‘Good morning.’ He took a deep breath. ‘We need to talk about last night.’
Her smile vanished, and he hated himself for what he was about to do. But better to do it now than to leave it until they both got badly hurt. He needed to think of it like ripping off a plaster. Do it quickly, so you didn’t prolong the agony.
‘We agreed that it was just going to be that. Last night,’ he said.
‘Uh-huh.’ Her expression was completely impassive, but he knew he’d hurt her.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said, raking his hand through his hair. ‘I took advantage of you.’
‘We took advantage of each other,’ she corrected.
‘But I wasn’t fair to you. I...’
‘You made me feel like an attractive woman for the first time in years,’ she said softly, and colour stained her cheekbones.
Guilt surged through him even more. Hadn’t she already told him how hard she was finding it to start another relationship? And now he was knocking her back, making her feel useless and hopeless and unattractive again. He’d been so unfair to her. ‘You are an attractive woman. But we can’t do this. Mariana. I can’t do this.’
She said nothing, but her face was the tiniest bit pinched.
‘It’s not you,’ he said. ‘It’s me. I can’t...’ He owed it to her to tell her the truth. ‘You said you wanted children,’ he said.
‘At some point, yes,’ she agreed.
When she met the right man. Who so wasn’t him. ‘I can’t do that.’
‘Because you don’t want children.’
Oh, but he did. He’d had such plans for the future. And they’d all turned to dust. Yes, he had his niece, who would also be his goddaughter. But that wouldn’t have been enough for Stephanie. It wouldn’t be enough for any woman who wanted a child of her own.
‘I can’t have children,’ he said. ‘That’s why Stephanie left me. Why we got divorced. I had mumps when I was young, and it left me infertile.’
Mariana said nothing.
He didn’t want to see pity in her eyes, so he didn’t look at her. He should never, ever have given in to his body’s urging last night. Hadn’t he learned that he wasn’t enough? ‘So it’s pointless getting involved with me, because I can’t give you what you want.’
‘So you do want children.’
Wasn’t she listening? That wasn’t the issue. ‘I can’t have them,’ he repeated.
‘There’s more to being a parent than biology,’ she said softly. ‘There’s adoption. Fostering.’
Things he’d suggested to Stephanie and she’d rejected out of hand. ‘Or IVF.’ The words came out before he could stop them.
‘Or IVF,’ she said.
He looked at her, then. And there was no pity in her face. No judgement. Just sympathy. But he couldn’t do this. Couldn’t take the risk. Couldn’t face everything collapsing round him again.
‘I wasn’t enough for Stephanie. I know you’re not her, but I just can’t open myself up to that sort of hurt again.’ Being found wanting. Rejected. ‘I’m sorry. I wish things could be different. Last night, I should never—’
‘I get it,’ she cut in. ‘We shouldn’t have slept together. It was a mistake. And I understand if you’d rather have someone else work on your grandfather’s paintings. I can give you a few names.’
He raked his hand through his hair. ‘No. That isn’t fair. You’ve done so much already.’ How could he take this away from her, knowing how much she loved Carulli’s work? Or was this her way of telling him she wanted out? He faced it head-on. ‘Unless you’d rather not work with me any more.’
‘I want to know the story behind the painting,’ she said. ‘I want to do the cataloguing and study the paintings for my thesis.’
‘So you can work with me? Even though...’ Even though they’d made the mistake of sleeping together?
‘As long as we keep things strictly professional from here on,’ she said.
Which made it very clear to him that she didn’t feel quite the same way that he did, wishing things could be different, because she wasn’t trying to fight him and argue that maybe they had a chance together. It was obvious that last night, for her, had been an aberration. And she was happy to go back to how they’d been before: because she was bright enough to work out that he wouldn’t be enough for her, just as he hadn’t been enough for Stephanie.