Page 61 of Heart of The Night

‘Really?’ she asked, her tone holding a note of surprise, as if she didn’t quite believe me.

I held her gaze, caressing her cheek. ‘Yes. But I feel that way every time I get to make love to you, Cara.’

Her face lit up with a brilliant grin. ‘You’re the most wonderful man I’ve ever known,’ she said suddenly, and my heart palpitated. It sounded so much like a veiled confession, a subtle declaration of love. And it frightened me. I wasn’t yet ready to hear her express those feelings. If she did, I would be compelled to reveal the situation with Francesca immediately, risking all we had built.

I swallowed, a churning pit of despair forming in my stomach. I hated this predicament with every fibre of my being. It was tarnishing everything, undermining all I had worked so hard to establish. My only consolation was that if Cara did truly love me, maybe that love would anchor her to me, even if the child proved to be mine.

Taking her chin between my thumb and forefinger, I pressed a tender kiss to her mouth. I could sense her anticipation, awaiting my response to her sentiment. As I pulled back, I locked eyes with her, willing her to see the depth of my sincerity.

‘With you by my side, I have every reason to be.’

She inhaled sharply, her eyes shimmering with warmth as they melted into that affectionate smile. ‘Well, I don’t plan on going anywhere, so you can keep being wonderful.’

If only her words were an absolute. If only they would hold firm against the full truth.

I smiled back, praying it masked my fear. ‘Good,’ I murmured, then kissed her before she could say anything else to feed that painful hope.

14 | living in a dream

CARA

The scent of buttery scrambled eggs wafted toward me as I sauntered into the kitchen, my stomach rumbling in response. Standing by the hob, William was a sight to behold in just his white boxers. The play of light and shadow on his toned back, the muscles flexing ever so slightly as he stirred the pan, was even more enticing than the dish he was preparing.

Approaching quietly, I noticed the golden-brown crust of two croissants warming in the oven and the clock overhead reading just past eight. Gently, I wrapped my arms around William’s waist, pressing my face against the warmth of his back. I sensed a momentary stillness, the briefest pause of surprise, before he looked over his shoulder, his eyes crinkling with affection.

‘Good morning,’ he said, bending to kiss my forehead.

‘Mmm, morning,’ I murmured into his skin, inhaling the heady scent of his natural odour. ‘It smells amazing.’

‘It’ll be ready in about five,’ he said, gracefully extricating himself from my embrace. As he reached for two small, crystal-clear cups, he shot me a glance, pointing to the capsule dispenser next to the Nespresso machine. ‘What colour would you like?’

‘Purple.’

The corner of his mouth curled up in an amused smile. ‘Should’ve known. That’s my go-to as well.’ He shook his head, his smile widening. It seemed our similar tastes didn’t surprise him one bit.

‘Is it?’

He chuckled. ‘At this rate, I might as well just trust my gut rather than ask.’

‘Well, from what I’ve seen, your instincts are usually spot on,’ I replied, grinning.

As he initiated the coffee machine, I asked, ‘Need a hand with anything?’

He shrugged. ‘If you’d like, you could set the table.’

Nodding, I moved toward the island and lightly tapped my knee against the middle drawer, which was fitted with a touch-sensitive mechanism. It glided open, revealing the plates. Taking out a pair, I proceeded to the drawer just above for cutlery. As I set the table, I occasionally stole affectionate glances at William, my contented smile unwavering.

The memory of last night swirled in my mind. It had been… transcendent, elevating intimacy to an uncharted level. Until last night, the subtle nuance between having sex and making love had eluded me. But William, with each tender touch and adoring gaze, had delicately unveiled the depth and beauty of this distinction. All my thoughts just vanished; I was totally immersed in the feeling, in the connection I felt with him, and in the ecstasy that washed over me – a kind of exhilarating joy that eclipsed everything else.

As I finished setting the table, I hopped onto a stool, propped my head in my palms, and just stared at him. Flashing images of last night flooded my mind – his naked body, a faint layer of sweat glistening on his powerful chest as he made sweet, exquisite love to me. My chest tingled at the thought of it – he had made love to me. He had even said it himself: ‘I feel that way every time I get to make love to you, Cara.’

Maybe I was reading too much into it – maybe he had only phrased it that way to avoid sounding crude. But the words had struck a chord with me, resonating in my heart. They had felt so sincere, and so much like an echo of my own experience.

Yet, despite how heartfelt his words had seemed, I couldn’t shake the doubt that had begun to creep into my mind. His behaviour had been so unpredictable lately, swinging between affectionate and distant. It was as if he was a different person at times, making it hard to know where I truly stood. Sometimes, I couldn’t help but worry that his feelings for me might be fading, leaving me more vulnerable than ever, because mine were only growing stronger with each passing day.

But last night felt different. I felt we had truly connected, not just physically. His touch had been tender, his words adoring and reassuring. I wanted to believe that the man who held me so lovingly last night was the real him, not the aloof stranger he occasionally turned into.

The timer on the oven jolted me from my thoughts. William turned from the hob and walked over to take out the croissants. My eyes followed his every move, noting the care he put into preparing breakfast, as if I were a guest of great importance. Surely he wouldn’t go to such lengths if he was losing interest in me, would he?

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