The Unwanted Wife Part 2

"Something to do," was her casual response.

"I thought..." He hesitated and Theresa's eyes snapped up to his face in surprise, the hesitation was so unusual in her supremely confident husband. "I thought we could have lunch together... go out somewhere. We haven't done that in a while."

"Try never," she half-laughed incredulously and his brows beetled slightly.

"Of course we have..." he began.

"Once," she nodded. "About a month before we were married. I remember that once quite vividly because I felt like a heroine in my own personal fairytale. The giddy, foolish, not-quite-so-fair maiden having a meal with her dark, broody, oh-so-handsome prince who couldn't be bothered to string together two sentences the entire time and checked his watch every five minutes like he had someplace much more important to be. But of course, I didn't care, that was just the way you were and I 'loved'..." she sneered the word. "...you anyway. We never went out again after that."

"Of course we did," despite his a.s.sertion, he looked remarkably uncomfortable; he shifted his shoulders restlessly and shoved his hands into his jean pockets.

"Those other times were official work-related dinners, the ones you have to take your wife to." He frowned even more but chose not to respond to her statement.

"Well, then I'd say it's about time we went out together don't you?" He asked in an artificially cheerful voice and Theresa slanted her head as she tried to read his expression. As usual he was giving nothing away. Her lips tilted slightly in a cynical and unamused smile.

"I don't think so, Sandro," she shook her head. "I think I'll go to my cousin's place like I'd originally planned." He nodded thoughtfully, swaying back and forth on his heels in an uncharacteristically restless manner.

"Suit yourself," he shrugged. "What time were you planning to leave?"

"Soon."

"Right," he shrugged again looking strangely awkward. "See you later then." She nodded and he turned away and left without saying another word.

Rick and Lisa were doing nothing more productive than watching DVD's when Theresa came around. Lisa, in her advanced state of pregnancy, couldn't do much else. They were both lounging in the den, Rick looking devastating in a snug, well-worn pair of jeans and a grey t-shirt that had definitely seen better days. Lisa, in the meantime, looked miserable in a huge blue and white striped football jersey that Theresa knew had once belonged to Rick, who was a capable Sunday afternoon player, and a pair of stretchy blue leggings. She was about the size of a baby whale. Therese simply melted when she caught sight of her cranky younger cousin and once again resolved not to do anything to jeopardise her happiness and health. She dropped a kiss on Lisa's cheek and one on the top of Rick's head as she pa.s.sed behind the sofa on which they were sitting. Rick grinned up at her.

"Nothing exciting planned for today, sweetie," he informed cheerfully as Theresa sank down onto the other sofa. "I'm afraid we're feeling a bit out of sorts today, a touch grumpy, if you will. So we're staying in, in the hopes that it will improve our temper... ouch!" The last as Lisa swatted him in the back on his head.

"Stop talking like that, you know it drives me crazy! I'm not a two year old throwing a tantrum, I'm the hormonal woman you knocked up! So don't push me..." Rick slanted a rueful gaze at his amused friend and mouthed a wisely silent "see?" Theresa grinned before kicking off her shoes and dragging her feet up under her. She was dressed casually too, wearing an old pair of jeans and a bright blue t-shirt with a large, stylized b.u.t.terfly printed on the front of it.

"What are we watching?" Theresa asked, leaning forward to help herself to a handful of the popcorn which was in a gla.s.s bowl on the coffee table.

"Some romantic thing that has Lisa dissolving into tears every two minutes or so," Rick shrugged dismissively, ignoring the way his wife was glaring at him over the top of her round little gla.s.ses. "G.o.d, the sacrifices I make to keep this woman happy," he groaned and Lisa gasped in outrage.

"Well if you had your way, we'd be watching some macho jerk swear and punch his way through two of hours of relentless explosions, car chases and gunfire," she retorted and he grinned down at her.

"Your point being?"

"Aaargh!" She actually said "aaargh" and Theresa for the first time in a long time felt a giggle bubbling up in her throat. Rick suddenly grinned before dropping one arm around his wife's narrow shoulders to drag her closer. He placed his other hand protectively over her stomach and Lisa put up a token struggle before sighing contentedly and dropping her head onto his broad shoulder. Theresa watched them enviously for a few moments before trying to focus on the movie. She had thought Rick was exaggerating about her cousin's response to the overly-soppy film but it was true, Lisa sniffled on an average of every two minutes. Theresa was just managing to get somewhat absorbed in the plot when the doorbell went. Rick excused himself and jumped up to answer it.

Lisa watched him go with a slight smile on her face. She was quiet for a while before shaking her head in exasperation.

"You know, if I didn't love him so darned much, I would probably have killed him by now," she admitted sourly and Theresa surprised herself by laughing out loud in response to her cousin's disgruntled confession. She couldn't believe that her sense of humour was still intact after the events of the last forty-eight hours. Rick made his way back into the room, looking uncharacteristically grim and all the laughter and light drained from Theresa's face when she saw who was standing behind the tall blonde man.

"What are you doing here?" She finally managed to choke out after a moment of shocked silence.

"I thought I'd join you all for lunch," he shrugged, nodding apologetically to a still gaping Lisa. "May I sit down?" He indicated toward the sofa Theresa was occupying.

"Yes, of course," Lisa nodded graciously.

"No!" Both Rick and Theresa all-but yelled at the same time as Lisa. Sandro smiled humourlessly before choosing to ignore their vehement rejections and sitting down beside Theresa. She shied as far away from him as she could but Sandro chose to ignore that too. He leaned forward and placed his elbows on his spread thighs with his large, masculine hands dangling down between his legs. He focused intently on Lisa.

"How have you been, Elisa?" He asked gently. He was the only one who ever called Lisa by her full name and Theresa could sense Rick bristling.

"Fine thanks," Lisa murmured, rubbing her hands over her stomach in an instinctively maternal gesture. "A little tired but I suppose that it's to be expected when you're lugging another human being around." Sandro grinned, he actually grinned, at that and nodded.

"Indeed."

"Rick, for G.o.d's sake, stop hovering and sit down," Lisa snapped up at her still-glowering husband. "I would like to finish watching this movie sometime in this year! We're having lunch afterwards, Alessandro, I hope you don't mind?"

"Of course not," he said smoothly, leaning back and making Theresa feel incredibly claustrophobic as he crowded her with his large body. "What are we watching?" Lisa told him and Sandro did an admirable job of concealing his grimace. Lisa barely contained her own grin before hitting the play b.u.t.ton. Rick rejoined her on the sofa, sending periodic glares over at Sandro, who kept his eyes glued on the screen and looked unfairly relaxed.

Lisa dropped her head onto her husband's broad shoulder and resumed her occasional sniffling and Rick, unable to remain furious for long with his wife draped across him dragged Lisa close again and snuggled her up against him. His fingers interlaced with the hand she had resting on her stomach and Theresa felt like she was the only sane person in the room. Sandro was sprawled out beside her, his shoulders and thighs brushed against her every time he breathed, the other couple was snuggled together like a couple of lovebirds and she, Theresa, felt like she was losing her mind!

She got up abruptly and left the room, heading blindly toward the kitchen, where she stood in the middle of the room taking in great gasps of air. She should have known that he would follow her even there because when she turned back toward the kitchen door, there he was, watching her and a looking splendid in his own version of casual wear; a pair of faded blue jeans and a black dress shirt with the top b.u.t.ton open to reveal the strong, masculine column of his neck.

"Why did you come here?" She asked on a whisper.

"I thought that we should spend some time together," he said with a gentleness that Theresa instinctively mistrusted.

"But I told you... I don't want to spend time with you," she said in a soft, bewildered voice. "I don't want to be anywhere near you!"

"Theresa..." he said, still in that same gentle voice, taking a cautious step into the room and Theresa backed up until she hit the fridge.

"The one place I had... the one place I could come and be myself," she shook her head, her eyes were wide and shimmering with tears. "And you had to take that from me too..." the tears overflowed and she desperately tried to blot them from her cheeks with the hem of her t-shirt. He made a soft almost dismayed sound in his throat before moving so quickly that she barely had time to register it. One second he was still close to the kitchen entrance and the next he was right in front of her, sandwiching her between his body and the fridge. His large hands reached up to cup her face and his thumbs brushed roughly at the tears on her cheeks.

"Don't," his voice was low and gravelly and so thick that she could barely understand that one word. She raised her much smaller hands to his and tugged futilely at his hold, trying to get him to release her.

"I want to make things less difficult for us, Theresa..." he muttered uncomfortably, his face so close to hers that his breath washed over her skin and raised goose pimples all over her body.

"Why now?" She challenged the ludicrous statement angrily, trying to ignore the effect his closeness was having on her very receptive body. Her soft green eyes snapped up at his through her tears. "Is it because I'm threatening to leave this marriage without giving you your precious son, is that it?" She dropped her hands down to his hard, broad chest and tried to push him away. He wouldn't budge.

"No," was all he said. "That's not it... because I know you won't leave."

"What makes you so sure of that?" She hissed and he was silent for a while before responding.

"The discussion we had yesterday," he eventually, reluctantly, said and she went limp against him, all the fight leaving her abruptly.

"So, if you're so sure I won't leave, what's this sudden need you have to spend your every waking moment with me?" She asked hollowly.

"We're married for G.o.d's sake... and we're like strangers! I know nothing about you!"

"Of course you know nothing about me," her voice was hoa.r.s.e with the effort it took not to scream at him. "You're the one who decided, even before we got married, that there was nothing worth knowing about me."

"Well I've changed my mind," he didn't bother to deny her wild accusation, probably because it was true, instead dropping his hands down to her narrow shoulders to give her a little shake.

"Which once again begs the question of why... after eighteen months of marriage, why now?" His hands fell from her shoulders before he shrugged with an air of disinterest which belied his urgency of just seconds ago.

"Why not now? Now's as good a time as any..." he was back to being remote and icy and Theresa shuddered involuntarily.

"It's much too late, Sandro," she whispered, wrapping her arms around her slender frame. "I may be trapped in this marriage but I want nothing to do with you! The very sight of you makes me sick to my stomach."

"There's a way out of this you know," he finally murmured.

"I know," his hooded gaze snapped back up to her face. "Have a baby, right? You want a son... and I'm the chosen incubator." She watched his face carefully but he betrayed not one iota of emotion other than a slight tightening of his jaw. "So what happens after I have this precious baby of yours? Who gets him after the divorce? You expect me to be nothing but a surrogate mother. I'm to bear him and you'll then take him away from me, right?"

She was aching to hear an affirmative from him, anything that would prove to her that he was the one who wanted the child and that she had misunderstood the conversation she had overheard between her husband and her father that morning.

"Of course I wouldn't take him from you," he shook his head, sending her heart plummeting. "I wouldn't be that cruel. Naturally you'd maintain custody," Theresa shut her eyes to shield her agony from him and she felt her scalding tears seep down her cheeks.

"How very... magnanimous of you," she whispered. "To be so desperate for something only to give it up in the end... you're so much more generous than I gave you credit for. How often would you want to see him?"

"I would naturally move back to Italy so I would probably see him two or three times a year. It is what you want, no? Less contact with me?" She inhaled deeply and her brow furrowed. Two or three times a year? That was all the time he would want to spend with a child who was half hers? She opened her eyes and met his gaze squarely.

"Like I said before, you're being quite generous but it's all moot anyway because I have no intention of having a baby with you!"

"You're being very childish, Theresa," he admonished quietly.

"No, I'm finally making my own decisions. Up to this point in my life, everything has been decided for me... this marriage would never have happened if my father hadn't decided that you would make the perfect son-in-law. After that, the wedding date, the venue, the cake, where we would live... it was all you or my father. I couldn't even choose my own wedding dress," the last emerged in a small, broken voice which quavered with remembered disbelief and outrage. Her father had simply had the dress delivered to her room with the direction that it was to be worn on her wedding day, no discussion and no choice.

"The only reason I got Lisa as a bridesmaid was because my father deemed it appropriate for my first cousin to be in the wedding party. If she'd been just a friend, I doubt she'd have fit the bill!"

"It turns my stomach to hear someone who's led such a privileged life whine on about how terrible her life is, you've been spoilt and you've had everything money could buy..."

"Except love, specifically my husband's love and my father's love... apparently I'm not quite worthy of that."

"You're feeling sorry for yourself and I'm getting sick of it."

"Yes, I'm feeling sorry for myself," she acknowledged bitterly. "And it's very liberating. In the past all I've done is accept everything you and my father have dished out... thinking it was my lot in life, even thinking I deserved it; if two such powerful men as you thought I wasn't worthy of love and respect, then who was I to differ? But I'm starting to realise that I'm not the one at fault here. I'm not the one with the personality defect... at least my motives for marrying you were honest; I stupidly believed I loved you. Yours were less than stellar, weren't they? They certainly had nothing to do with love."

"They had everything to do with love," he suddenly thundered, silencing her abruptly as she stared up at him in wide-eyed shock. "Just not love for you." She blinked up at him; her green eyes the only colour in her deathly pale face.

"What does that mean?" She asked through barely moving lips. "Love for whom?" Was he referring to Francesca? If he really loved the other woman so much, why on earth marry Theresa? It made no sense.

"None of your d.a.m.ned business," he grated furiously, a muscle working frantically in his jaw.

"It never is," she finally nodded bitterly. "It has nothing to do with me, yet it affects every aspect of my life. You want something from me but you're unable to give me anything in return. Well, I've had enough of that, Sandro. You want a baby but this is my body and so it's my decision to make..."

"I'm your husband..."

"No. You are not my husband," she interrupted in a voice thickened with hatred and tears. "You have never been my husband. A husband loves, honours and cherishes! A husband is a lover and a champion... Look into the next room if you want to see what a real husband is, because you are no such thing!" He reeled away from her, looking like a man who'd just been bitten by his favourite pet and she pushed herself away from the fridge to brush past him.

"Theresa, wait..." he grabbed one of her arms to prevent her from running off.

"I have to go, please tell Rick and Lisa that..."

"No," he interrupted gently. "You stay. This is your family, you are right this is your place and I should not have intruded. I'm sorry..." his eyes skirted away from hers as he made apology and Theresa's jaw dropped at his second apology in twenty-four hours. She felt certain that the world would grind to a halt at any moment. "I will leave now... it is how it should be." With that he dropped her arm and walked out, leaving her to stare after him in confusion.

Chapter Three.

The house was dark and quiet when she got home, with no seething Sandro waiting at the front door this time, just echoing silence as she made her way upstairs and back into the spare bedroom. After a hot shower, she collapsed into bed and didn't stir until the following morning, when she woke to bright sunlight. She sat up in confusion as she tried to get her bearings and realised that she wasn't in the spare bedroom anymore. A quick glance around confirmed that she was back in the master suit and a glance down at the empty s.p.a.ce beside her confirmed that Sandro had indeed slept beside her. She peeked down at herself and was relieved to note that she still had on the t-shirt she had worn to bed.

She checked the clock and groaned when she realised that she had slept to nearly ten in the morning. Pushing the tumbled ma.s.s of her hair out of her face, she got up and was alarmed when the room started spinning wildly around her. She stumbled a couple of steps before reaching for the headboard of the bed and steadying herself. She frowned slightly as she tried to recall the last time she had had a decent meal... definitely not the previous day's breakfast, which had come back up after that overheard phone call, or lunch which had been spoiled by Sandro's appearance at Rick and Lisa's place and dinner had been a non-event. Even though Rick and Lisa had urged her to eat the night before, Theresa just could not stomach the thought of food after the day she'd had! Sat.u.r.day had been much of the same; all she'd had to eat was popcorn at the movies.

Now she was paying the price for all those missed meals. Heading for the shower she decided to treat herself to a decent brunch. Monday was the housekeeper's day off and they had no other live-in staff so Theresa had the house to herself. She was looking forward to just spending the day on her own, trying to figure out what her next move would be. She couldn't leave him and it seemed that he couldn't leave her. So what now? Sighing she decided to switch off her brain until after she'd eaten lest she lose her appet.i.te again.

Less than an hour later she was dry-heaving over the commode in the downstairs guest bathroom. Just the smell of frying bacon and eggs had been enough to set her off. After her stomach stopped revolting, she stumbled out onto the patio, as far away from the nauseating smell of cooked food as she could possibly get, and sank down onto a chaise longue overlooking the huge infinity swimming pool.

"No..." she whispered staring blindly at the edge of the pool, where the aquamarine water of the pool seemed to merge with the darker blue of the ocean and the cobalt blue of sky. "No no no no... no... please G.o.d! No..."

She buried her face in her hands and rocked back and forth slightly. Her system was just off-kilter because of the gut-wrenching events of the last forty-eight hours. Naturally she'd feel nauseous after not eating in so long. It was all perfectly logical... she was simply overreacting.

She couldn't be this unlucky, not after finally making some kind of progress in achieving independence from this marriage. She tried to remember when her last period had been but she had been under a lot of stress lately and her period had been affected so that was not the most reliable way to gauge anything. She got up gingerly and was relieved when the movement didn't upset her equilibrium, heading toward the kitchen, she braced herself for a fresh onslaught of nausea but thankfully her stomach stayed as steady as a rock. Breathing a sigh of relief, she headed toward the stove and picked up the pan, averting her eyes as she deposited the congealed mess that would have been her meal, into the waste disposal unit. She settled on black tea and dry toast instead determinedly putting her irrational fear of pregnancy out of her head.

After finishing the unappetizing meal, she headed for the bright, sunny attic which she had transformed into a workroom and put on some music while she immersed herself in her work. She so often lost herself up here, loving the serenity that usually came over her when she was working but today she just couldn't concentrate. She had an image in her mind, knew what she wanted but she just couldn't put it down on paper. She sat in front of her drawing board, staring at the fifth blank sheet of paper in half an hour, resting her elbow on the tilted board and her delicate chin in one hand as she stared at the paper and willed the image into existence. She raised her pencil, resting the nib on the paper, before sighing resignedly and shaking her head in frustration. She dropped the pencil and pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes.

"Theresa," the quiet voice coming from behind her sent her flying out of her seat in alarm, she half-turned, half-crouched in a defensive position before she realised that it was Sandro's voice. Of course that didn't make her feel any safer than an unknown intruder would have done. He had both hands up, palms facing her, to keep her calm.

"Relax... I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," he soothed.

"Well, you did," she retorted furiously. "Why on earth are you skulking around at home this time of day anyway? Usually you don't get home until seven or eight." He always left for work before seven in the morning and usually returned well after the time most "normal" husbands would come home.

"I thought that we could spend the afternoon together," he muttered distractedly while his keen eyes absorbed every aspect of the room. He was walking around now, barely paying her any attention, lifting things, fiddling with her tools, until Theresa couldn't take it anymore.

"Don't touch that!" She snapped impatiently when he lifted a pair of cutters that had cost the earth to import.

"You design jewellery," he whispered in astonishment, his eyes finally lifting to meet hers and Theresa's own gaze fluttered away, while her cheeks fired with embarra.s.sment.

"I know they're no good," she ventured nervously, waving at the large portfolio he had lifted from one of her other workstations: she had the drawing board for designing, a work table for actually making the jewellery, a small cutting table for cutting wire and shaping semi-precious stones and her desk which housed her laptop, for paperwork and correspondence. "And I know that I should not be wasting my time with it. But it's just a hobby... so..." her voice petered off as he continued to flip through her portfolio with an absorbed frown, occasionally lingering on a page before moving on. She stood in front of him, fidgeting nervously, waiting for the scathing set down that would undoubtedly follow. He suddenly turned the open book toward her.

"This is your cousin's engagement set," he observed, tapping at the picture of the diamond and white gold earring, pendant and ring set she had made for Rick a few years before.

"Yes but they're Rick's design. I just made them."

"I can tell they're not your design. Your things are more..." he paused and Theresa braced herself. "Raw... elemental... why don't you work with real gemstones, instead of semi-precious stones?"

"Uncut precious stones are insanely expensive. Semi-precious stones are cheap and easy to find and if they're damaged in any way while I'm setting them, it's no big deal." He grunted again, obviously barely hearing her as he went back to flipping through her portfolio.

"And this is what you do all day?" He looked back up at her for confirmation.

"Well I can hardly sit around and twiddle my thumbs all day, can I?" She challenged and his eyes flickered slightly. She snorted disdainfully as she realised that that was exactly what he'd thought she did all day. He probably thought she spent her days shopping and lounging around in beauty salons.

"Why did I not know this about you?" He asked quietly and she shrugged.