Page 44 of Robert

“Thanks.” He accepted the drink and watched as she wandered over to sit in the rocker by the fireplace. “How have you been?”

“Fine. You?”

“Fine.” He hated that they were so civil. Hated that he had to stay away from her. Wanting to kiss her, taste her was burning a hole inside him. “You sounded anxious over the phone. Is something wrong?”

“I am so sorry.” She whispered. A frown touched his brow when he noticed her hands were gripped so tight, the knuckles were pronounced.

“What the hell is the matter?” Putting away his drink, he pulled a chair to sit in front of her.

“I don’t know how to say it.” She looked so shaken that he felt his heart quaking inside his chest.

“Just tell me.”

“I need a drink.” She started to get up when he took her hands and forced her to stay.

“You are scaring me. What is going on?”

Tears glittered in her eyes and had his grip tightening. “Are you ill? Is that what this is about?”

“No.” She shook her head. “We’re married.” She whispered.

He stared at her with a puzzled frown. “I know that.”

“No.” She laughed shakily. “It wasn’t a fake ceremony.” She explained to him what Michael had told her.

Robert did not move. He couldn’t. He had been wishing for a miracle, something he could hold onto that would have her staying with him and had been so miserable about the entire thing he had no idea what to do.

Hope, incredible, wonderful hope burst inside his chest and threatened to engulf him. Extricating his fingers from hers, he shoved to his feet and made his jerky way over to the window. He had to hide his expression, or she was going to know.

“Robert?”

“Hmm?”

Suddenly the bleak weather did not look so forlorn at all. On his way here, all he could think of was that she would be telling him that it was over.

“Please say something.”

“We’re married.”

“Yes.” She whispered. “And- and – we cannot even get a divorce, because I did not sign any papers.”

“A prenup.”

“Yes.” She bit her lip and wished he would turn around so she could see what he was thinking or feeling. “What are we going to do?”

“What do you want to do?” He was still facing away from her.

“It is not up to me. I involved you in this, this mess and I – Robert, if you could just bear with me for a year or so, perhaps we could have a quiet divorce…”

“Is that what you want?” He turned then, hazel eyes carefully blank.

“I think it’s the right thing to do.” She gazed at him pleadingly, wondering why he was not ranting and raving. “I am so sorry.”

“You already said that. I will have to contact my lawyers.”

She blanched. “They’re going to have a fit.”

“To say the least.” He murmured dryly. “We remain married.” He shrugged a shoulder as if his entire insides were not churning. “And see how it goes.”

---