A Ring For The Greek's Baby. Melanie Milburne
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enough to crack a nut.
Loukas wondered what had happened to the girl who couldn’t wait to get married and have babies. Four kids and an Irish Retriever, if his memory served him correctly. Why then wasn’t she grasping at this chance to land herself a rich husband? Though he hadn’t taken her for a gold-digger. That was what had most appealed to him about her the day of the wedding. She had a guileless innocence about her. She reminded him of a friendly puppy who wanted to be loved by everyone.
But what was insulting about his proposal of marriage? He could think of hundreds, possibly thousands, of women who would jump at the chance of a proposal from him. The more he thought about it, the more he felt that marriage was the best option all round. It would give him the best chance of supporting her and the baby. It wasn’t as if it would have any of the toxic elements of his parents’ marriage. Emily and he were not in love with each other, so the marriage could be drawn up as a parenting contract. A formalised parenting contract that gave them the benefits of marriage without the emotional baggage of a normal relationship.
He would broach the topic again once she was feeling a little better, but this time he would lay out what was going to happen: a convenient mid-term marriage to parent their child. Perfect solution. ‘Do you need anything now? Some money to buy baby stuff or—’
‘No, I haven’t needed to buy anything yet...’ The colour drained out of her face again and she wobbled on her feet as if the floor was uneven. She put a hand to her forehead. ‘I—I think I might have to give dinner a miss. I’m going to lie down for a bit...’
Loukas lunged forward and caught her before she hit the floor. Emily folded like a rag doll in his arms, her chalk-white face lolling to rest against the wall of his chest. ‘Are you okay?’
‘Feeling a bit faint...’
He reached for his phone with his free hand, the other keeping her close. ‘I’m going to call an ambulance.’
She pushed back against him, her eyes troubled. ‘No, please don’t do that. I’ll be fine in a minute or two.’
What about in half an hour? Later that night? The following morning? Who was going to take care of her, to watch over her, to make sure she didn’t faint and hurt herself? He couldn’t leave her like this. What if she had a fall? She could end up with a brain injury or worse. She was his responsibility now. The knowledge cemented his decision to marry her. How else could he keep a close eye on her if he lived in another country, or even a few streets away? No. This was the only way forward. ‘Do you want to lie down? Here, I’ll carry you.’
He scooped her up and carried her to her bedroom. It looked like someone had ransacked the room or got dressed for a night out in the middle of a hurricane. The wardrobe was open and a variety of clothes strewn about, some on the end of the bed, others draped over a chair and more on the floor. The dressing table was scattered with make-up detritus: brushes, pots, hair products and a hair straightener. He laid her slight figure on the bed.
She lay back, folded her bandaged hand over her forehead and closed her eyes. ‘I’m so sorry about this.’
Loukas took her good hand and stroked her slender nail-bitten fingers. ‘Don’t be silly. It’s not your fault.’
It’s mine.
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