* * *
By the time Trinity came down for breakfast with the boys the following morning, feeling hollow and tired, she knew that Cruz was no longer in the castillo. And sure enough Julia appeared with a note for her.
I have to go to Madrid for a couple of days and then New York. I’ll return in time for the doctor’s appointment. Cruz.
It couldn’t be more obvious that he didn’t want to have anything to do with her until they knew if she was pregnant and then he would deal with it.
Even Mrs Jordan seemed to sense that something was going on, because she kept shooting Trinity concerned looks. She did her best to project as happy a façade as possible, and suggested that Mrs Jordan take the opportunity to go to Scotland for a few days to see her son, telling her that she’d just need her back for when she would be going to Madrid.
She also, if she was honest, wanted time alone with the boys to lick her wounds.
She filled their days with activities, wearing herself and the boys out so comprehensively that she could sleep. But that didn’t stop the dreams, which now featured her running through the castillo, going into every room, endlessly searching for Cruz.
And each night before she went to sleep she forced herself to remember what he’d said in London, when she’d asked him about marrying for love: ‘I have no time for such emotions or weaknesses...’
Two weeks later...
Trinity was standing on Harley Street, having just come out of the doctor’s office, in the bright spring sunshine. Cruz had brought her to London instead of Madrid at the last minute, because there had been something urgent he had to attend to at the UK bank.
She felt raw now, being back here. Where it had all started. And she felt even more raw after her appointment with the doctor...
A sleek car pulled up just then, and stopped. Trinity saw a tall figure uncoil from the driver’s seat. Cruz. He’d timed his meeting so that he could meet her after the doctor’s appointment.
He held the passenger door open for her to get in, saying nothing as she did so, just looking at her carefully. When he was behind the wheel he looked at her again.
Feeling too brittle at that moment, Trinity said, ‘I’ll tell you when we get to the house.’
They were staying overnight.
A muscle pulsed in Cruz’s jaw, but he said nothing and just drove off. Trinity felt a little numb as she watched the streets go by outside, teeming with people engrossed in their daily lives.
When they got to the Holland Park house her sense of déjà-vu was overwhelming. The door closed behind them, echoing in the cavernous hall. Trinity’s heart was thumping and she could feel clammy sweat breaking out on her skin. She sensed Cruz behind her, watching her, waiting, and slowly turned around.
She knew she had to say the words. She opened her mouth and prayed to sound cool and in control. Not as if she was breaking apart inside. She looked at him.
‘I’m not pregnant, Cruz.’
He said nothing for a long moment. Trinity was expecting to see relaxation in the tense lines of his body. Eventually he said, ‘We should talk, then.’
She recoiled at the thought of doing it right now. ‘Can we do it later, please? I’m quite tired.’
Cruz nodded once. ‘Of course. Whenever you’re ready. I’ll be in my study.’
‘Okay,’ Trinity said faintly, and turned to go up the stairs to the bedrooms. Calling herself a coward as she did so. She was just staying the execution. That was all.
CHAPTER TEN
AFTERNOON PASSED INTO dusk and evening outside Cruz’s study, but he was oblivious. Two words echoed in his head: not pregnant...not pregnant. He’d felt an unaccountably shocking sense of loss. When he had no right.
Trinity would get pregnant one day, and create the family she’d always wanted. And she deserved that. There was no reason for him not to let her go now. If anything, he had to. It was time for him to make reparation.
It had come far too belatedly—the realisation that Rio’s deep hatred of Cruz hadn’t irreparably damaged his ability to care. That his mother’s even deeper cynicism hadn’t decimated the tiny seed of hope he’d believed to have been crushed long ago—hope for a different kind of life, one of emotional fulfilment and happiness. One not bound by duty and destiny and a desire to protect himself from emotional vulnerability at all costs.
He’d never wanted more because he’d never really known what that was. Until he’d seen Trinity interact so lovingly and selflessly with his nephews and had found himself sitting up in their room all night, watching them sleep and vowing to slay dragons if he had to, to keep them safe.
The thought of family had always been anathema to him, but now—
He heard a sound and looked up to see his door open. Trinity. She’d changed and was wearing soft faded jeans and a long cardigan, which she’d pulled around herself. Her hair was down and a little mussed, and her face was bare of make-up. Her feet were bare too.