Martinez's Pregnant Wife

‘I never thought…’ Her voice trailed off in a whisper. He’d done this for her?

‘I give you exactly that.’ He looked over at her as he turned off the engine stopped and an expectant silence filled the car, wrapping around them. ‘Christmas in a country cottage.’

‘But whose cottage is it?’ It was late on Christmas Eve and she wanted to know just whose Christmas they would be descending on.

‘Ours—for Christmas, that is.’

‘And you did all this?’ He’d remembered all she’d said when they were dating, how she’d never had a Christmas that had been special, how she’d wanted the tree, the trimmings, the lights and champagne in front of an open fire. Didn’t that mean something? That he cared?

‘You doubt that I could be a family man, one who cares, and this is my way of showing you otherwise.’ A determined firmness entered his voice but she refused to spoil the moment by thinking too hard about what he’d just said. She didn’t want to acknowledge the true implications of this. She just wanted to enjoy this special moment, imagine this was how they really were.

‘I can’t believe it,’ she said as she opened the car door and got out, smiling at the traditional wreath hanging on the green-painted door. It was her dream Christmas and the man who claimed not to be able to love her had brought her here.

The night air was cold and crisp. Exactly what she’d always imagined in her idea of a perfect Christmas. The only glitch was that she’d imagined spending it with the man she loved, one she’d foolishly thought had loved her too. If she put that notion to one side, she could make a memory to hold onto, one to cherish when the clock struck midnight on New Year’s Eve and all this pretence of affection, of wanting to be a father, came crashing down.

‘I hope you like it because we are here until we return to London for Angelina’s birthday party and then there will, of course, be the New Year’s Eve party.’ His breath hung in the air, clouding around her, and she smiled up at him. Surely it meant something? He wouldn’t have gone to all this trouble otherwise. The pain and anger which had built up since they’d gone their separate ways thawed even as the night air chilled.

‘I won’t know until I see it,’ she teased him, anxious now to see what his idea of the perfect Christmas cottage was like inside and trying hard to stifle the hope that he really did want her and the baby in his life. To allow that hope to grow would be foolish.

He smiled at her. Warmth filled his eyes that she hadn’t seen for a long time and her heart constricted with the effort of not letting her love show. She wanted to reach up and kiss his lips, to snuggle against him and be held in his arms.

‘Very well.’ He took out a key from his pocket and opened the door, the old key turning in the lock, sounding loud in the dark stillness of the winter night.

She pushed open the door and the heat from inside the cottage rushed at her. The scent of Christmas filled the air as he followed her in, but having him standing so close behind her made her feel weak as her legs trembled. She tried to ignore it, looking around the festive feast of decorations in the room, of which a real tree was the centrepiece.

It stood beside the fire, which glowed with orange warmth, creating the perfect scene. Beneath the tree were presents and its branches were heavy with coloured baubles and lights. How had he managed to arrange all this? The fact that he had even thought of it infused her with hope. Maybe he wasn’t so immune to her or the idea of fatherhood. Maybe there was a future for them.

‘I love it,’ she whispered as she pulled her cashmere scarf off and walked into the room. ‘But how did you manage all this when we were in Madrid?’ With arms wide she gestured around her. The whole room looked as if the owners had just stepped outside for a moment.

‘I rented the cottage and specified exactly what I wanted, even down to the mistletoe.’ He moved closer to her and pulled her toward him and under the piece of mistletoe adorned with white berries. The darkening of his eyes left her in no doubt that Christmas decorations were the furthest thing from his mind right now and her resolve to keep her distance melted like ice in front of the fire.

‘Thank you.’ She moved toward him, wanting to make the most of the change in him. It must have been Raul and Lydia’s wedding that had been darkening his mood over recent days, not impending fatherhood as she’d thought. She’d been too sensitive—too emotional. ‘It’s beautiful.’

‘As are you.’ The deep tone of his voice and heavy accent left her in no doubt where this was going to lead. A sliver of doubt crept in, threatening to spoil the moment, but she pushed it aside. It was Christmas Eve and didn’t wishes made on Christmas Eve come true?