Finding Perfect (Fool's Gold #3)(77)

There was a difference between can’t and don’t want to, Pia thought. Although she was supposed to take it easy for the next few days, after that, there weren’t any restrictions. Which might be medically sound, but emotionally, the thought of taking stairs made her beyond nervous.

Denise glanced between them. “Pia, it might be a good idea. You’d be more relaxed if you didn’t have to worry about stairs. It’s only for a week or so, then you can move back.” She raised her eyebrows. “Although I’m not sure how long you’re going to want to climb those three flights as your pregnancy progresses.”

Raoul looked both pleading and smug. “See.”

It might be the practical solution, but Pia didn’t like it. Moving in with Raoul said something about their relationship. Or maybe it simply made things more real. Not that she’d been able to ignore the very large engagement ring on her left hand.

“I’ll think about it,” she promised. It was the best she could do.

Denise hugged her again. As she was bent over, she whispered, “He’s very handsome and doting. There are worse traits in a man.”

“I know. Thanks for coming by and talking to me.”

Denise kissed her forehead. “Anytime.” She straightened. “Take care of her. She’s precious to all of us.”

“I will,” Raoul told her, then walked her to the door.

They spoke for a few seconds. Pia couldn’t hear what they were saying, which was probably the point. She leaned back against the sofa and closed her eyes. Despite being exhausted, she couldn’t seem to fall asleep. Every time she tried, she flashed back to the sight of the blood on the chair and felt the same terror flooding her. Not exactly a sequence designed to get her to nod off.

Instead she thought about what Denise had told her. Denise’s observation that it was amazing that the babies had gotten this far was the most help. Maybe it was okay that she hadn’t totally absorbed the idea of being pregnant. Maybe all that would change with time.

She opened her eyes and saw Raoul close the door. He glanced back at her.

“Why don’t you try to rest,” he suggested.

She nodded because it was easier than admitting she couldn’t sleep. She closed her eyes and tried to think about nothing at all. That seemed safest.

But she found herself remembering his story about his first wife. How Caro had betrayed him. There was no excuse for what she’d done. Pia couldn’t imagine lying to the one person you were supposed to love more than anyone. Not like that. If she hadn’t wanted to have children, she should have told him and gone on the Pill or something.

But the most difficult part of what he’d told her had been the realization that he’d loved Caro. The truth had been in the way he’d spoken about her, in the emotion in his eyes. He’d met her, dated her, fallen in love with her and proposed. Just like it was supposed to be.

She wasn’t going to get that. She wasn’t going to have the kind of love Hawk and Nicole shared, or that Denise had had with her late husband. There might be respect and a growing affection, there might be a shared goal of raising the twins and perhaps having more children, but there wasn’t a heart-pounding, hair-raising, oh-my-God kind of falling in love.

The knowledge hurt more than she would have expected. It made her want to curl up and give in to tears. Some for what she’d lost, but also for the realization of how much she’d wanted that in her life. She’d wanted her happy ending.

With Raoul.

She sat up straight and opened her eyes. After checking to make sure he wasn’t in the room, she turned the thought over in her mind. With Raoul? As in… What? She was falling for him?

A dangerous place to go, she told herself. It was insane to fall for a guy who’d made it clear he didn’t want his heart to get involved.

She reminded herself she’d always been practical. This was completely the wrong time to be thinking with her heart.

“MY HANDS STILL SMELL FUNNY,” Peter said with a laugh, holding one up for her to inspect. “And I washed ’em like five times.”

“Garlic’s tricky that way,” Pia told him, enjoying having the boy to talk to. It was difficult to stay depressed in the presence of a happy ten-year-old.

“Raoul said a bad word when he dropped the spaghetti in the boiling water,” Peter said in a whisper. “It was funny.”

“I’m sure it was.”

Despite her misgivings about moving in with Raoul, practicality and her fear of stairs had won. He’d packed up her stuff and carried her down two flights of stairs—a testament to his workout commitment. Now she was settled in his guest room.

He’d called Peter’s foster parents and asked if the boy could join them for dinner. Pia appreciated having someone else there that first night. It made her feel less weird about being in Raoul’s house.

He appeared in the doorway, a dish towel over his shoulder. “I drain the meat before putting in the sauce, right?”

“Yes. But don’t put the grease down the drain.”

“Cooking is complicated.”

She laughed. “I told you not to start with making spaghetti. You could have heated up one of the casseroles. That would have been easier.”

“But I love a good challenge.”

“Typical man.”