Page 13 of Pregnancy Clause in Their Paper Marriage
‘Lana?’ he prompted.
The gentleness in his voice compelled her to blurt, ‘What makes you believe I’d be a good mother?’ The compassion that immediately suffused and softened his face made everything in her inwardly squirm. Oh, she hated that look, even as part of her craved it, craved his understanding. And yet she’d never wanted pity, never ever. She wanted to be strong. Toseemstrong, even when she wasn’t.
‘I just mean,’ she hastened to add, ‘I’m assuming you think I would be a good mother, or at least an adequate one, since you seem willing to have a child with me.’
‘I do think that,’ he replied quietly, without any of his usual wryness.
She forced herself to look up at him, even though it hurt a little, because his expression was still soft with sympathy. ‘But why do you? I’m asking because I don’t think you could actually know, and, frankly, I haven’t exactly given off many maternal vibes, have I?’ From the beginning of their relationship, she’d made it very clear that she didn’t want children, had no interest in them, even. He’d never even seen her hold a baby, because she never had. Why on earth would he think she was mommy material?Why would she?
Christos was regarding her steadily, his compassionate look now replaced by a quiet thoughtfulness. Lana made herself hold his gaze, bracing herself for whatever came next.
Actually, Lana, you’re right. Now that you’ve pointed it out, I realise you’d make a pretty crap mother, so maybe we need to rethink this whole idea.
Then, to her surprise, he took her hand in his, his long, lean fingers sliding across hers, sending sparks of awareness shooting all the way up her arm, through her whole body as she tried not to reveal her instant physical reaction. The last thing she wanted right now was to respond to him in that way, and yet the feel of his hand was both comforting and exciting at the same time.
‘I think the real question is,’ he asked in a low thrum of a voice that vibrated all the way through her, ‘why doyouthink you wouldn’t make a good mother?’
Instinctively, without thought, she tried to pull her hand from his, but he tightened his fingers on hers, wrapping around them more securely and holding her in place. The warmth of his palm seeped into her skin, and something even more alarming than those fizzy sparks flooded through her—not just desire, but a deeper emotion, an ache of both longing and acceptance that threatened to undo her completely...all simply from him holding her hand.
This man had the power to affect her...more than she wanted him to. More than he even realised.
She pushed the realisation away, focused on the practicalities. ‘I’ll be honest,’ she told him, glancing down at their twined hands, trying not to feel the warmth of his palm, let it affect her. ‘I’m not convinced I will be one, although I’ll certainly try my best.’
‘I didn’t ask that,’ Christos replied after a moment. His thumb was now gently stroking her palm, sending shivery bolts of sensation through her, making her feel both sleepy and wide awake at the same time, a yearning unfurling from her centre, radiating outwards, taking her over. Did he realise he was doing it? He must. But why now, when he’d barely touched her in three years?
Thiswas why she’d suggested IVF, Lana thought a little wildly. Because already things had become very, very complicated. Forher. Not, it seemed, for Christos, and that scared her all the more.
‘I didn’t ask if,’ he told her, ‘I askedwhy.’
‘I told you why,’ Lana replied unsteadily. His thumb was still doing its hypnotising work and she was finding it hard to concentrate. ‘Because I haven’t ever been maternal. I haven’t evenwantedto be maternal.’
‘Why?’
Not another why, for heaven’s sake! With what felt like Herculean effort, she managed to pull her hand away from his, but only, she suspected, because he’d let her. She cradled it in her lap, as if it had been injured, hoping he didn’t see. ‘I told you I grew up with a single mom,’ she stated, doing her best to keep her voice brisk. ‘Well,shewasn’t very maternal.’ To say the least. ‘So, I suppose I never thought I would be.’ Had chosen not to be, because she’d seen, she’d felt, how the lack of a mother’s love could affect a child. Devastate them emotionally, so they never fully recovered. And she hadn’t wanted to take that responsibility, thatrisk, herself with another human being.
Except now, all because of her diagnosis, she was willing to—was she being selfish? What on earth made her think she could actually do it? That she wouldn’t mess up her baby’s life the way her mom had messed up hers?
Not that she even blamed her mother any more. When her mother had fallen seriously ill five years ago, Lana had forced herself to forgive, to accept, before she had died. It had been important to her to have that reconciliation, and she’d come to realise that her mom had had a very raw deal in life—a husband walking out when she’d had a small baby, a life of hard grind, love affairs with men who had used her and thrown her away. No, Lana no longer blamed her mother for the way she now found herself; she simply accepted it, acknowledged her own weaknesses, tried to work with them.
Maybe this was a bad idea, after all.
‘Lana.’ Christos’s voice was a mixture of stern and gentle. ‘Stop freaking out.’
She blinked him back into focus, startled. ‘I’m not freaking out.’
‘Yes, you are. You’re practically hyperventilating.’
To her embarrassment, she realised she was. She’d started breathing faster without even being aware she was doing it. That was what thinking about these kinds of things did to her. She forced herself to let out a long, slow breath and relax in her seat.
‘Okay. There.’ She managed a smile as Christos cocked his head.
‘Do you think you wouldn’t love our baby?’ he asked, and she sat bolt upright, her breath coming out in something close to a gasp. So much for relaxation.
‘Of course I would!’
He leaned back, smiling a little smugly. ‘I think so, too. So, so much for not being maternal, eh?’
She shook her head, horrified to find herself near tears. ‘It’s not that simple, Christos. It’s not just about feelings.’