his direction, using the other to shield her closed eyes. A halo of pain was forming inside her skull, pressing outward. Dread and nausea combined in her middle.
He cursed and caught her hand. “Migraine?”
“Yes. I need to lie down.”
“Your glasses.” She heard one of his crutches tumble to the floor and winced at the noise. The cushion dipped beside her, then the sunglasses pressed into her hand. “I’ll text the nurse to take you to the bedroom. I’d take you myself, but—” He cursed his crutches. “She’s coming with a pain pill and ice,” he said a moment later.
