Chapter 7
In three years of marriage, he had asked permission for almost nothing because he had believed protecting someone meant removing the burden of choosing.
Naomi turned her palm upward.
He took her hand.
His fingers trembled.
She looked at him.
Adrian Vale, who could stare down armed men without blinking, was crying silently.
One tear escaped before he wiped it away with the back of his free hand.
“Don’t,” Naomi whispered.
His face tightened. “Don’t what?”
“Hide it.”
Something changed between them.
He lowered his hand.
Another tear came.
He let her see it.
Afterward they sat alone in a consultation room, the ultrasound picture lying between them.
Naomi touched the edge of it.
“I’m keeping the baby.”
Adrian closed his eyes briefly.
When they opened again, relief had transformed his face.
“All right.”
Her guard rose instantly.
“That is not an invitation to cancel the divorce.”
“I know.”
“I can raise this child without staying married to you.”
“I know.”
“You will have access. We’ll make arrangements. Security, schedules, whatever is necessary.”
“I know.”
She stared.
“Aren’t you going to fight me?”
His expression became grim.
“I’ve spent three years fighting you without realizing that was what I was doing.”
The answer hurt.
Naomi looked away.
“I thought you’d use the baby.”
“As leverage?”
“Yes.”
Adrian leaned forward, elbows on his knees.
“I could.”
She flinched.
He continued before she could speak.
“I could delay the divorce. I could frighten attorneys. I could make arguments about security, family interests, inheritance. I could turn every advantage I have into a wall around you.”
“Adrian—”
“That is precisely why I won’t.”
She stared at him.
He looked exhausted.
“For three years, you have lived inside decisions I called protection. If I use our child to keep you now, then I prove you were right to leave.”
Her eyes burned.
“I didn’t need a fortress.”
“I know.”
“I needed you.”
His throat moved.
“I know that now too.”
“No, you don’t. When I had surgery, you sent flowers from New York.”
“I was negotiating—”
“I know where you were. When my restoration was selected for the Bellwood exhibition, your assistant sent congratulations.”
“I saw the photographs.”
“That isn’t the point.”
“I know.”
“When I asked you to have dinner with me, you bought me a restaurant reservation for the entire room.”
“I thought you wanted privacy.”
“I wanted a husband!”
Her voice cracked.
Adrian absorbed the words without defending himself.
Tears blurred Naomi’s vision.
“You gave me houses, money, drivers, guards. You gave me everything except yourself.”
“I thought that was how men like me loved.”
The anger drained from her face.
“What does that mean?”
For a long moment he said nothing.
Then Adrian looked toward the window.
“My father never told my mother where he was going. He called that protection. She never asked why his shirts sometimes came home ruined. She called that loyalty. Every man I grew up around believed fear could be managed by hiding information and love could be proven by eliminating problems.”
His eyes returned to Naomi.
“I thought if no one could touch you, threaten you, bankrupt you, frighten you, or use you against me, then I had done my job as a husband.”
“You kept me safe from everything except loneliness.”
May you like
“Yes.”
The word was barely audible.
