Page 47 of Claiming His Baby At The Altar

‘I’ll be back Saturday. Friday if I can.’

‘Call me when you get there so I know you’ve arrived safely?’

He stared at her with the strangest expression on his face before bowing his head. ‘Of course.’

Flora concentrated very hard on not crying when he closed the door softly behind him.

The days without Alejandro dragged by.

Flora had thought herself accustomed to him being away so much but, having had him to herself for a week and with the closeness and intimacy that had developed between them in that time, she felt his absence in Athens starkly.

If not for Benjamin, she feared she would have cracked and begged him on one of their evening calls—he now called every night—to let her fly out to him, which would have been the worst thing she could have done and just reeked of desperation and exposed herself to him far more than their lovemaking had done.

But she did have her bundle of joy and it was impossible to mope with Benjamin’s happy little smiling face loving her and needing her. Other than Hangover Sunday, when Flora finally managed to drag herself out of bed at ten a.m., poor Sinead hadn’t had much to do apart from flirt with Mateo.

Flora also thought she had found a friend in Camila. The glamourous Spanish lady invited herself over for lunch and turned up with her toddler, an adorable little girl called Ava whose curly golden hair Benjamin kept trying to grab. He seemed smitten.

Camila was great fun and wildly indiscreet, and when she left, she extracted a promise from Flora to join her and some other ‘girls’ on a night out soon.

It was the evenings she most missed Alejandro. Benjamin filled her days but he was always asleep by seven, which left hours to fill before she could find sleep of her own. She bought some embroidery supplies but inspiration and creativity had still deserted her. She tried to read a book but her attention span was decimated.

Thursday evening, the same day Camila had come for lunch, she gave up trying to do anything that involved concentration and, after putting Sinead in charge should Benjamin wake up, headed to the roof terrace.

The roof terrace was something she’d only had a curious look at before. Enclosed by a waist-height white wall, it had a seating area and a dining area and a fully stocked bar, but it was the L-shaped swimming pool she’d come up here for.

Making sure her phone’s volume was high, so she’d hear it when Alejandro called, she placed it on her towel then lowered herself into the underlit water. It felt deliciously cool in contrast to the humid heat of the evening, and she kept her head above water and swam a couple of lengths of the longest part, then hugged the edge as she trod water and gazed out at the spectacular view of Barcelona by night. The city’s skyscape, somehow surrounding her but feeling as if it was far away too, was a golden silhouette. Shining above it all this moonless night were so many stars it made her feel dizzy to imagine their numbers.

It made her feel dizzy, too, to remember how her mouth had run away with her at Camila and Juan’s party. She’d forgotten all about it until long after Alejandro had flown to Athens and her cheeks had gone so red she could have used them as handwarmers.

Her refusal to partake in more than a small glass of wine before that night had been down to Alejandro. And her brother. Eavesdropping on their drunk talk about conquests and the wild things the girls at parties had done had been a more effective alcohol deterrent than any lecture by an adult. Until Saturday, she’d never been drunk. The thought of being picked apart and rated had revolted her.

So why had she listened in; hidden behind doors like a miniature spy, hardly daring to breathe for fear of being discovered? More than once Alejandro had strolled past her hiding space without noticing her.

Camila’s indiscretions that day had been mostly about Justin. Alejandro had been mentioned too but she’d had a feeling Camila had made a conscious effort not to speak of his dalliances with other women to her. Justin had been the focus of her talk, making Flora wonder if she still hankered after him.

All Camila’s indiscretions had made Flora rethink the drunk conversations she’d avidly eavesdropped on.

Justin had been the one to do all the rating, she remembered. Alejandro had laughed along with it, but Justin had always been the instigator of those conversations.

He’d been trying to impress him, she realised.

And she realised too that it had been easier on her heart to blame his behaviour on his Spanish friend rather than confront the brother who’d always adored and looked out for her for being a sexist pig.

Alejandro had been wild too but he’d never boasted about it. He’d never strung women along or messed them around or made promises he wouldn’t keep. She supposed he’d never needed to.

Or maybe he was just a damn sight more respectful than she’d given him credit for.

She’d childishly hated him for stealing Justin from her and then she’d seen him naked and hated him even more for the terrifying feelings his nakedness had awoken in her.

He’d deserved none of her misplaced hate. He’d been a red-blooded young man playing the field, partying and enjoying his life. He couldn’t help that he was drop-dead gorgeous, filthy rich, and that women salivated over him.

She rested her chin on her hands with a sad sigh.

She missed him. That was the truth. Even when the only emotion she’d dared allow herself to admit to feeling for him had been loathing, his presence had always energised her. The world always felt a little flatter without him in it.

It felt a lot flatter now.

‘There you are.’

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