“Sometimes residential care is the answer. It’s not a statement about parenting; it’s a question of need. Imagine if we’d had other children to consider.”
“I was grateful we didn’t.”
Felix threw himself back against the sofa. “You should have come to me—you should have told me what was going on. And I should have helped out more. I failed you and Harry in those years.”
“No. You didn’t. We made an agreement, remember? You did your job, I did mine.”
And it was a bad agreement. He never should have accepted her terms. “Do you know when I fell in love with you—really fell in love?” He rolled his head toward her. “When I watched you become a mother. Nursing Harry, rocking him to sleep, singing to him. No one with my upbringing would ever want children, but you showed me something I’d never seen before—unconditional parental love.” He reached for her hand and entwined their fingers together. “Ella, please never doubt what an incredible mother you are.”
“There’s more.” Ella stared straight ahead. “I couldn’t figure out how to tell you. And then I was scared you would overreact, and then I thought maybe it didn’t matter, but it does. The heart attack has taught me that everything matters. And then Harry, talking about comfort zones. You need to know . . .”
“Know what, Ella?”
She drew in a deep breath and nodded at the painting above the fireplace, the vile picture of Ella distorted into The Scream. “That sums up how I felt after Mom died. And then I met you and the screaming stopped. When my thirtieth birthday came around, I knew what I wanted.” Ella withdrew her hand and slowly turned toward him. “I wanted a child; I needed a father.”
“Wait, wait.” Felix shot up. “Are you telling me that the pregnancy wasn’t an accident? You set me up?” To hell with staying calm.
“This is why I never told you. I wasn’t trying to set you up. I was in love, I thought it was hopeless. You’d told me you never wanted a family, but I wanted a child desperately—and I was prepared to raise him alone. I never expected you to turn up in America with your grandmother’s engagement ring. Once you were here, in the States, I couldn’t risk losing you. After that, it all happened so fast—the wedding, Harry’s birth, the craziness of life with a newborn. And then somehow it seemed irrelevant. We were a family. Did it matter how we became one?”
“But he’s seventeen.” Felix dragged his hands through his hair. “Why didn’t you tell me after he turned five or twelve? We even talked about this while you were in hospital. I gave you the perfect lead-in.” Yes, he was angry. He was flat-out furious. How could she have done this? He collapsed back on the sofa. “Good God, Ella, there must have been a thousand opportunities to tell me in seventeen years.”
“But I chose you to be the father of my child,” she said, and picked at her thumbnail. Even her beautifully shaped nails were split and broken these days. “Isn’t that all that matters? I chose you, the person who caught me when I was falling. I chose you, Felix.”
“You chose me,” Felix repeated.
She chose me. All these years he’d been wrong! She hadn’t married him because it was the best decision; she’d married him because she wanted him. Him. She had chosen him. He laughed and locked his arms around her like a safety harness.
“You’re not mad?”
“Don’t you see?” He was still laughing. “The pregnancy was the excuse I needed to get on a plane and follow you. I had no angst over my decision. I had nothing but relief, relief that we could be together, that I didn’t have to wait for you to reject me. I chose you, too, Ella Bella. Don’t you see? We chose each other.”