Page 30 of The Baby Behind Their Marriage Merger

She looked away and shook her head. ‘That’s not completely fair. He didn’t sign up for a ready-made family and he did try, sort of, but they frustrated him. He“tried”for about three weeks—he kept telling me he’d do better—but then decided he couldn’t.’

‘I’m sorry,’ he said, resting his forearms on the table and shaking his head. ‘It’s a never-ending source of amazement to me that we are constantly bombarded with the news of relationships breaking up—this person had an affair, and that person wants out. Two out of three marriages end in divorce but, like lemmings, humans still keep stepping into the quagmire of marriage and are surprised when it doesn’t work out. I don’t get it.’

His words reminded her of a literary quote. ‘Didn’t Oscar Wilde say something about marriage being a dull meal with dessert served at the beginning?’ She pulled a face. ‘This is a pretty cynical conversation for two people who’ve just tied the knot.’

The corners of his mouth lifted in a smile. ‘Ah, but the difference with us is that we have clearly defined expectations of what we want to achieve from our union and a time frame. A fling, with an option to carry on sleeping together when we get back to Cape Town. At most, eighteen months married. We’re doing it right, Addi.’

Maybe, Addi thought as she raised her glass to clink it against his beer bottle in a silent toast. But there was still the niggling thought that they could do it better. But life, as she knew, often threw curve balls when you least expected it to.

Jude lay beside Addi, watching her sleep. Beyond her, he could see the dark sea lit by the beam of light coming from a moon mostly hidden behind a thin layer of cloud. The sound of the sea drowned out Addi’s soft breaths. He placed a hand on her hip, marvelling at how big his hand looked on her slight body.

It had been a very strange day, and one he was still coming to terms with. While he’d never expected to tell Addi about Marina, he was glad he had. And relieved that she hadn’t been anything but empathetic and supportive and hadn’t questioned why he’d taken so long to come to the same conclusion about his ex that his grandfather had.

He hadn’t explained his need to believe in what he’d assumed he and Marina had had—a connection, a bond, trust—but knew she’d got it. His belief in, and loyalty to, Marina had been the catalyst for so much mistrust and grief in his life. His grandfather had thought him a fool for falling under the spell of a woman, an emotional idiot for not believing his PI’s evidence and he’d never let him forget it.

Bartholomew, not a fan of emotion, had second-guessed every decision Jude had made from then on and had never forgiven him for being human. And the story about how Jude had been conned hitting the papers via Jane had been confirmation that his mistrust had been warranted. Jude could, so many years later, still recall Bart’s disparaging comments shortly after he’d read the exposé, his mouth lifted in a sneer.

‘You’re emotional, and you will believe any pretty face with a sob story. Emotion is a weakness, son.

‘I don’t feel I can trust you with anything more than petty cash,’ Bartholomew went on to say. ‘You’ve made some stupid mistakes, ones I can’t look past or forgive. And now the whole world knows how stupid you were.’

His grandfather’s words, and his disdain, were still burned into Jude’s brain and made him writhe with embarrassment and want to run screaming down the beach.

It hadn’t occurred to Bart that Jude had been young when he’d fallen for Marina; that hadn’t counted. It hadn’t mattered that he’d gone on to graduate with a top-class degree or that he’d established a successful side business. Bartholomew had defined him by his mistakes, not his successes. He hadn’t wanted to appoint him CEO, but there’d been a Fisher at the helm for over eighty years and he wouldn’t let that tradition lapse. But, because he’d considered Jude to be a renegade—an outlier, hot-blooded and impulsive—he’d put those clauses in his will outlining the terms of his inheritance.

His grandfather had been determined not to trust him, to punish him for being less than perfect. But in a year, he’d finally be able to step out of his grandfather’s shadow and shed his influence once and for all. He’d gain full control of Fisher International, rid himself of the trustees and make the company his.

One year—all he had to do was to keep the news of his marriage, and the pregnancy, under wraps. He did not want to end up rehashing his past and risking another media embarrassment and a PR headache. In twelve months, he could look forward to a less complicated life.

Most importantly, he would finally be free to make his own decisions, free of Bart’s ghost. Free to be who and what he was.

He felt Addi roll over and he looked down into her lovely, sleepy eyes. She lifted her hand to touch his face. ‘Are you okay?’ she asked, her voice a little groggy. ‘It’s late. Why aren’t you asleep?’

He’d oh-so-casually suggested they have a fling, but it was feeling anything but casual now. And that was dangerous. He lifted his shoulder in a shrug. ‘Too much on my mind?’

She tucked her hands under the side of her face. ‘Thinking about Marina?’

He hadn’t been, actually—or not too much. ‘Not really.’

‘Good; she’s not worth your time.’

Jude stroked his hand over her hair and cupped his hand around her elegant neck. ‘Are we still good, Addi? Still on track?’

A small frown pulled her eyebrows together. ‘What do you mean?’

‘You won’t tell anyone, not even your sister, that we’re married, right?’

Irritation and hurt flickered in her eyes. ‘I said that I wouldn’t, Jude,’ she snapped.

He thought about explaining that he had a right to be mistrustful of people—Marina, Jane and his grandfather had screwed him over—but knew she wouldn’t appreciate the reminder. He just had to pray she’d stick to her word. The stakes were too high for either of them to mess up now. They just had to keep their mouths shut and all would be well.

Addi rolled over and put a healthy amount of distance between them. He could tell she was angry, that she hated his lack of faith in her—it vibrated off her in waves so strong he could almost see the shimmer in the air. He didn’t want to fight with her, not tonight. So he leaned over and placed a kiss on the spot where her neck met her shoulder, loving her scent.

‘Sorry,’ he murmured.

She didn’t turn over. ‘You need to trust someone at some point, Jude.’

She didn’t understand. And she wouldn’t unless he explained that she was asking for the impossible. He rested his forearm over his eyes and wondered where to start. His relationship with Jane was actually harder to talk about than Marina, possibly because he’d been older when it happened, and he should have known better.

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