and she’d been both grateful and relieved to see him.
It wasn’t that he could do anything to change what had happened, but he made her feel calmer, more rational. Less like the woman she’d been last night.
Her fingers tightened around the cloth and she closed her eyes.
That, in short, was the problem. Maybe it was because he was so uncompromisingly masculine physically, but Aristo made her feel like a woman—fierce and wild and hungry to touch and be touched. They’d felt so right together; he’d felt so right against her. And, even though she despised herself for being so shallow, she couldn’t pretend that anything had changed. When he was near her she was still so aware of his body, his breathing, the heat of his skin…
Her insides felt suddenly hot and tight and, breathing out a little, she opened her eyes. She’d done everything she could to excise the memory of what it felt like to be held in Aristo’s arms, only for him to turn up on her doorstep and make a mockery of all her efforts. It wasn’t fair—but that didn’t mean she was going to roll over and let him turn her and George’s lives upside down.
‘It could?’ Turning, she stared at Elliot disbelief. ‘How, Elliot? How could it be worse?’
He shrugged, his expression innocent. ‘He could have kissed you.’
Remembering how close she’d come to letting that happen, she scowled at him, a blush of colour heating her cheeks. ‘He didn’t.’
‘Or you could have kissed him—Hey, it was a joke.’ Grinning, he caught the cloth that Teddie threw at him. ‘Where’s your sense of humour?’
Collapsing onto the stool beside him, she shook her head. ‘It packed its bags and left shortly after Aristotle Leonidas arrived.’
She felt a sudden rush of panic, remembering that stand-off between them—the prickling of her skin and the intensity of his gaze, his dark eyes scanning her face, all-seeing, hungry, unwavering… Her stomach tightened, her hands curling into fists. She might not have given in last night, but this thing, this ‘connection’ between them wasn’t going to just disappear.
But she could.
The thought popped into her head unbidden, fully formed, because of course that was still her gut instinct. Before Aristo, years of her life had been spent living out of suitcases, staying in hotels and motels, always ready to leave, to flee like a getaway driver after a heist. Running away had been her quick fix, her go-to solution for dealing with any problem in her life, any time things got hard.
It was a hangover from a childhood spent dodging unpaid bills and bailiffs and a legacy from her father—not that she’d ever thought of him as that. Wyatt Taylor had never stayed around long enough for the name ‘Dad’ to stick. Just long enough to teach her a couple of magic tricks and to make her miss him when he left.
Her heart began to pound.
Only, how could she run with a child? George’s life was here, in New York. He went to nursery here, he had friends, a routine. He was the reason she’d stopped running.
As though sensing her panic, Elliot reached over and pushed a stray strand of hair away from her face.
‘Come on, Teddie, I know he was a pig to you, and maybe it wasn’t ideal, him turning up here out of the blue, but…’ He hesitated, his expression becoming uncharacteristically serious. ‘But whatever you’re telling yourself, you’re wrong. You can’t run this time, babe.’
As she glanced up guiltily he gave her a lopsided smile.
‘I’ve known you since I was twelve years old. I don’t need supernatural powers to read your mind. This isn’t something you can run away from, and deep down I don’t think you really want to.’
She lifted her chin, narrowing her green eyes. ‘And yet strangely, on a superficial level, I feel completely certain that I absolutely do.’
Elliot poked one of her clenched hands with his finger. ‘No, you don’t. I was there, remember? I know how often you tried to call him. I know how many messages you left, how upset you were.’ His jaw tensed. ‘I’m no fan of Aristotle Leonidas, but—’ he frowned ‘—he’s still George’s father and he’s got a right to see his son. Right now it’s a shock, but once you get used to the idea it’ll be okay, I promise. I mean, loads of couples share custody of their children.’
Teddie gave him a small, tight smile.
Thinking about a future in which she would have to see Aristo on a regular basis, speak to him and have him turning up on her doorstep, was not her definition of okay. But maybe over time her feelings for him would diminish, like radioactivity—only didn’t that take, like, decades? Not that it mattered how she felt, or where she was. She could run but, as Elliot said, she couldn’t hide from the truth any more. Aristo was George’s father and she was just going to have to suck it up.
Pushing back his stool, Elliot stood up. ‘I gotta go, but I’ll call you later.’ Sliding his arms into his jacket, he kissed her forehead. ‘And don’t worry. Leopards don’t change their spots, baby, and from everything you’ve ever told me about your ex he’s not the kind to stick around long enough for this to become a problem.’
Watching Elliot let himself out of the apartment, she knew he was trying to reassure her. And she should feel reassured—it was, after all, what she wanted, wasn’t it? For Aristo to disappear from her life for good? Only, for some strange reason, that thought didn’t seem quite comforting as she’d imagined it would.
* * *
While George took his afternoon nap Teddie tidied the apartment, moving automatically to pick up the tiny toy cars and miniature dinosaurs that were scattered everywhere. Eventually she stopped beside her bed and, kneeling down, pulled out a cardboard box.
Feeling a lump start to build in her throat, she hesitated, and then sat on the floor. Lifting off the lid, she gazed down at the contents.
Was that it? Had her marriage really amounted to nothing more than a shoebox shoved under a bed?
Pushing aside the letters and documents, she reached to the bottom of the box and pulled out a small blue box.
Her hand twitched and then slowly, heart thumping erratically, she opened it and stared down at the plain gold band. For a moment she couldn’t move, but as her breathing steadied she picked up her wedding ring and slid it onto her finger.
She still wasn’t sure why she had kept it. But the answer to that was not as simple as the question implied.
At first, in the weeks after she’d moved out of Aristo’s apartment—and it had always felt like his apartment—she’d kept wearing it because even though it had become clear to her by then that her husband was a different person from the impulsive lover she’d promised to love and honour and cherish, she hadn’t been ready to give up on her marriage.
And then later it had been the one thing he’d given to her that he hadn’t and could never take away—of course that had been before she found out about George.
Her throat tightened. She could still picture the exact moment that she’d finally decided to stop wearing it.
It had been on the taxi ride home from that night she’d spent in Aristo’s
