The Unwanted Wife (Unwanted #1)(40)
Author: Natasha Anders

“What happened after that?” He seemed riveted even though the doctor was stepping away from the table.
“I broke my arm and I’ve disliked cats since that day,” she confessed sheepishly. He chuckled before unexpectedly leaning over her and dropping a quick kiss on her forehead. “I don’t know why I just told you that story… you just looked in need of distraction.”
“And how,” he acknowledged shakily. “I’m still feeling a little queasy after seeing that needle…” he swallowed and paled again. “I don’t know how you could do that without anaesthetic?”
The doctor had offered her a shot to numb the area but one huge needle was bad enough, Theresa hadn’t been enamoured with the thought of having to deal with two.
“It was a little uncomfortable,” she admitted as the nurse helped her sit up. “But not too bad.”
After dressing she and Sandro anxiously faced her obstetrician across the wide expanse of his desk.
“Right… that went very well, Mr and Mrs De Lucci…” Doctor Shelbourne beamed over his desk at them. “Both you and your baby came through it with flying colours. Right… so no heavy lifting, no sex and no flying for the next couple of days. Try to relax and not overtax yourself. You may experience some cramping for a day or two, that’s normal… but if the cramping carries on for too long or is too severe, if it’s accompanied by spotting or bleeding, come in immediately.” Both Sandro and Theresa paled at that dire warning and Theresa blindly and unthinkingly sought out his hand with hers.
“We should have your results in a couple of weeks,” the older man continued cheerfully. “We’ll contact you when they arrive.”
“Do you think I’m at risk for another miscarriage?” Theresa suddenly asked and the doctor looked surprised by her question.
“Not at all…” he shook his head vehemently.
“But the last time…” she began shakily.
“…was just one of those tragic things that sometimes happen in life. You’re healthy, your baby looks healthy, there’s no reason you shouldn’t carry to term and deliver a perfect baby. Now onto happier topics; would you like to know your baby’s sex?”
“You could tell?” Theresa asked with a smile.
“The image was as clear as a bell today,” he nodded indulgently.
“No,” Sandro suddenly shook his head. “I’d rather not know.”
“But Sandro…” she turned to him in surprise but he refused to meet her eyes. “Why don’t you want to know?”
“It makes no difference…” nothing he could have said would have hurt her more and she immediately retreated back behind her shell, withdrawing her hand from his. Of course it didn’t make a difference, if it was a boy he would leave without getting to know the child and if it was a girl he would be stuck in his unwanted marriage for even longer. He groaned when he saw her expression and immediately grabbed up her hand again. “I really didn’t mean it the way you obviously think I did, Theresa.”
“It’s okay,” she informed the doctor, who looked heartily uncomfortable to be witnessing their dispute. “I don’t have to know.” Not when she was one hundred per cent certain that it was a boy anyway. The doctor nodded and cleared his throat.
“Very well then, my lips are sealed,” he nodded, trying to maintain his jovial manner, even though he was still uncomfortable. Sandro said nothing, keeping his eyes on Theresa’s determinedly averted face. The doctor added a few more of his usual cautions that she not overtax herself before he dismissed them with a hearty goodbye.
“Just let me explain,” Sandro said the moment they were outside the clinic. It was raining and Theresa hurriedly raised the hood of her coat over her head before scurrying for her car. He followed her even though she was still quite obviously ignoring him and keeping her back to him. She fumbled for her car keys in her large bag and he groaned in frustration before dropping his hands onto her narrow shoulders to turn her around. Her face was wet and he sighed deeply as he wiped at the moisture, which could have been tears or rain.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, lowering his head so that she could hear him over the clamour of cars driving by and the freezing rain. “Theresa, that didn’t come out right. It didn’t mean what you thought it did.”
“What does it matter what I think?” She finally asked bitterly.
“It matters,” his large hands cupped her face and his forehead lowered to hers. “It matters very much, Theresa.”
“No,” she shook her head slightly. “It doesn’t.” She put her hands to his broad chest wanting to push him away but the rain had soaked through his white shirt plastering it to his skin and turning it so transparent that he may as well have been naked, so instead of pushing her hands stroked and petted and he moaned hungrily before touching his lips to hers. Theresa didn’t even pretend to fight, she simply melted into him and wrapped her arms around him, digging her fingers into his back as she arched up against him and opened her mouth to his hot, demanding tongue. His hands were wrapped in the wet hair and he tugged her head back to gain better access to her mouth as his tongue hungrily probed at hers, leaving not one inch of her mouth unexplored. The sound of a car horn close by brought them to their senses and they jumped apart guiltily both flushed and breathing rapidly, both shaking uncontrollably. Theresa stared up into Sandro’s dazed eyes and blinked at the vulnerability that she thought she saw there.