The Unwanted Wife (Unwanted #1)(58)
He was standing with his back to the cubicle door, his head bowed beneath the strong spray and his hands braced against the tiled wall, long arms outstretched in front of him and muscles tensed. He didn’t seem to know that she was there until her hands touched the bunched muscles of his shoulders. She could feel his instinctive jerk of surprise beneath her touch and very gently moved her hands until they crept down under his arms and around to his broad chest. She could feel his bone-deep tremors and with gentle insistence tugged him back toward her until she was able to rest her cheek against the warm, wet skin of his back. Her hands were splayed across his chest, and she could feel the strong beat of his heart beneath her touch.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, dropping warm kisses across the skin of his back. “I’m so sorry, Sandro.” He shuddered violently before turning with a groan and gathering her into his arms, hunching his body around hers and burying his face in her still-dry hair. They stood that way for a long time before he lifted his ravaged face and looked down at her. His eyes were wet with tears, and he reached up to cup her face before lowering his lips to hers and kissing her hungrily. He did nothing more than that just kiss her like he would never get the chance to do so again. He kissed like a man who knew that he would have to go without sustenance for an unknown amount of time. Finally, chest heaving, he lifted his head and stared intently down into her dazed face.
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered gently. “The most beautiful thing in my life. I don’t want to leave you here. Not now.”
“I’ll be fine,” she reassured. This time she was the one to reach up and stroke his worried face. “The baby will be fine. I have Lisa and Rick. You have to take care of your family now, Sandro.”
“You’re my family too.” He repeated his words of the previous afternoon. “I have to take care of you too.”
“No.” She reached around him to shut off the water and met his eyes squarely. “I can take care of myself. And to be honest, having you here when you should be with your family will just add to my stress.” He said nothing for a few moments before shutting his eyes and nodding abruptly.
“Okay.” He inhaled deeply. “Okay, I’ll arrange my flight immediately.” She opened the door and reached for a couple of the heated towels hanging from the railing beside the shower cubicle, handing one over to him before wrapping one around herself, happy to be covering up her huge frame again.
An hour later she and Sandro were standing on the doorstep. The chauffeur of the driving service they sometimes used stood waiting patiently beneath an umbrella next to the shiny black sedan.
“Promise me that you’ll eat well,” Sandro urged, and she nodded somberly, knowing that he would need to have his head clear for what was to come. “And you’ll contact Elisa and Richard if you feel unwell.” Another nod. “And you will remember to take your vitamins?”
His voice was starting to get hoarse with emotion, and she gave him a wavering smile before nodding again.
“I promise.”
“You say this but you forget. I know you.” He shook his head in frustration. “It is important for your health, cara, and you no remember to take. It drive me crazy. I worry…” It was a sign of his anxiety and stress that his normally impeccable, lightly accented English had failed him so completely, and she stepped toward him and went on tiptoe to drop a kiss onto one of his lean cheeks.
“Why don’t you call Phumsile and Lisa once you land?” she suggested gently. “And if you’re worried about me forgetting, you can have them remind me.”
“Yes.” He nodded, appeased. “I will. Please, Theresa, call me. Anytime if you need anything, if you want to talk…call me. I’ll call you every day.”
“That’s good,” she said quietly, not sure if he’d have the time to talk with her every day but knowing that he needed to make the promise. “Now you’d better go before you miss your flight.” He nodded and dragged her into his arms for a passionate, desperate kiss before letting her go abruptly and striding down the steps toward the car. He paused when he reached the car and turned around for one last, lingering look at her before he climbed in and was gone.
Theresa turned blindly toward the house and once she was inside she felt completely lost. Not sure where to turn or who to turn to, she found herself walking toward Sandro’s study. She’d been in the room very few times before, and those times had always been in Sandro’s company. Now she felt like she was intruding into his domain, but it was the one place she felt closest to him. Everything bore his stamp. It was the only room he had insisted on decorating himself. He’d largely left the rest of the house up to Theresa, and she now knew it had been because he hadn’t much cared what their home together would look like since he’d never had any intention of it being permanent.
As she looked at the masculine room with its dark, heavy furniture and minimalist, almost Asian decor, she grasped how completely different it was from the rest of the house and her heart broke at this additional sign of how doomed their relationship had been from the start. She sank down onto the plush, black leather sofa, curled up into a ball, and cried for the life she could have had if she’d just been the woman Sandro had wanted. Once the bout of self-pity had passed, she sat up and wiped at her eyes before gently running her hands over her distended abdomen.