“How far along are you?”
“Ten weeks,” she replied, and she could almost see him doing the math to determine the time of conception, the same as she had, when she’d figured out she’d gotten pregnant in Málaga.
He’d have to take her back now. She tossed her hair, fluffing it with her fingers. Wearing her hair down had been a calculated decision because she knew he liked it this way.
The cadence of her heart sped up as she waited, anticipated he would tell her they had to stay married. That he wanted a prominent role in his child’s life and they would live together as husband and wife—as a family—to make sure that happened. Their child would be the bridge to bring them back together, the way they were before he found her prescription. He’d had feelings for her. She’d seen it in his face and in his actions.
“Joint custody is the only arrangement I’ll accept.” Cyrus’s voice sounded detached, hollow. “That’s nonnegotiable. I’ll have my lawyer draw up new papers to include child support.”
What? Her heart juddered and then stopped before starting again at an even faster, panicked pace. That wasn’t the response she’d expected.
“I’m carrying your baby.”
“Which you didn’t want in the first place,” he said, his voice devoid of emotion and his body still ramrod straight. “I understand, and I want to make this as easy for you as possible, which includes giving you the house, as you requested, and of course enough to maintain it.” He continued to stare out of the window into the night.
Why wouldn’t he look at her? They should be celebrating right now. Why didn’t he grab her and hug her and tell her of his excitement? That all was forgiven and they could start over?
Daniella licked her dry lips, true panic setting in. He was supposed to come back home. “I don’t understand. You love that house,” she said, hoping she’d effectively hidden the dismay in her voice. Her last chance to hold onto him was slipping away. Why was he giving her all of these things?
He turned away from the window and studied her for long seconds before responding. “It’s just a house. It’s not that important. You’ll need it more than I do with the baby coming. This place serves my needs.”
For the first time she noticed he wasn’t wearing his ring. He’d worn that ring for the three years of their separation. Now it was gone, and the shock of its absence splintered her heart into fragments. He’d officially given up on their marriage.
He didn’t even want the house—his beloved house. He would give her anything she wanted to get rid of her.
She drifted back into the conversation, catching the last bit of his current sentence. “…get Shaun to start research on someone to help with the baby.”
Eyes on her feet, Daniella nodded numbly, afraid if she tried to speak she’d fall to her knees, grab him about the ankles, and beg him to forgive her.
“So everything is settled?” he asked.
She barely managed to nod again—paralyzed, finding it hard to move.
“Thank you for letting me know. I appreciate you coming to tell me in person.” So impersonal, as if he was thanking one of his employees.
Tears burned the back of her throat, but she managed to keep her composure. She could barely see her feet through the cloud of tears.
She couldn’t fall apart. Not here. Not now. Not in front of him.
Where was her purse? Daniella scanned the room.
Forget it. She’d leave it. She had to get out. Everything around her was distorted because of the moisture in her eyes. She blinked rapidly and rushed toward the door. A tear crept from the corner of her eye, and she brushed it away.
“Dani?”