Page 34 of The Secret Sanchez Heir
‘Did you honestly think that I was on the phone to another woman? Planning a rendezvous with her—whilst sleeping with you? On the one hand, I’m flattered that you think my energy levels are through the roof, but on the other hand I’m insulted that you would even think that I might be capable of what you have accused me of.’
‘I haven’t accused you of anything but there’s no room for those sorts of silences between us. If you really feel that there’s no need for you to ever explain your actions, or tell me where you’ve been if I ask, then say so right now and I will pack my bags and leave this apartment in the morning. I’ll move into the cottage with Sam, and I will never, ever try and limit your contact with him, but there will never be anything more between us. You’ll be free to do whatever you like, without anyone questioning you. In essence, you would be free to remain a bachelor and behave like one—but if we’re to be together then, as far as I’m concerned, you might not be married but you’re no longer a bachelor.’
Just like that, Leandro knew that the rules of the game had changed and, whilst instinct was telling him to make a stand—a justified stand, because the only rules he had ever played to had been his own—there was a third party involved.
Was he prepared to risk his relationship with his son? Because, say what she might at this point in time, if he chose to turn his back on her now, when she had effectively told him that she was prepared to give it another go, his rejection would fester inside her, and everyone knew that old saying about a woman scorned.
And the world was full of men ready and willing to try it on with her, even if she came with a child. She had the sort of looks that guaranteed that she wouldn’t be left on the shelf for longer than five seconds. Everything in him demanded Abigail remain his.
‘If you insist on terms and conditions,’ Leandro drawled, ‘then I have a couple of my own.’
‘You still haven’t answered what I asked.’
‘I will do my utmost...’ he flushed darkly and she met his accompanying glare with serenity ‘...to keep you in the loop and, if you’re curious about any of my activities—which I assure you will be above board, whatever you might think—then I will satisfy your curiosity with the appropriate explanations.’
‘Okay.’ She paused and registered the heady relief flooding her because the past days had been hellish and she knew, seeing him tonight, that she just wanted him back whether it made sense or not. ‘What are your terms and conditions?’
‘You don’t turn your back on me and play the no sex card every time you want to make a point. I understand that you were hurt, but don’t think you can try to turn me into a person I will never be and then, if you think your efforts are failing, decide to withdraw sex.’
A person who will never be in love with me, Abigail thought bravely, because if you were in love with me, compromising would come as second nature. It wouldn’t feel like a great, big sacrifice.
It proved just how committed he was to being a good father for Sam but it still hurt her.
‘You stop acting as though it’s torture to take and spend the money I’ve been putting into your account.’
‘I do spend it. Some of it.’
‘You buy things for Sam and food for the house. Occasionally you might treat yourself to something cheap and cheerful. I find that insulting.’
‘How?’ Abigail gasped. ‘How can it be insulting if I don’t use your money?’
‘Take what is given in the right spirit, in the spirit in which it has been given,’ Leandro told her bluntly. ‘I see you stubbornly refusing what I can give you and it makes me think that it’s your way of telling me that your pride is greater than your desire to adapt. I have a certain lifestyle and it makes sense for you to adapt to it.’
‘I suppose you have a point.’
‘I know I do. Furthermore, we set a time limit to this exercise in self-discovery.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Here’s what I mean.’ Leandro didn’t beat about the bush. ‘I proposed to you because it was the preferred solution. Our son would benefit from having us both there, at hand, rather than being bounced around between us. You turned me down, and I appreciate that the end result was for you to establish whether we could be a functioning proposition, but there has to be a time limit to this probationary period after which we sit down and decide whether we tie the knot and make this permanent, or else walk away, knowing that we gave it our best shot.’
Never had she seen more clearly how little love featured in his life plan that was all set to include her. Effectively he was telling her that theirs was an arrangement with benefits, and if, at the end of the day, the arrangement wasn’t working, they’d wash their hands of it and move on.
‘How do you set a time limit on something like that?’ she asked jerkily and Leandro shrugged.
‘Good question. It’s impossible because there can never been any guarantee that we have reached a point of knowing, for sure, that we are compatible on a long-term basis, which is why I propose we give it three months, at the end of which we decide.’
‘Good idea,’ she agreed painfully. ‘Three months and then, if things haven’t worked out, we can go our separate ways and get on with our lives.’ She paused and digested this, knowing that it was the best solution and would stop her from drifting hopelessly on uncertain waters, becoming more and more incapable of taking a stand, hanging on to see whether he would one day tell her that he loved her.
* * *
Moving out to the cottage felt like a final cutting of ties with life in London. The frantic noise and constant buzz that had been the backdrop of her life for so long gave way to the sounds of nature. Their possessions had been taken the day before by a professional removal company, including furniture from both the apartment and Greyling.
‘Cherry pick whatever you want.’ Leandro had shrugged. ‘And bear in mind that everything will probably be replaced at some point because I can’t imagine you’ll want to furnish the place in things you haven’t personally chosen.’
Abigail could have told him that being fussy was not a trait she was acquainted with. But she didn’t make a song and dance about being parsimonious and being the sort of girl who didn’t need to throw money around. She had taken on board what he had said to her and had realised that her continual refusal to accept his lavish generosity was indeed something he found both bewildering and vaguely offensive.
For the first time, she shopped for herself and really enjoyed it.
