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‘It’s not that. Maybe when you first decided that we were better off apart, free to see where life took us while remaining committed to our child, I thought about it and realised that it made sense.’
Their eyes tangled and she saw that in that instant Mateo knew that he had lost the argument. If he wanted marriage, he was going to have to win her over. And the only thing she wanted was the one thing he couldn’t give her.
Alice was flicking through the paper in the staffroom three weeks later when she froze.
Three of her friends were busy marking papers and she was waiting for Mateo to show up because he wanted to show her something. He wouldn’t say what.
She’d done her best to curb her excitement because she hadn’t failed to notice that, ever since his heady marriage proposal, all had gone quiet on that particular front. She’d backed off and he’d immediately respected the distance she had insisted on keeping between them.
No more talk of the burning desire that simmered between them and no gentle persuasion for her to come round to his marriage solution. Had he actually been serious when he’d told her that he still fancied her, wanted her? Or had he decided that that was the best route to take because he had changed his mind and wanted to put a ring on her finger?
The uncertainty tormented Alice but she knew that the best thing she could do for their relationship was to ignore it. If he had changed his mind, then there was nothing she could do about it and, in every other aspect, he was turning out to be the responsible guy he had held himself out to be.
Besides, if the pull of that intense, crazy desire was snuffed out, then wouldn’t that be all to the good? Wasn’t that one complication removed?
He called her daily, saw her at least a couple of times a week and had insisted on relocating her from her rented place to somewhere more suitable. Alice had not objected, and the new place was so much more magnificent that she was quietly grateful that he had taken charge and stampeded through her weak protests that she was perfectly happy where she was. He’d also deposited a startling sum of money into her account, which he had labelled ‘petty cash’, and had opened several accounts for her at some of the high-end department stores.
He was as respectful and charming as any woman could have hoped for from the father of her unborn child and Alice struggled not to absolutelyhate it. It was an adult, civilised relationship and she treacherously longed for the passion which had disappeared. No amount of bracing mantras could ease the anguish of having the man she adored so close and yet so far.
It hardly helped that when they had gone to see her parents, to jointly break the news to them, he had somehow managed to charm them into accepting what was presented as not marriage, but something sensible, loving and transparent—just as good in many ways.
The perfect guy. Except now, staring down at the pictures in the weekly gossip rag in front of her, the reality of their relationship was hitting home—because there he was, at some networking bash or other which he had attended the week before. And next to him, gazing up at him, was just the sort of leggy blonde he used to date before she’d come along.
She didn’t want to keep staring at the pictures, looking for clues, so she slapped the magazine shut. But the images were imprinted in her head and they were still there, churning around, when Mateo buzzed her fifteen minutes later to tell her that he was waiting outside.
Mateo was lounging against his car, waiting for Alice to emerge. Winter had morphed into spring and there was a pleasant hint of warmth in the air. It was a source of wonder as to why she insisted on remaining in her job when there was no need.
‘I like the people I work with,’ she had told him doggedly, when he had probed her on that point. ‘And I enjoy the kids, even though they can sometimes be unruly and stubborn. I love what I do and you can’t expect me to give it all up just because I don’t need the money any longer.’
Mateo was discovering what it was like to be with a woman who wasn’t impressed with what he could provide. He’d steered clear of returning to the subject of marriage. He figured that, the more he made of it, the deeper she would dig in her heels, and maybe she would see sense if he resorted to the art of subtle persuasion, but he was beginning to wonder whether it was a ploy that was going to work.
Accustomed to getting his own way in everything, it went against the grain to play the long game but he could see no other way. He was dealing with a woman who was completely different from any woman he had ever known and in this instance he was on uncertain territory.
He’d had to back off, and back off he had. He’d ditched all talk of marriage and had been scrupulous when it came to not touching her or giving her any reason to think that he wanted to revive the physical side of their relationship. It felt as if he was starting from scratch, playing an urgent courting game, the rules of which he was not wholly sure about.
She had principles. Having met her parents, he could see where that had come from. He could see that what she wanted was to emulate the quiet love her parents shared. The more he thought about that, the more hopeless he felt about his quest to convince her that there were alternatives, and that those alternatives were workable and satisfactory—that within the framework of marriage lay a host of different ingredients; that there were no hard and fast rules that applied to everyone.
He saw her push through the glass door of the school and he straightened. She wore loose dark-grey trousers, a dark-grey jumper and serviceable flat shoes. It was the outfit of a working woman who put comfort above appearance and who had certainly done nothing in the way of dressing to impress because he was picking her up.
He walked towards her and had to resist the temptation to tuck some of those loose strands of hair behind her ears. The physical chemistry he felt buzzed like a live wire just beneath the surface of his polite conversation. Again, he was questioning his vow not to touch her. Was torturing himself like this even the right way to get what he wanted?
‘How was your day?’ he asked, relieving her of a backpack that seemed far too heavy for someone in her condition.
‘Good, thank you. And yours?’
Mateo flicked her a curious, sideways glance as he picked up something in her tone of voice that was a little off-key.
‘The usual,’ he drawled. ‘Stuck behind a desk making a shedload of money.’
‘Anything else you’ve been doing recently?’
‘Throw me some clues so that I can see where that question is going, would you?’
‘It’s not important. Where are you taking me? I hope it’s nowhere fancy because I won’t be changing into any party outfits. I’m tired after a hectic day at school, and honestly, all I really want to do is go home, have a shower, mark some homework and then go to bed.’
‘Why on earth are you hanging onto that job? You’re pregnant. You shouldn’t be working your fingers to the bone.’
‘We’ve already been through this, Mateo. I’m a normal person who enjoys doing a normal job. I’m not one of these glamorous types who thinks it’s okay to swan around doing nothing but going to beauty parlours and attending fancy social dos.’