lifted her gaze. “But someday I will find another,” she whispered. “I’ll find a man who will never abandon me or break my heart.”
Théo’s body stiffened. There it was again, her mention of a dream man, a perfect masculine paragon that Théo was already beginning to despise.
“Don’t bother thinking of him,” he said sharply. “If you’re telling me the truth, and Henry is my son, you will soon be my wife.”
Carrie stared at him, her eyes wide. For several seconds she struggled to speak. Then she choked out, “No!”
“You would put your hatred of me, and your selfish longings for romance, over the best interests of our son?”
Her lips turned down at the edges, and if possible she looked still more unhappy. “I’m not marrying you. Not when I know you will lose interest in being a father within a week—”
“You don’t know that,” he interrupted fiercely.
“Yes, I do. I know exactly the kind of man you are,” she said steadily. “A playboy who doesn’t want to ever be tied down, who lives entirely for his own selfish needs, who will never be faithful to any woman for longer than a week.”
“Don’t you dare presume to—”
“Marriage is a lifelong commitment—until death. It can only be based on love.” Her voice hardened. “And I despise you.”
Her words burned inside him, echoing and reverberating inside his soul. Once Carrie had looked at him with eyes full of adoration. Now she seemed to hate the sight of him.
Théo looked down at the small baby cuddling against his chest. The thought of some other, no doubt more deserving man raising his baby son felt like a knife in his throat.
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