Calling Me Home (11 page)

I loved him too much to deny him the future he wanted.

Luke

“I need to talk to you,” Ashleigh said, hovering at the door to the living area.

Why did women always want to have a conversation when rugby was on? I reached for her to pull her onto my knee.

“I’m serious. Can we talk?” Her voice was wobbly. I glanced at her face to see if I could read what was going through her head.

“Can I just watch this conversion?” We were neck and neck with the All Blacks.

Ashleigh forced a smile, pushed off my lap and headed back into the bedroom, where she’d been most of the morning. Shit. I muted the TV and followed her. I found her sitting on the bed, her knees pulled to her chest, her eyes fixed to the floor. “I don’t think we’re going to work out.”

I laughed. “Is my rugby watching too much to bear?” I sat down next to her. She moved away from me.

“I’m serious. I think I’m going to move out. The tenant hasn’t moved into my place yet. I don’t think we’re going to work.” She stood.

Blood crashed against my ears. Was I hearing things? Was she trying to end things? “What the fuck? Are you serious? What happened?” I stood up and tried to get her to look at me, but she kept moving out of the way.

“Nothing happened. I think this is best.”

A suitcase was open on the bed, and she’d started to put clothes in it. What the fuck was going on? She’d been asleep last night when I got in, and she’d been a bit quiet today. What could have happened? My heart was beating so hard my entire body pulsed. The thought of being without her, even for a night, was too much.

“Are you mad I had to work late? Or that I’m watching rugby?”

She shook her head. “No, of course not.”

“But you love me. Why do you want to go? Ashleigh, please talk to me.”

“I just need to give us both some time.”

What the fuck did that mean? How could she possibly be changing her mind, now? Fury ran up my spine. I grabbed the suitcase off the bed and emptied her clothes onto the floor.

“Luke!”

“No, Ashleigh. You’re not going anywhere. That’s the deal. You and me, we’re together. We don’t leave each other. I don’t need time, but if you do, then you need to tell me why. I deserve that much.” My frustration made my voice louder than it should have been. I never wanted to shout at her, but she wasn’t talking to me.

She collapsed back on the bed, hands covering her face.

I took a deep breath. “Have you changed your mind about us?” I asked, lying beside her on the bed, trying to pry her hands away so she’d look at me. Maybe that way I’d be able to tell what the matter was. This had come so out of left field.

“I don’t know.”

A sharp stabbing pushed into my gut. She’d changed her mind about us? How was that possible?

“I think maybe we want different things.”

I stopped trying to move her hands and rolled to my back next to her. I’d been pushing too hard. Even though I’d not proposed, she must have felt pressured. I should have been more patient. Let her take the lead more. But I’d awakened from an Ashleigh coma. I wanted to get on with things. I’d been a fool to think I could hide it.

“I’m sorry if I’ve been too much. I just love you a crazy amount, and I don’t know how to cover it up.”

“What?” she asked.

“I should have tried to hold back more—and I shouldn’t have pressured you to move in.”

“That’s not what I meant,” she replied.

“Then what? Is it my job?” I didn’t understand what was happening. “Are you worried about what my becoming partner will do to us?”

She sat bolt upright. Was that it? She thought I’d spend too much time at work and wouldn’t have enough time for her? She clasped her hands over her mouth and fled into the bathroom. I hated seeing her so upset. I wanted to comfort her, reassure her that if that was the problem, I would make time for her. I found her hunched over the toilet.

“Jesus, are you okay? Are you sick?”

On cue, she began to retch. Fuck. I stood beside her and gathered her hair out of her way as she clung to the porcelain and her whole body heaved.

“What have you eaten? I feel fine after that omelet.” Of course, she couldn’t speak—she was too busy throwing up. I began to rub her back. Maybe she was sick, like terminally ill or something, and was running away so I didn’t have to take care of her. She was so selfless; it was the kind of thing she’d do.

“Ashleigh. Are you sick? Is there something wrong? Like seriously wrong? Is that why you want to leave?”

She reached for some toilet paper and wiped her mouth.

“Ashleigh, you’re scaring me.”

“No, Luke, it’s nothing like that . . .” She began to retch again.

Given that she was vomiting like the exorcist, she seemed remarkably calm.

“You’re not . . .” I didn’t finish my sentence. The words hung in the air between us. She wasn’t saying anything, and neither was I.

Jesus, she was pregnant? Was I going to be a father? How fucking terrifying. And how amazingly wonderful. I tried not to grin as Ashleigh continued retching, her breathing labored.

But then why did she want to leave me? Did she not want it? Was it all too much too soon for her? I wanted this baby—a family—with her. Surely I could convince her it would all be okay.

I grabbed a clip from the sink and piled her hair into it as best I could. I knelt down beside her and continued to rub her back.

I was going to be a father. We were going to be parents. This was perfect. Our kids would be the same age as Haven and Jake’s. There was nothing to be upset about.

I wanted to ask her a million questions, but she wasn’t in a position to answer any of them.

Eventually the heaving slowed, and one-handed, so my hand didn’t leave her back, I managed to fill a glass with water.

“Here, drink this,” I said softly, sitting back down. “Small sips.”

She took the glass from me. “I feel disgusting.”

Silently, she stood and washed her face and cleaned her teeth. My eyes didn’t leave her for a second.

“Well, you look beautiful.” I looked at her. I wanted her to understand that I knew without actually saying so. “You’re glowing.”

“I’m sorry. It wasn’t deliberate, and I know you don’t want—you don’t have to be involved.”

I pulled her onto my lap. “What on earth do you have to be sorry for?”

“I must have messed up my pills or something. I just . . .”

“You’re unhappy?” The thought that she didn’t want this baby, our baby, made my heart twist. She would make an awesome mother.

“I . . . I . . . I’m sorry, but no, I’m not.”

“Why do you keep apologizing? Ashleigh, if—”

“I can do this on my own though, Luke. I don’t expect you to—” She started to cry. I hated to see her so upset.

“Why on earth . . . Don’t you love me? I don’t understand. You’re pregnant; we’re pregnant.”

“I know that it’s not what you want. I didn’t try and trap you, I can’t have you think that, but I can’t get rid of this baby.”

“Get rid? What the—” I got to my feet, pulled Ashleigh into my arms and carried her back into our bedroom. “You’re making no sense. Why would I think you tried to trap me?”

“Because you don’t want to get married and—”

Things were starting to come into focus. She thought because I hadn’t wanted to marry Emma that I didn’t want to get married at all.

“I didn’t want to marry Emma.”

“I know. And I respect that. It’s always been clear—you’ve not been ambiguous about anything.”

She watched me as I went back into the bathroom, opened the cupboard and reached between the towels to find her ring. Maybe taking positive action would help clarify my feelings.

“I don’t expect anything from you. I can do this on my own. You don’t even need to pay—”

“Stop,” I said as I lay down beside her, placing the blue velvet box between us. She followed my gaze until her eyes found the box.

She glanced at my face, then down again.

“What? How did you know? I’ve not even told Haven—”

“Do you want to see?”

She took a sharp breath. “I don’t understand; if you just found—”

I snapped the box open.

Her eyes widened. “It’s beautiful.”

“Not as beautiful as you, but yes, it is. Ashleigh Franklin, will you marry me?”

She began to smile but then something shifted and tears started to fall, and she covered her face with her hands.

“Are you proposing to make me happy and because I’m pregnant? Because, if you are, one day you’ll hate me if I say yes to you now.”

She thought I didn’t want a life with her and our kids? Those hormones were raging already.

“I found out that you were pregnant about twenty minutes ago when you started vomiting. We’ll talk about that another time. I don’t like us to have secrets from each other. I don’t want to marry you just because you’re pregnant. I just want to marry you. I’ve wanted you to be my wife since I kissed you, maybe even before then.” I tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and trailed my thumb across her lips. I couldn’t stop touching her, not for a second. “I’ve been terrified to propose because you’re so concerned that we’re moving too fast. I’m not. I’d marry you tomorrow if it was up to me. Don’t you get it? I don’t want to waste a second now we’re together. I want to have enough kids with you that we can have our own family rugby team.” I couldn’t believe I was going to be a father. We were going to be awesome parents. “I want the whole thing with you. I told you—you’ve changed who I am for the better. I want forever with you. You don’t get to leave me. Not now, not ever.”

She blinked, long, slow blinks, a question forming. “But . . . you never wanted—”

“I’ve never wanted to get married before you, you’re right. You just don’t get how you make it all different for me, do you? I’ve never wanted it before because it wasn’t with you. You’re the person that makes me want all this stuff.”

She reached up and pressed her palm against my cheek.

“When did you buy it?”

“I don’t know. A few weeks ago.”

“And you’ve not asked me yet because . . .”

“Because I knew how freaked out you were about me wanting to move in together so quickly. I thought if I asked you to be my wife, you might have a stroke. I wanted to go at your pace. I was trying to be patient.”

“I see.”

“What do you see?” She shrugged. “You’re going to leave me hanging?” I asked.

The corners of her mouth twitched. “I’ve messed everything up, haven’t I?” And then she frowned.

“Never.” This wasn’t what I’d planned; I’d wanted this to be a big moment. But I guess it was in other ways.

“Ashleigh Franklin, will you be my wife?” I pulled the ring out of the box and took her hand.

“It’s too beautiful.”

“Do you like it? I saw it and then couldn’t imagine you in anything else.”

“I love it. It’s more me than I could ever have imagined.”

“That’s because you just don’t know how beautiful you are.”

Ashleigh

I wasn’t sure if it was the hormones making my head fuzzy, or the gigantic sapphire Luke slipped onto my left ring finger. It fit perfectly. Not thirty minutes ago, I’d been about to move back to my flat, prepared to be a single mother. Now the love of my life had proposed. My heart was too big for my chest. Was it possible to be this happy?

Things had changed, but I had failed to realize the extent of the shift. He had bought a ring for me—wanted to be my husband—and had barely missed a beat when he’d realized I was pregnant. In fact, he was more excited that I was. He was a different Luke in those moments. As much as I thought I’d got to a place where I could trust his feelings for me, I’d never really understood how deep they went . . . until now.

“Hey,” he said, tipping my chin up toward him.

“Yes, I’ll marry you, Luke.”

“I’m very pleased to hear it.”

He pressed his lips against mine, and I threaded my hands into his hair. We were going to be together as I’d always wanted. He pulled back and looked down between us. “How long have you known?” He pushed up my top, and his fingers fumbled at the zip on my jeans. I lay on my back as he exposed my belly and stared at it as if he was imagining what grew inside.