Page 198 of Falling for the Wife

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“Caro, I need to use the bathroom,” she sighed out with a smile in her tone.

Slowly, I eased off her, cautious about her reaction.

This was the side of Kimberly I wasn’t sure about—the mental and emotional aspect. Since we were done making love, it was petrifying to think that I couldn’t read what she was thinking, and knowing her, she was thinking plenty.

Watching her naked form stride towards the bathroom, I followed her, not wanting to be apart from her for too long.

From the back view, one couldn’t tell she was pregnant. I was tempted to ask if it was healthy to be this skinny during this stage of pregnancy, but I didn’t want to ruin the shared, tranquil vibe between us. I knew from experience that women tended to be a little sensitive when it came to the subject of pregnancy. Therefore, I didn’t want to press on that matter with her. I was sure she was on top of it. She was that kind of a woman. I trusted she would take very good care of our baby.

Funny how a kiss from her could completely vanquish all my doubts about the paternity of the baby’s father. It was as if her kiss had cemented my confidence, as if it was a validation of the undeniable connection she and I shared. It might seem silly, petty even, but it was how I felt. I had never been this connected with her, and I supposed I had to take her word for it. Everything had been a risk, and so it would be once more.

Upon entering the bathroom, Kimberly barely gazed at her naked body in the mirror. Instead, she was focused on washing her hands. She did it in such a way that gave away how much she was thinking. It was slow—too slow—that she rinsed even though the soap was all washed off.

Desperately needing her to stop weighing everything in, I threw out my ideas offhandedly.

“I want you to divorce him and marry me,” I blurted out, realizing I meant every single word of it. Yes, her carrying my last name and the baby, as well, was just as it should’ve been.

For some reason, the idea didn’t seem to appeal to her because she immediately tensed, becoming pale as a ghost. She stared back at me from the mirror, truly aghast at my suggestion as she licked her lips, perplexed.

“Luca.”

“This is how it’s going to be from now on, Kim.” My life depended on this. There was no going back. It was all or nothing.

She shook her head. “No …”

“Like hell it isn’t!I just had you moments ago, was inside of you, making love to you, and you’re telling me that all of that shit meant nothing?” I fucking didn’t get her.

With her eyes downcast, she slowly spun around to face me before lifting those powerful eyes towards me. “I can’t leave. I can’t do that to Anton. I’m sorry,” she said in a decisive manner, shifting everything inside of me, as my heart gradually shriveled at her decision.

In total shock and utter disbelief of her decision and that she didn’t even give it a moment to think things through, her betrayal ran deeply once more, reminding me who I was dealing with—the woman who had chosen another man.

Swallowing the little pride I had left, I still persisted like the stubborn fool I was.

“But why, Kim? I don’t understand,” I asked in the most confused, broken tone, hoping she didn’t see how her words profoundly affected me.

“I’ll always want you—what we had in those two short weeks—but I’m married now, Luca. I wish I could throw everything away and be with you, but it’s just not in the cards for me.”

“Kim …” I openly begged, my knees dropping to the floor, ready to lay everything on the line just to be with her. “Please … Don’t do this to me,” I whispered in a shattered voice. “Not again. Please, not again.” I was a glutton for punishment.

Why must she keep doing this? I didn’t understand any of it. I couldn’t comprehend what her intentions were in coming here.

“I’m sorry. I’m so very sorry.” She sniffed, brushing past my frozen, unmoving body.

I was still processing her answer when I heard her fleeing in the background. My brain was commanding me to move, to reach out to her, to seek understanding, but I was too flummoxed, too hurt to function properly.

She probably regretted everything that had just happened. Her guilt possibly had made her unable to handle being around me, as if I was simply a mistake as she had once insinuated. Why must I keep torturing myself at the thought of her? At the memory of us when she herself couldn’t be bothered with it?

I was at a loss for words to describe anything at all. I was at a standstill, frozen from shock, from my blinding stupidity.

Goddammit, but her rejection hurt even more than before. I had thought I was immune from it, yet I wasn’t. Through the dull numbness came a faint ache, forever stinging, forever reminding that I wasn’t worthy of her.

Sei

I gave myself a day to console myself, nothing more. The day after that solemn day, I had to toughen myself up and get back to business.

Rage fueled my fire, and with that came my decision of fully taking part in the baby’s life. That unborn baby had my blood running through him or her. It was imperative the child carry my name, my legacy—my family’s legacy and years of history. The di Medici last name came with responsibility and unprecedented wealth. My child was entitled to all of that, and I didn’t want Kimberly or her husband depriving him or her of what was rightfully theirs.