Miracle Christmas. Shirley Jump

who was rarely around. I will not be a distant relation in my child’s life.’

      Rilla heard the zeal in his voice and wanted to reach out and touch him as the shadows of his childhood haunted his gaze. She knew so little about his formative years.

      ‘I want to be part of my baby’s life right from the start. See it grow inside you, every day. See every change in your body, feel every kick, be there when you go into labour. And I want to live with him or her, not down the road or around the corner. Be in its life every day. I imagine you do as well.’

      ‘Of course,’ she agreed quickly.

      ‘Good, then this is the perfect situation for both of us. This way we get to give the baby a stable home. Two parents, living together under the same roof, that love him or her unconditionally.’

      ‘Even if they don’t love each other?’

      How could she do as he was suggesting? Live under the same roof as Luca? Playing happy families when the reality would be very different? How could she live a lie?

      Luca stopped pacing. ‘Love? After us, I swore to myself I’d never leave my heart open for that kind of hurt again, and I meant it. It’d be especially foolish to repeat past mistakes.’

      Rilla tried not to flinch but his words did make sense. What they’d had was over. Dead. She wouldn’t describe either of them as gluttons for punishment.

      ‘This is about our baby, Rilla. Just the baby.’

      ‘You could commit to a loveless union? A marriage that’s in name only? A farce?’

      She made it sound so cold. So calculated. Yet it had all sounded perfectly reasonable in his head last night. Sure, he’d expected her to resist, but not over the issue of love. He wasn’t sure what that meant.

      ‘Of course. For my child, of course. Why? Are you telling me you still have feelings for me?’

      Feelings for him? Not unless he counted the growing urge to slap his face. ‘I’d be especially foolish to do that again,’ she said mimicking him.

      Touché. ‘Look, Rilla,’ he said, sitting on the bed and picking up her hands. They felt cold and he rubbed them absently. ‘The whole love thing didn’t work so well for us first time around. Maybe this is a much better way to run a marriage.’

      Rilla looked into his earnest eyes. Maybe he was right. ‘I don’t know, Luca.’

      He could see she was wavering and he scrambled his thoughts together to close the deal. Something inside him told him they could make it work. Nagged at him to make it happen.

      ‘I do. I know we can make a success of this. We can redefine what a marriage is, Rilla. We’ve got months before the baby is born. Let’s take the time to get to know each other.’

      Rilla almost blushed, thinking about how well he knew her. She pulled her hands from his. ‘I think you know me, pretty well, Luca.’

      She was right. Last time there probably hadn’t been one thing he hadn’t known about her body. He’d known intimately the weight of her breasts in his palms, how vocal she was when an orgasm took hold of her body and exactly what to do to make her moan, to make her gasp and to make her beg.

      But that wasn’t what he’d meant. ‘No. Let’s not do what we did last time. Depend on a physical relationship to get us through. Let’s spend the next eight months talking. Just talking.’

      Rilla liked the sound of it. It would be good really getting to know the man she’d married in such a rush seven years ago. What made him tick. What made him the man he was today. What had happened in his childhood to make him so adamant that he wanted to be part of his child’s life that he’d float reconciliation in an all-but-dead marriage.

      ‘We might even become friends,’ Luca continued. ‘Like in the old days. When we first met. Do you remember that?’

      How could she not, especially with him sitting this close, his muscular thigh brushing her leg? The banter. The flirting. The tingle of anticipation. Surely he hadn’t forgotten they’d moved from friends to lovers pretty quickly? ‘You used to laugh, Luca,’ she said softly. ‘You used to laugh a lot.’

      Luca took in her beautiful face, the urge to kiss the beauty spot at the corner of her mouth almost overwhelming. He lifted his hand and brushed his thumb over it instead. ‘Hasn’t been a whole lot to laugh about the last seven years.’

      Rilla’s head spun. His proximity made it hard to think straight at all. She closed her eyes as the gentle brush of his finger tingled through her entire body. She could feel her nipples tighten.

      She opened her eyes slowly and stared at his perfect mouth and white teeth. ‘What about sex?’

      Luca’s thumb stopped its impulsive caress and he dropped his hand back into his lap. He could see the tight points of her nipples outlined in his T-shirt and was pleased he’d donned a shirt to cover the ruckus that was currently going on in his boxers.

      He swallowed. ‘What about it?’

      ‘Well, would there be …? Would you …? Would there be … conjugal privileges?’

      Luca grinned at the frown that appeared between her eyes as she’d sought the right phrase. ‘I think we need to keep this strictly platonic,’ he said, sobering. ‘Separate bedrooms. We’ve done the sex thing before and look where that got us. It’ll just ruin our focus.’

      Rilla couldn’t believe how matter-of-fact, how analytical he sounded. ‘Do you seriously think we can live under the same roof and not succumb to this crazy thing that’s always been between us? Our relationship may be over but I think we’ve proved more than adequately that we’re still sexually attracted to each other.’

      Luca beat back the images from their passionate reunion. ‘I think it would be a mistake,’ he said stiffly. ‘Do you remember what happened the last time we had sex when you were pregnant? I’m not repeating that mistake.’

      A nerve jumped at the angle of Luca’s jaw. Rilla could see it through the heavy overnight stubble. His voice brooked no argument. ‘It wasn’t that, Luca. I didn’t miscarry because of that.’

      Rationally, Luca knew that. He was a doctor. But he’d second-guessed everything ad nauseam from that terrible time and he wasn’t prepared to risk anything this time round. ‘I’m not taking any chances,’ he said firmly, looking her straight in the eye.

      How could he be so certain? Oh, sure, she knew all about his stubborn Latin male streak, but their still seething sexual attraction seemed to have a life of its own. Eight months of living under the same roof as Luca, married to all intents and purposes, and he really thought it could be platonic?

      ‘Well, what do you think?’ Luca probed after she’d been silent for a few moments.

      What did she think? This whole plan was stark, raving crazy. That’s what she thought. ‘I think going into marriage again, even for something as noble as our child when we still have so much baggage and without love, is doomed to failure.’

      Rilla wasn’t sure if it was the emotionless topic or the baby but she suddenly felt violently ill. She passed her mug to Luca and bolted from the bed. She made it to the toilet just in time, her measly amount of tea and toast ejected from her stomach.

      After there was nothing left to bring up Rilla sat on the bathroom floor, feeling emptier than her stomach. Luca hadn’t joined her and the chill of the tiles seeped into her body. Into her bones. She shivered, pulling her knees up, dragging Luca’s shirt down over them, hoping her body warmth would ward off the sudden bleakness.

      She was pregnant with a much longed-for baby. It should be the happiest time of her life. But she was sick and miserable. Utterly miserable. The urge to cry welled up inside her and Rilla roused herself, refusing to sink into the abyss of self-pity again.

      Feeling sorry for herself would not take the nausea