“Well, everything regarding your pregnancy will bring him closer to you.” It seems like Eric is trying to avoid the subject.
“Yes, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to record my private, medical checkups,” I tell him, making sure it’s not what he had in mind.
Eric draws out a loud breath, most likely displeased. “Fine, but next time you are with him, kindly record it.” And just like he usually does, he hangs up without saying goodbye like it’s the most natural thing to do.
A gush of air leaves my lungs as I ponder the phone call I just had. Not only can Eric be a fucking asshole because of our agreement, but what will happen if Alex is truly innocent? What if it’s his family who killed Mom without him even knowing it? After all, Alex admitted he didn’t know about those nanoparticles until my dad told him––and I could tell he was being sincere. If I can get Alex on tape denouncing his family, then Eric might leave him in peace and go after them instead. Decided, I leap off of bed, go take a shower, and put on one of those dresses I know Alex likes, then I spray some jasmine perfume and place the voice-recorder in my bra. I’m not too sure if the sound quality will be good, but this dress doesn’t have any pockets, so I don’t really have any other choice. After leaving the bedroom, I stumble in on Maria who informs me Alex is on the terrace finishing his breakfast. Oh, it seems like he’s enjoying the fact the terrace is now winter-friendly. As I cross the lounge room, I can hear my heart hammering against my ribs. The fact I’m recording our conversations doesn’t sit well with me, but if it means finding the truth and getting him out of this mess, then so be it. My eyes fall on him as he’s completely engrossed in his iPad, glasses on, and drinking his usual espresso. Despite my best attempt, a quick sigh escapes me as my heart recognizes its owner. I wonder how I will find him today; cold and distant or warm and approachable like last night?
I slowly walk onto the terrace, heading toward the chair in front of him. “Good morning,” I say, loud enough for him to hear. “May I have breakfast with you?” I never thought in my entire life I’d be asking my husband for permission to do such a mundane act, and yet here we are. Is it because I feel gullible for recording us? Most likely… Alex looks up at me, his lips in a straight line. Not a good sign.
“Of course,” he answers politely. “Have a seat.” As I do so, he puts his iPad down, switching his attention to me. “Did you sleep well?”
My eyebrows raise at his question. He doesn’t sound angry or mad at me. “I did,” I answer while his expression softens with a smile. “And you?”
“I did too, thanks.” He brushes that off, like he wants to change the subject to something else. “Petra…” he lets my name trail off as he keeps staring at me.
I wait a bit for him to develop, but Alex seems to be lost for words. “Is everything okay?”
After finishing his espresso, he looks back at me and announces coldly, “What happened last night was a mistake.”
Well, that felt like a knife to my chest, but I do my best to conceal my agony and remain just as stoic as he is.
“I don’t want to give you the false idea that I’m moving back home or that everything is forgotten because we spent the night together.”
While his statement was kinda expected, deep down my heart hoped he’d have changed his mind. My mouth goes dry and yet I don’t have the confidence in me to drink from his water, so I just wet my lips and try to find the will to say something. “You’re talking like we are just a fling,” I point out, my tone laced with annoyance. “May I remind you, we are married.”
“I’m not the one who forgot,” he says flatly.
I snigger at his ridiculous answer. “It’s because of your lies that we are where we are today.”
He shakes his head, looking at the void as he thinks something through. “Everything that I did was to protect you.”
I can’t help but chuckle as I hear him repeating the same thing he said yesterday. “There’s always some kind of excuse, huh?”
“You are siding with them and that means I can’t trust you.”
His words are delivered with the same emotion of a robot. I wonder what changed between last night and today, but I keep quiet. I’m just too sad and disappointed to even talk.
“Whenever you have a prenatal appointment, let me know and I’ll go with you, but our interactions will be strictly limited to things related to your pregnancy.”
I huff, shaking my head at his formality. My mind starts going to a dark place and then my biggest fear hits me. “And what if something goes wrong while we’re apart? You won’t even be there for me.”
My concern leaves him speechless. And Alex looks away, before heaving a long sigh as he considers me. “If you want, we can hire a midwife to live with you.”
Before I can tell him a word or two about having a full-time midwife but not a full-time husband, he asks, “Do you know when your next appointment is?”
“On the twenty-sixth,” I grit between my teeth. “Mariana told me I should have a growth scan done every two to three weeks.” I look down at my lap as I remember I don’t even have a delivery date yet. “We did a few tests the last time I saw her and she’ll go through the results that day.”
“Petra?” His voice is way more gentle than before. I look up and see how his expression has softened becoming much more empathetic.
“I’ll be here for whatever you need.” He sounds genuinely concerned. “We aren’t living in separate places because I don’t care about you.”
“The condo has plenty of rooms for you to sleep in,” I press, my heart stuck on my throat. “You don’t have to live elsewhere.”
“I already told you; I can’t live under the same roof as you.”
Shaking my head, I mutter, “That makes zero sense.”
“It does to me,” he ripostes just as fast. Then he takes his iPad from the table, leans back on his chair, and starts reading again signaling that he’s done talking to me. “Zach will take you back to Manhattan at the end of the day.”
His arrogance makes my blood boil and I can’t prevent the gap between my lips at his disgusting attitude. “You must be out of your mind,” I blurt out.
“Am I?” He rises from his chair and my gaze travels up with him. After crossing the table to stand beside me, he sits slightly on the edge of the table and looking me straight in the eye, he asks, “Aren’t you the one recording this conversation?”
Jeez! My heart drops to my knees at his question. Unable to hide the shock out of my face, my eyes drift down to my place setting while I swallow the lump in my throat, not wanting to admit it.
He lets out a breath filled with disappointment. “That’s what I thought.” And Alex simply leaves, walking back inside the house.
I remain totally paralyzed as I let everything sink in. I feel horrible for what I’m doing to him, and ultimately to us. I’m not sure I’ll have the stomach to look him in the eye again after that. What we did yesterday was a mistake and Alex is right––It mixed reasoning and lust, blurring everything for us. I inhale and exhale slowly, trying to accept the fact that until the case is closed, we should keep our distance. I might hate the idea of Alex and I living separated, but at least it’s a more honest relationship than being here taping him. I too leave the terrace, heading back to our bedroom in order to gather my things. Eric knows Alex won’t talk to me. It’s literally on tape, so why would I waste my time here? I remove the device from my bra, feeling pathetic to have accepted this deal in the first place. Jeez, I should’ve negotiated a better arrangement; one that wouldn’t include taping conversations––despite it being legal. I hear a few knocks on the door and as I turn, my eyes meet Maria who seems slightly perplexed as to why I’m packing.