Page 28 of Back to Claim His Italian Heir

‘You’re finally up,’ she said from her seat at the breakfast bar. She’d been flicking through one of the designer magazines the hotel provided but she pushed it aside now, smiling tentatively as he came into the room. For a second, a memory of sleepy warmth, her body snugly next to his, had lingered in his mind like the vestiges of a dream. Had she slept in the bed with him, cuddled up together? She might have, but he couldn’t really remember; the medication had knocked him out.

Right now what he could remember, all too clearly, was how she’d seen him—weak, sick,beingsick, stumbling to bed. Hardly his best self, and yet somehow she was still smiling as she looked at him, and things between them felt easier. Less tense, even though the OB’s warning words still weighed heavily in his gut.

‘I’m sorry I slept so long,’ he said as he went to the kitchen area to pour himself some coffee. Emma twisted around in her seat to track him with her gaze.

‘I’m glad you did,’ she said. ‘You needed it, clearly.’

‘You need your sleep, too.’ He turned to face her, leaning against the counter as he cradled his coffee cup. She looked fresh-faced and artless this morning, her hair piled on top of her head in a messy bun, wearing a long, loose sundress with a button-down shirt open over it, yet he still saw how pale she seemed, and how thin, her wrists poking out from the cuffs of her shirt. ‘The OB called me just now,’ he told her.

‘She did?’ Emma’s sunny, open expression immediately turned guarded, alert, in a way that made him feel both guilty and sad. ‘Why did she call you, and not me?’

‘Because she wanted to yell at me, I think.’ He smiled wryly and her expression lightened, just a little, which made him glad. ‘She’s emailing you the results of all the tests, as she said she would yesterday.’

‘There’s only one test that really matters though, isn’t there?’ She didn’t speak with any rancour or bitterness, but Nico felt it all the same. No matter how he’d explained how demanding the paternity test really had been about him, he knew it had hurt her, just as he knew he was sorry for that. Sorrier than he’d expected to be, considering what he’d just learned.

‘That test was conclusive,’ he replied quietly. ‘I am the baby’s father, as you told me, and as I really knew all along.’ He might have jumped to conclusions because it had felt easier, or at least stronger, to be angry rather than hurt, but the reality was, he knew, that he’d never truly doubted Emma. ‘I’m sorry for questioning you,’ he told her.

She let out one of her irrepressible laughs, her mouth twitching. ‘An apology! I’m so honoured.’

He frowned, because she made it sound as if he never said sorry, and he did, surely... ‘I apologise when I’m in the wrong,’ he told her, although it came out just a little bit like a question.

‘Which obviously isn’t very often, then,’ Emma returned tartly, even though she was still smiling. ‘I think that’s the first one I’ve heard.’

‘Is it?’ He blinked at her, surprised, and she laughed again.

‘Perhaps this is the time for a bit of self-awareness, then,’ she teased. ‘You do have the habit of being a bit...autocratic. Dare I say it...arrogant?’ She bit her lip, widening her eyes, and while he knew she was just teasing—sort of—there was more than a sting of truth in her words.

He really had been riding a wave of self-righteous fury, Nico acknowledged, ever since he’d walked into her wedding—or maybe, he realised with a jolt, even before that. When he’d taken her away from that restaurant, swept her up into his own privileged world, he’d felt like her rescuer. He’d liked showering her with attention and gifts, having her look up to him, dependent on him, even a little bit in awe. He certainly hadn’t treated her like an equal partner in their short-lived marriage—as Emma had pointed out, he hadn’t introduced her to anyone, hadn’t tried to really include her in his life. Hadn’t even thought of it.

The knowledge was uncomfortable, shaming. Maybe it was a result of a childhood of never feeling as if he could do or be enough to his father, but he’d definitely enjoyed being Emma’s everything, for a little while. Making himself the centre of her world, because he’d never been that before. But was that how any relationship, never mind a marriage, was really supposed to be?

‘Nico?’ she prompted. ‘You are frowning pretty ferociously. You know I was kidding, right? Well.’ Her smile widened. ‘Sort of, anyway.’

‘Right.’ He was frowning, Nico knew, because having these realisations about himself really wasn’t comfortable, even if it was necessary. ‘Well, then, I’m sorry I haven’t been willing to admit when I’m wrong,’ he told her. ‘There—that’s two sorrys in the space of a few minutes, so consider yourself doubly honoured.’

She grinned at him, eyes dancing. ‘Must be a record.’

‘Must be.’ He took a sip of his coffee, trying to order his thoughts for the conversation he knew they needed to have. He’d marched in here, about to tell Emma his plans—that he was taking her away, taking care of her as she so clearly needed, and all without her having so much as a say in it. Suddenly that didn’t seem like such a good idea.

‘The OB mentioned a few other things,’ he told her at last, choosing his words with care. ‘She’ll tell the same to you, but she told me because she felt I should do something about it.’

‘I did tell her she could share my medical records with you,’ Emma replied with a defiant shrug, although her expression had turned wary. ‘I had nothing to hide.’

‘I know.’ Nothing to hide, but there were still things she hadn’t told him. Hadn’t wanted to tell him, perhaps, because like him she didn’t like sharing what seemed to be weaknesses. Admitting vulnerability.

‘So, do something about what?’ Emma straightened in her chair, her gaze serious.

‘Your health.’ He came to sit next to her at the table, regarding her sombrely. ‘You’re worryingly underweight, apparently, as well as anaemic. And the OB believes you’ve been stressed, which isn’t good for the baby, obviously.’ And there were other things she’d told him too, things from her childhood that made him ache. Made him want to protect Emma with everything he had. Everything he was.

‘Oh. Wow.’ Emma folded her arms, hunching her shoulders. ‘Well, I knew I was a little bit underweight from when I went to the clinic a couple of weeks ago, because of the morning sickness, but that is getting better, now that I’m starting the second trimester.’ She sounded defensive, a little hurt, and that made him ache all the more.

‘The OB wasn’t blaming you, Emma, and I’m not, either.’ He realised that was where she was going with this, and it was not the takeaway he intended at all. ‘If anything, I’m blaming myself. I marched in here and dragged you around and didn’t think about your condition—’

‘You didn’t know about my condition at first, and, in any case, it’s only been a couple of days. I was underweight and I guess anaemic before you came on the scene, Nico, so you don’t need to blame yourself.’ She rallied, cocking her head as she gave him a teasing smile even though she still looked worried. ‘That’s the other side of arrogance—you think everything is your fault.’ She tapped his chest playfully. ‘The world does not revolve around you, you know.’

‘I know.’ But he’d wanted it to, he realised. Was that why he’d been so determined to be with Emma, to marry her? Because after his parents’ revelations, he’d wanted to be the centre of someone’s world, and he’d known from the start that she was alone and vulnerable. It hardly put him in an admirable light, but at least he was aware of it now. He could choose to be different; he could choose for their relationship to be different. Instead of being the centre of Emma’s world, she could be the centre of his. Emma and their child. Nothing else, he knew, was as important as they were.

‘The main thing now,’ he told her, ‘is to get you healthy again. Give you time to rest, relax, eat good food and grow our baby.’ And recover in ways he hadn’t realised she’d needed to.