Chapter 72 72
Elliot's POV
I drove without saying a word because if I opened my mouth, I’d start demanding again. And today I didn’t want to demand anything.
“You know this isn’t a good idea.”
“I only came to Lisbon for you.”
“With your girlfriend?”
“That was… a complete mistake. Were you jealous?”
“I’ve never been jealous of you living your life or doing what you’re supposed to do.”
“And how am I supposed to live it?”
“Without being… obsessed with me. I think that’s the best way. Emma’s a beautiful young woman. You could tell she likes you. She was really defensive last night.”
“Did she offend you?”
“The truth shouldn’t be offensive, Elliot. I guess she didn’t say anything out of the ordinary. That’s probably how it should’ve been. A normal relationship between a teacher and a student.”
“From the first time I saw you, nothing was normal, Katherine.”
I took her to the first café I saw on the way. Didn’t overthink it. I just needed time. Needed to see her sitting across from me in a place where the light was ordinary, where people ordered coffee and no one yelled. Something normal. Something that didn’t smell like secrecy.
“I’m hungry,” I said when we sat down. “Haven’t eaten breakfast.”
She nodded slowly.
“Me neither.”
She ordered decaf without looking at me. I ordered two full breakfasts. When the waiter left, I just watched her. Not like last night. Not with that urgency that split me in half. I looked at her trying to figure out which part of her was here and which was still locked inside her house.
I reached for her hand.
It was natural. No plan behind it.
She pulled it back gently.
That’s when I got it.
This was her city. Here she had a name, friends, neighbors. Here any touch had witnesses. Here I wasn’t a romantic secret—I was a problem.
I leaned back in the chair and glanced around. Two tables over, an older woman nodded hello. Kate gave her a polite smile.
I couldn’t touch her here.
I couldn’t lean in and kiss her like she was free.
I couldn’t walk holding her hand without her body constantly checking who was watching.
The food came. She barely touched the toast. I ate in silence, thinking.
It didn’t hurt that she pulled her hand away.
It hurt that she had to.
“Are you always like this here?” I asked eventually.
“Like what?”
“On guard.”
She didn’t answer. Dropped her eyes to the coffee.
I paid without arguing. When we left, I didn’t head toward the main sidewalk. I guided her straight to the car.
“Where are we going?” she asked when I opened her door.
I started the engine. Connected my phone and let soft instrumental music play—something low that didn’t fill the space too much.
I quickly checked the map: nearby towns, small cities, places where no one would say “Mrs. Ellis” like they knew her.
“Elliot,” she pressed. “Where are we going?”
I glanced at her for a second. Her brow was barely furrowed. She wasn’t scared. She was trying to anticipate.
I leaned over and stole a quick kiss.
“For God’s sake, Elliot. Just tell me where we’re going.”
“Somewhere you don’t have to look over your shoulder before you breathe.”
I pulled out.
The city started fading behind us. I could tell the streets by how she looked at them. Her body changed when we passed busier areas—she’d smooth her dress, sit up straighter.
When we left the last roundabout and hit open road, her shoulders dropped a little.
I turned the music down.
“I don’t want to hurt you today,” I said without looking at her.
It took her a few seconds to reply.
“That sounds like you usually do.”
“Usually I want you to choose me.”
“And since you can’t force me, you drag me.”
I didn’t answer. She was partly right. She was always right about the parts that hurt to hear.
I drove almost forty minutes in silence. Every now and then I glanced over. The sun lit her profile. Her round belly showed under the fabric when she shifted.
For the first time I thought about something I hadn’t before: that baby was going to exist. With or without my jealousy. With or without my urge to burn everything down.
And still, she was the woman who looked at me like she could break me and rebuild me at the same time.
We entered a small town with narrower streets and old façades. I parked in front of a wide square with trees and iron benches.
I turned off the engine.
“We’re far,” she said.
“Far enough.”
I got out first. Walked around and opened her door. This time she didn’t hesitate when I offered my hand to help her out.
When she was standing, I put my hands on her waist. Slowly. No pressure.
I hugged her.
Not like last night. Not like in the hallway. Not to claim her.
I hugged her because I wanted to feel her calm.
“We’ve never had a real date,” I said against her hair. “It was always in closed rooms. Always stolen. Give me something different today.”
Her hands rested on my chest. Not pushing. Not clinging either.
“I don’t know if this is a good idea.”
“I’m not asking you to change your life. Just walk with me for a few hours without hiding.”
I pulled back just enough to look into her eyes.
“Give me that.”
She looked down.
I took her hand. This time she didn’t pull away.
I stroked her thumbs with mine, slow, like the gesture was brand new. I tilted my head and kissed her knuckles. No challenge. No show.
Just because I wanted to.
“Come on,” I said.
We crossed the square. No one greeted her. No one looked twice. She walked beside me without tension in her shoulders. Her fingers stayed laced with mine.
It was a small thing.
To me it was huge.
Because for the first time I wasn’t fighting to take something from her.
I was just walking with her. And that gave me a feeling that wasn’t euphoria.
We sat on an iron bench under the shade of a tree. The square was quiet, the distant sound of a fountain marking the rhythm of the morning. I looked at her profile for a few seconds before speaking.
“Can I…?” I asked, dropping my gaze to her belly.
She took a long time to answer. Her hands rested on the fabric of her dress, like she was always protecting it.
“Just for a moment,” she said finally, almost a whisper.
I placed my palm carefully, slowly, like I was touching something fragile. Felt the warmth through the fabric. And then it happened.
A strong kick. Then another. And another.
The baby started moving like it was responding to the touch.
A low, incredulous laugh slipped out of me.
“Wow… feels like he knows me.”
I felt her tense under my hand. I didn’t pull away, but I stopped pressing.
“How many months?” I asked without taking my eyes off her belly.
She looked out at the square.
“I don’t want to talk about that.”
“How many months, Katherine?”
Silence.
“I don’t want to,” she repeated, firmer.
I looked at her then. The expression on her face wasn’t simple discomfort. It was something more closed off.
“You got pregnant really fast,” I said slowly. “Andrew had just arrived. How was that possible?”
Her jaw tightened.
“We planned it before coming to Lisbon.”
“We never used protection,” I said without thinking too hard.
She reacted fast.
“I had an IUD.”
The answer came too quick, too rehearsed.
I stared at her for a few seconds. Then let out a short, almost bitter laugh.
“And when did you get it removed?” I asked wearily. “Could it be mine?” I shook my head before she could answer. “That’s ridiculous.”
I laughed again, louder this time, like the idea was absurd.
And then she started crying. Her eyes filled, and tears began falling without her trying to stop them.
My laugh died in my throat.
The hand still resting on her belly went still.
“Katherine… could it be my son?”