Raina was almost breathless with rage. Maybe she should have told him that she could never have another child. He’d understand then why she was so angry. But it was too late now, and it was buried too deep. Raina had hidden that pain from everyone.
‘And...?’
‘And you can hardly even look at her.’
Alistair strode to a seat opposite hers, flinging himself down in it. ‘Do you actually think that I don’t feel anything when I see Anya? That I don’t think about the child we lost?’
The vehemence in his voice was shocking. Almost as shocking as the way Raina felt. ‘But you never really wanted a child, Alistair. You talked about not being ready...’
‘I wasn’t ready. That doesn’t mean that I didn’t want our child, and that I didn’t grieve for it. But you were physically and mentally traumatised, you needed care.’
‘I needed to know how you felt. I didn’t want to go through it on my own.’ Raina jumped to her feet and started to pace. Alistair rose, catching her by the shoulders.
‘No, Raina. You don’t do that to me. Whatever you say, you have to say it to my face, or I won’t hear you properly.’
Alistair had never asked for any concession to be made for his deafness. And now he was demanding one. If he could make that step, then the least that Raina could do was to hear him.
‘How did you feel, Alistair?’
‘You want to know, all of a sudden? You were the one who left me, Raina.’
The barb hit home. She’d left her wedding and engagement rings on the kitchen table and just walked away. Two weeks later she’d filed for divorce.
‘I know. And I know that must have hurt, but you were spending so much time at work that there was no opportunity to talk.’ Raina tried to keep her voice steady.
His face darkened. ‘I felt guilty. That I wasn’t there for you when you lost the baby.’
She’d called him, leaving message after message, but Alistair had been at work and he’d switched his phone off. Hurt wouldn’t allow her to admit how much she’d needed him.
‘There was nothing you could have done.’
‘That was just the problem, wasn’t it?’ Alistair turned suddenly, as if he didn’t want to hear any more of this. ‘There was never anything that I could do.’
Maybe she hadn’t given him much opportunity to feel anything, Raina’s own grief had seemed to fill every part of the space around her. Maybe she had pushed him away, but that was only because she’d known that Alistair had already been doing what he always did when something was too difficult, and spending every waking hour at work.
He had to hear this. Raina reached for his arm, pulling him round to face her again. ‘I’m listening now.’
Alistair’s gaze searched her face. Cold and hard, as if he was protecting himself from something. ‘When you lost the baby I was heartbroken. Is that what you want to hear?’
She knew he was telling the truth. She could see his pain. As the nagging doubt about whether he’d ever wanted the child they’d lost dissolved, a weight seemed to lift from Raina’s heart.
‘It’s what I needed to hear...’ She could feel tears spilling down her cheeks. Raina had thought that the silence between them had destroyed everything, but this cathartic spark had somehow ignited life into a relationship she’d thought was long dead.
Alistair wound his arms around her shoulders suddenly, pulling her close. As she sobbed against his chest, she could feel his breath catch with emotion.
‘We can’t let this come between us. We’re both angry, but we have to put that aside for Anya’s sake...’ Finally he spoke.
Raina rubbed at her eyes with her hand. He wouldn’t hear her if she mumbled into his chest, but when she looked up at Alistair it was hard not to see the man she’d wanted to share her life with. The one she’d wanted to kiss...
No. There were good reasons why it was over and, however much they voiced their differences, neither of them would ever change.
‘We promised that we would. It’s harder than I thought, though.’
Alistair nodded. ‘I can’t pretend that being with Anya doesn’t remind me of the child we lost, any more than I can keep pretending that I’ll wake up tomorrow and be able to hear again. Those things are gone now.’ He let her go, stepping back.
‘It’s not easy. I asked a lot of you when I applied for the project, and you could be forgiven for taking your time.’
He shot her a reproachful look. ‘Don’t give up on me now. You need to stop trying to be so nice to me, and start telling me what you think. I can’t do this on my own.’