Читать книгу Back In Dr Xenakis' Arms - Amalie Berlin - Страница 12

CHAPTER THREE

ERIANTHE DROPPED HEAVILY onto the side of a guest bed at Chris’s gorgeous cliffside villa. How long had it taken her to become adept at hiding her feelings? And had it ever been this hard?

If the inevitable confrontation with Ares hadn’t sucked every drop of energy from her, her time with Chris and Chris’s baby afterward had consumed the last of it.

Theo had taken the news that she didn’t want to stay with him pretty well and, after some initial resistance, had driven her to Chris’s home. He’d refused to be convinced to go home until he’d seen that she was settled in, so they’d all sat down to share coffee as he’d snuggled with little Evangelos, Chris’s seven-month-old son.

Soon Theo would be a baba himself, and if the way he reacted to his honorary “nephew” was any indication, he’d be a natural at it. Far better than their father had ever been. He would have been a wonderful uncle to her own child too...

And at that thought she’d begun to feel the weight of every atom in her body. Her movements had become jerky, sluggish, and even her smile had trembled when she’d tried to force it. The trembling was the worst part of this strange exhaustion.

It was probably a blessing that today had been a travel day—she had something to blame for her exhaustion. Everyone had certainly put her oddness down to that today, and maybe they’d let that excuse carry for a couple of days if she was lucky.

It was easy to control the expression on her face, but her body was out of control. That feeling of helplessness was how she’d lived for the duration of her pregnancy, and she’d never wanted to return to it.

First seeing Ares again, then being watched by Theo and Chris, and all the while trying very hard not to think about Chris’s beautiful baby son—who somehow managed to look like his stupidly handsome father even whilst hiding Chris’s strong jawline under chubby cherub cheeks...

None of that was within her control. Nothing felt within her control right now—no matter what she’d all but shouted at Ares about making her own decisions.

She stared out the window at the play of light and shadow of the late-afternoon sunshine through the trees in the yard in an effort to control the trembling she felt inside. At least she’d gotten beyond the point where it showed in her face and hands, but it was still there in her belly, in her chest, deeper than anyone could see. Right where she’d always tried to keep everything hidden.

Pretending that Chris was only babysitting felt immature and cold. Plus, it didn’t help. If he’d babysat for anyone, it would have been one of theirs.

Theo’s future baby. Deakin’s future baby.

She had no one to tell about her daughter, how she should have been a mother ten years ago. That she should be in the process of being driven mad by a willful tween who refused to listen, plastered her walls with posters of pop singers and thought her mother was an idiot.

Theo’s extremely helpful big-brother thing meant she had nothing to do now but sit and stare. And think. And that was the thing that would drive her mad in the end. It broke all her rules about self-preservation. Thinking about the past and what she should have had: a daughter to love and protect and nurture. A decade of memories of bubble baths in the sink and frilly toddler bikinis, living in a world of pink.

Erianthe had rebelled against all those girlie things when she was growing up, but for her daughter... She’d have done her whole house up in shades of pink for her daughter.