“Maybe I have been looking at this selfishly.”
“Not selfishly, but ill informed. Now that you know how difficult all this is, you’ve got to do whatever you can to make Dom’s life easier.”
* * *
Dom and Sally easily found the serving boy who had taken the pictures, but that didn’t change the fact that the damage was done. Dom looked at photos of himself on the dais, on the dance floor and leading Ginny to the rear entrance to return to their apartment, and even he saw it—the weakness. The ease with which he stepped out of his role as leader and into the role of what? A smitten lover?
He could not have that. He would not be his dad. If anything, now was the time to prove that he was stronger than his father.
He didn’t have lunch with Ginny, didn’t return to the apartment until after eight that night. When he opened the door and entered the sitting room, he found her on the sofa, reading a magazine. Dressed in a soft red robe with a floral nightgown beneath it, she rose when she saw him.
“Did you catch the creep who took those pictures?”
He headed for the bar. “Yes.”
“Want to talk about it?”
“No.”
She returned to her seat. “Okay.”
Silence descended on the room. He looked at the Scotch with disgust, remembering the orange juice he’d been drinking for “unity.” What was wrong with him that he’d been such a schmuck? All he’d been doing since their honeymoon was giving her the wrong idea.
He set the glass on the bar and didn’t even tell her he was going to get his shower. He let the water sluice over him, reminding himself that he was a ruler, royalty, someone set aside to do the noble task of keeping his people safe. He stood in the shower until he began to feel like his old self.
He put on a pair of pajamas and crawled into bed with the latest popular thriller. He might not be a television guy or a movie buff, but he liked a good story, a good book. He read until ten when his eyelids grew heavy. He set the book on the bedside table at the same time that Ginny entered the room.
He wanted to suggest that she go back to her old room, but couldn’t quite bring himself to be that mean. Eventually she’d grow weary of him ignoring her and she’d come to the decision on her own.
Soundlessly, she slipped out of her red robe, exposing the pretty flowered nightie. His gaze fell to her stomach, which peeped out every time she moved in such a way that the gown flattened against it. She said nothing. Just crawled into bed.
But she rolled over to him. She put her head on his shoulder and her hand on his stomach.
He resisted the urge to lower his arm and cuddle her to him. This was, after all, part of how he’d get her to see the truth of their situation and go back to her own room. But when her breathing grew even and soft and he knew she was asleep, he let his arm fall enough that he could support her.
Then he laid his hand on her stomach.
He closed his eyes, savoring the sensations of holding her, and fell asleep telling himself that it wouldn’t hurt to hold her every once in a while.
* * *
Dom’s life became a series of long days and empty meals. With Ginny’s mom deciding to retire to help Ginny care for the baby, he didn’t have to worry if she had company or if she was being cared for or entertained. In fact, the way she slept in in the morning and had lunches and most dinners with her mom made him feel they were establishing a great system for being together without being together.
The thing of it was, though, she was in his bed every night. She never said a word. Didn’t try to seduce him. She just rolled against him, put her head on his shoulder and her hand on his chest and fell asleep.
He didn’t resist it. Not because he took comfort from the small gesture, but because she was pregnant with his child, and he was hurting her. It almost seemed that this little ritual was her way of easing away from him. And if this was what she needed to do to get through the next months, he would let her have it.
But one night, she rolled against him and something bounced against his side. He peered down. The stomach beneath her thin yellow nightgown looked much bigger when she was on her side.
The bounce hit him again. He stiffened but she laughed.
“That’s your baby.”
He sprang up. “What?”
“Your baby.” She took his hand and set it on her stomach. “He’s moving.”
The rounded stomach beneath his hand rippled. His jaw dropped. He smoothed his fingers along the silken nightie.
She sat up. “Here.” She wiggled out of the nightie and tossed it. Sitting naked in the dark with him, she took both his hands and positioned them on either side of her belly.
The baby moved. A soft shift that almost felt like a wave.