He drew another breath, forced it out again. ‘Please tell me what happened.’
She was silent. She hadn’t ever wanted to talk about it—not with him, or anyone. What was the point? It had happened. It was over. There was nothing he could do. Or that anyone could do.
But her heart sank, for she knew there was no getting out of it—not with him so close like this, so intensely scrutinising her. He was watching her every blink, her every breath, monitoring her tiny quivering. At the very least she had to tell him the basics.
‘I was in Bath—that’s where I’d gone after I left you. Everything was OK for a few weeks. I was getting my head around it. Then…’ She shrugged, not wanting to go into any more detail.
‘Had you been sick? Did you fall?’
‘Nothing like that. It just happened. The doctor said I’d never know why. I didn’t have any of the usual risk factors. It was just one of those things.’
‘But you were going to keep it.’
‘Yes.’
His eyes bored into her. ‘Would you ever have told me I had a child? Would you ever have found that courage, Ana?’
‘Eventually,’ she muttered. When she had herself sorted.
‘You never should have run away.’ He swore. ‘Where does it get you, Ana? How can you think you can get away with avoiding everything? Especially something as big as this?’ He stood silent for a long time. All of a sudden his body bunched again and he lanced her with an even more intent look. ‘Even now you’re not telling me the whole story, are you?’
She couldn’t hold his gaze, looked to the floor, wanting to disappear into it.
‘The scar. My God. This is how you got that scar.’ His hands cupped her face, tilting it up to his with surprising gentleness. ‘Isn’t it?’
Why hold any of it back now? He knew enough, was guessing the rest.
‘I had a lot of pain. I fainted. I don’t know what happened. I was in and out of it. I remember parts of the ambulance ride. Telling them…’ She’d wanted them to save her baby. ‘It was an ectopic pregnancy. I went straight into Theatre. When I woke up it was all over.’ They’d had to remove her fallopian tube and her ovary had been damaged. She’d stayed in hospital for a few days. And gone back to her empty flat to recuperate—to nothing.
She could feel the tension in his fingers.
‘That can be life-threatening.’
Her heart contracted. ‘My baby died.’
‘You could have too.’
Yes. It had been that serious. And there had been a moment—the darkest of moments—when she’d wished she had. She had lost everything. And had no one and no place she felt she could turn to.
There was a long silence. He didn’t let go of her. She could feel his breathing, deep and unnaturally regular as if he was concentrating hard to control it. She waited for the explosion. She could feel his anger like a living thing radiating from him. But it wasn’t harsh words and a raised voice that assaulted her senses.
‘It must have been awful for you.’
It was a whisper that arrowed straight under her armour. Sympathy wasn’t what she’d been expecting.
‘You must have felt so alone.’ His finger stroked down her cheek. ‘You didn’t tell anyone, did you?’
She released a shaky breath. ‘There wasn’t anyone…around.’
There was a moment again, where she felt the wave of effort it took him to stay silent and she could read the hurt in his eyes. She appreciated it. She appreciated it so much that her control began to slip.
‘I’m sorry you were alone,’ he said quietly. ‘I wish you had told me but I kind of understand why you didn’t. I just wish I could have done something.’
‘There was nothing anyone could do.’ Her voice cracked. ‘It doesn’t matter.’
‘It does.’ His arms slid around her, pulled her away from the wall and cradled her in a loose embrace. ‘It does matter.’
And now, months later—surely too late—he comforted her. And she needed it. How she needed it.
‘It matters so much,’ he muttered into her hair.
It had. It still did. And she didn’t know when the pain would diminish. She had tried to put it from her mind, tried to focus on getting her life back on track and firing up her career. And it had worked—until she’d seen him again. In that instant feeling had started to flow again. Starting with desire at its most basic, but the sexual spark had warmed up all of her emotions. And now that the gates had been unlocked the flood was impossible to stop. Her heart opened and the hurt poured out. His arms tightened, supporting her as she crumpled.