Bargain in Bronze

The pressure in her heart eased a little. “Okay.”

They walked through the Docklands and hopped on a bus to take them farther up the river. Then they stood on the majestic Tower Bridge, looking across to the Tower of London and all the signs of the festivities.

“So aside from men’s gymnastics and men’s diving, what other Olympic events do you like to watch?” he asked.

She leaned over the railing to get a better view of a tourist boat heading downstream. “Well, I do like the swimming as well.”

She heard his muffled laugh.

“And of course the rowing,” she added. “That’s very good.”

“Of course,” he said dryly.

“Some of the football isn’t bad.”

“What’s wrong, they’re wearing too much clothing?”

“The shirts are a little loose.” She played up and then laughed. “Well, there’s nothing wrong with appreciating beauty, right?” She so appreciated his.

“Nothing at all.” His answer was as laden with meaning as hers.

“Not to mention skill and talent.”

“And passion. They all have passion for what they do.”

“That’s true,” she mused, deliberately licking her lips.

Flirting was such fun with him. She tried to resist, but her smile was impossible to contain. Time to go home to his place, right?

He quickly leaned across and kissed her. “Let’s go get dinner.”

Perhaps he’d been thinking ahead, because he directed the taxi driver—not asking for her thoughts. She didn’t mind. There was no doubt he had a better idea of the restaurant scene than her.

The one he chose was Spanish.

“I figured you should try some dishes now so you’ll know what to order when you’re there.” He smiled broadly as they sat at the table.

“Good thinking,” she answered brightly, wishing the impossible wish that he’d go to Spain with her.

The food was divine, the company even better. How silly that his giving her travel tips smote her heart. How silly to be falling so quickly for someone so unattainable. Someone who still didn’t open up in conversation—who wanted to avoid any kind of deep entanglement.

She was a fool.

Two days later, early in the morning, Nina refused to open her eyelids. It was cruel how time had sprinted like an Olympian. She’d finished at work yesterday—had laughed one last time with Stella, had promised to keep in touch. Her flight was tonight. They’d not discussed it. They’d discussed everything else that was light and silly and fun, but they’d not discussed this—the good-bye.

She was dreading the moment she’d walk out his door and never see him again. That moment was mere seconds away. He hated emotional scenes, that was obvious to her now. He simply froze them out. She’d not had the chance to find out why. But she didn’t want to experience his statue vibe again. So she moved quietly, hoping he’d sleep through her sneaky exit. He should, given they’d had sex as many times through the night as they’d had that first half-crazed evening.

Only, in the earliest hours of this morning, those last two times had been silent. There’d been no playful words or tease or laughter. Only slow, sweeping movements that had scored deep marks on her heart. She’d soundlessly made love to him. She’d wanted to love him—he made it so easy.

And so hard.

But now, as she carefully slipped out of the sheets, he lunged across the bed and wrapped firm fingers round her wrist. She turned to look at him, her heart hopelessly thudding, aching to hear words she knew he’d never say.

“Have lunch with me today. In the park by the hospital.” His voice was low and it was more of a command than a polite request.

Nina licked her dry lips—her heart somersaulting at the reprieve. A little more time. And a public place to say good-bye? Maybe that would be good. She wouldn’t do tears in public. She wouldn’t do anything overly emotional. And of course, neither would he. But she’d get to see him one last time, and frankly, she couldn’t resist.

Five hours later, they were on the grass in the sun—the hottest day of the summer so far. The capital was going crazy with the influx of tourists and media and athletes. The excitement was palpable. But Nina felt like she was shut off—behind some glass bubble all her own. And in that bubble, the AC had been turned down low. She was freezing.

Eduardo clearly wasn’t suffering from the same problem. With an hour off from the hospital, he’d pulled his shirt off and lain back, his expression hidden by the large lenses of his sunglasses. She only had a few more minutes and she shamelessly watched him.

“You’re getting a tan before my eyes,” she groaned. “So unfair.”

“I’m olive-skinned.” He chuckled—his abs tightening as he did.

A flare of heat shot through Nina’s chill. “But you’re not actually that tanned. You’ve been stuck in a lab too long.”

“It’s been winter.”

And he hadn’t had a holiday. There was a big part of her wishing he’d choose to take a holiday right now. With her. She sighed as she looked down at him. He had it all. Brains, beauty, body—humor. When he warmed up? So much fun.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I’m jealous of you.”

He laughed. Really hard.

“Truly I am,” she said. “You’re brilliant, you’re funny, you’re kind, and you get a tan in two minutes.” It was grossly unfair. And it was over.

Lightly waving her hand just above the grass so only the very tips tickled her palm, she couldn’t resist asking—probing where she knew there’d be no joy. Probably no real answer. But it was her last chance ever to ask and if she didn’t, she’d always wonder. And it wasn’t really a question, more a sad fact. “You don’t want a family.”

“I’m too involved with my work,” he said. “It’s not fair to have a relationship when I work the hours I do.”

“You really love it.”

“I do. Fascinating things happen in laboratories. Miraculous things.” He turned his head toward her, his expression suddenly guarded. He looked at her for a long moment. And then he seemed to make some decision. He leaned forward. “Like me. I’m a petri dish baby, made in a laboratory.”

“Wow.” She snatched a breath. “You’re an IVF baby?”

“Mmm.” He sat right up and pulled several blades of grass out, rubbing them between his fingers. “My parents tried and tried and tried and they got me. Then they kept trying. I wasn’t enough for them. Then I didn’t do what they wanted me to. I am the ultimate disappointment and it was all the worse, given what they’d gone through to get me.” He grabbed his shirt and pulled it on, covering that newly bronzed body. “Do you know what they said? That I wasn’t the son I should have been because I hadn’t been born from the act of love—so I didn’t have a loving heart.”

Nina’s stomach clenched. “But that’s crazy,” she cried, horrified. “Being an IVF baby doesn’t make you bionic. You’re not any less—” she couldn’t get the words out for her rage. “That’s the most—”

“I know it’s rubbish,” he interrupted with an odd laugh. “The real point is that I didn’t have the normal kind of love that other people get from their parents.” He suddenly sobered, turning his face away from her. “I wasn’t nurtured the same as most kids are. That’s why I can’t do family myself.”

Nina’s heart tore at his self-denial. He’d been wronged, but he was so wrong saying that. “What about Caspar and his family? You gave them so much. You care, Eduardo. You’re compassionate. More than most people.”

He shook his head. “That was a patient. Not a personal relationship.”

“It was a personal relationship,” she argued. “You visited them every day for months—if that’s not a personal relationship, then what is?”

“No,” he said. “It was professional. I kept my distance. I can’t do in

timacy.”

He’d kept his distance? Of course he hadn’t—he’d been shaking that day he’d come to her—hiding his tears in her shirt, his whole body trembling in her arms. Did he think she’d not felt that? Seen that? Known that?

“I tried once,” he said softly. “But my hours killed it. She said I cared more for my test tubes than for her. Thing is,” he added, looking rueful, “I probably did.”

“There’s nothing wrong with being serious and dedicated and working hard,” she said, lifting her chin. “Many people sacrifice a lot of things for their work, but they still have relationships.”

He shook his head. “I can’t meet the needs of a partner. I can’t keep someone happy. And I don’t want children—I don’t want to do to them what my parents did to me.”

“You know what not to do.”

He shook his head. “I’d be an absentee father. That’s not fair.”

Nina swallowed—she was so angry with him for shutting himself off from what could be a rich part of life. He was taking the easy way out.

He watched her closely, reading her expression. Now he frowned. “In the end, my girlfriend didn’t believe I was working. She was jealous, suspicious. She thought there was someone else. It led to tantrums.”

And he hated fights and recriminations, didn’t he? If he’d spent most of his life battling his parents—feeling their emotional manipulation—then she didn’t blame him.

“My work is a huge part of my life,” he said. “It’s most of my life.”

“But you also have fun,” she argued. “You know how to have fun.” Her kind of fun—geeky Shakespeare-quoting fun and endless frolics in bed and interest in online newspapers and science magazines and museums.

“For a limited time.” He looked apologetic—but it wasn’t for himself. That apology was for her.

Nina’s heart sliced open as she suddenly recognized what this was—an excuse. He was trying to let her down gently—blaming himself, not her. Telling her that he didn’t do long term. And he believed it too.