“Fine thanks,” Lisa murmured, rubbing her hands over her stomach in an instinctively maternal gesture. “A little tired but I suppose that it’s to be expected when you’re lugging another human being around.” Sandro grinned, he actually grinned, at that and nodded.
“Indeed.”
“Rick, for God’s sake, stop hovering and sit down,” Lisa snapped up at her still-glowering husband. “I would like to finish watching this movie sometime in this year! We’re having lunch afterwards, Alessandro, I hope you don’t mind?”
“Of course not,” he said smoothly, leaning back and making Theresa feel incredibly claustrophobic as he crowded her with his large body. “What are we watching?” Lisa told him and Sandro did an admirable job of concealing his grimace. Lisa barely contained her own grin before hitting the play button. Rick rejoined her on the sofa, sending periodic glares over at Sandro, who kept his eyes glued on the screen and looked unfairly relaxed.
Lisa dropped her head onto her husband’s broad shoulder and resumed her occasional sniffling and Rick, unable to remain furious for long with his wife draped across him dragged Lisa close again and snuggled her up against him. His fingers interlaced with the hand she had resting on her stomach and Theresa felt like she was the only sane person in the room. Sandro was sprawled out beside her, his shoulders and thighs brushed against her every time he breathed, the other couple was snuggled together like a couple of lovebirds and she, Theresa, felt like she was losing her mind!
She got up abruptly and left the room, heading blindly toward the kitchen, where she stood in the middle of the room taking in great gasps of air. She should have known that he would follow her even there because when she turned back toward the kitchen door, there he was, watching her and a looking splendid in his own version of casual wear; a pair of faded blue jeans and a black dress shirt with the top button open to reveal the strong, masculine column of his neck.
“Why did you come here?” She asked on a whisper.
“I thought that we should spend some time together,” he said with a gentleness that Theresa instinctively mistrusted.
“But I told you… I don’t want to spend time with you,” she said in a soft, bewildered voice. “I don’t want to be anywhere near you!”
“Theresa…” he said, still in that same gentle voice, taking a cautious step into the room and Theresa backed up until she hit the fridge.
“The one place I had… the one place I could come and be myself,” she shook her head, her eyes were wide and shimmering with tears. “And you had to take that from me too…” the tears overflowed and she desperately tried to blot them from her cheeks with the hem of her t-shirt. He made a soft almost dismayed sound in his throat before moving so quickly that she barely had time to register it. One second he was still close to the kitchen entrance and the next he was right in front of her, sandwiching her between his body and the fridge. His large hands reached up to cup her face and his thumbs brushed roughly at the tears on her cheeks.
“Don’t,” his voice was low and gravelly and so thick that she could barely understand that one word. She raised her much smaller hands to his and tugged futilely at his hold, trying to get him to release her.
“I want to make things less difficult for us, Theresa…” he muttered uncomfortably, his face so close to hers that his breath washed over her skin and raised goose pimples all over her body.
“Why now?” She challenged the ludicrous statement angrily, trying to ignore the effect his closeness was having on her very receptive body. Her soft green eyes snapped up at his through her tears. “Is it because I’m threatening to leave this marriage without giving you your precious son, is that it?” She dropped her hands down to his hard, broad chest and tried to push him away. He wouldn’t budge.
“No,” was all he said. “That’s not it… because I know you won’t leave.”
“What makes you so sure of that?” She hissed and he was silent for a while before responding.
“The discussion we had yesterday,” he eventually, reluctantly, said and she went limp against him, all the fight leaving her abruptly.
“So, if you’re so sure I won’t leave, what’s this sudden need you have to spend your every waking moment with me?” She asked hollowly.
“We’re married for God’s sake… and we’re like strangers! I know nothing about you!”
“Of course you know nothing about me,” her voice was hoarse with the effort it took not to scream at him. “You’re the one who decided, even before we got married, that there was nothing worth knowing about me.”
“Well I’ve changed my mind,” he didn’t bother to deny her wild accusation, probably because it was true, instead dropping his hands down to her narrow shoulders to give her a little shake.
“Which once again begs the question of why… after eighteen months of marriage, why now?” His hands fell from her shoulders before he shrugged with an air of disinterest which belied his urgency of just seconds ago.
“Why not now? Now’s as good a time as any…” he was back to being remote and icy and Theresa shuddered involuntarily.
“It’s much too late, Sandro,” she whispered, wrapping her arms around her slender frame. “I may be trapped in this marriage but I want nothing to do with you! The very sight of you makes me sick to my stomach.”
“There’s a way out of this you know,” he finally murmured.