Page 50 of Her Impossible Boss's Baby

“No. I didn’t need to be told. We needed to talk about it. Because what you are wanting to do, is it normal?”

“I’m not normal,” he said, feeling at the end of this. At the end of himself. “You know that. You have worked with me for five years. What about me has ever said normal human being.”

“I don’t think of you that way,” she said. “I don’t think of you as being weird. Or abnormal. But this isn’t normal. And when something is going to be abnormal, then surely it must occur to you on some level that you have to actually speak to the other person involved in the situation before you go...being that.”

“If I knew, if I had that level of clarity, then maybe I would. But it seems perfectly logical to me, and I don’t understand how it doesn’t to you. I am a medical doctor. I did a residency. I have done all the schooling, and all the training. I also have a doctorate in medical research, and have been responsible for many advancements in the field of medicine over the past decade. You know this. Why would you think that I would...not want my eyes, my expertise, my opinion involved in the single most important medical event that has ever occurred in my life.”

She said nothing for a moment. “You’re afraid, aren’t you?”

“I’m not afraid.”

“Yes, you are. You thought that I was sick when you came to Milan. You’re afraid of things going wrong for people that you... I don’t know, do you care about me, Luca?”

“How can you say that? My life would not function without you in it, and you are well aware of this.”

“All right. It’s all about how functional your life is or isn’t because I am in it. I forgot. That’s not caring.” She was silent for a moment. “You care about the baby, don’t you?”

“I do care,” he said. “I want you to allow me to care in the way that I know how to show it.”

She looked at him, something in her expression softening. “That’s admirable. But you also have to care in a way that the other person can receive it. It feels stressful for me. To have you be... There in an official capacity. There is a doctor. I want you there as...”

“Your husband? Because you don’t want me to be your husband in any other capacity. It is you who are inconsistent.”

Just then, the car pulled up to his building. He got out, and this time, he was the one who didn’t pay her any mind. He was the one who didn’t pause.

He walked into the building, a tangle of anger growling around his chest. Yet again, a whole layer of emotions he couldn’t quite so neatly define. But anger was certainly the hottest part. It made him burn.

She caught up to him by the time the elevator doors opened, and she got inside with him.

“Are you suggesting that you want to be my husband?” she asked when the doors closed.

“I asked you to marry me. You were the one who issued edicts about our physical relationship. And about what we would and would not be.”

“Can’t you see why?”

“Yes,” he said. “Because it is impossible to approach any of this fully logically. And I would prefer it if we could.”

“We’re human. Not Vulcan.”

“I’ve been accused of being a Vulcan more than once.”

“I know. By me. But you told me that isn’t how you are. You have to find a way to let that part of you come forward. The part that feels.”

“It’s uncomfortable.”

“Incubating your baby is pretty uncomfortable. I don’t know if you’ve noticed. But I’ve been rather unwell.”

The elevator reached its destination and she swept out.

And it was like everything in him went blank. It was like everything was calm. Clear. He saw her.

Just as he had May twenty-fourth at three thirty in the afternoon. When she walked into his apartment the sunlight tangled with her hair. Illuminating it. Casting it in gold.

Feeling.

Yes. He could open himself up to feeling. To all of it. To be a better husband, to be a better father.

But she had said that she didn’t want what he felt.

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