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He strode towards her, and her heart thumped; her body ached for his touch. She wanted to collapse against him, to feel his big, strong arms holding her up, keeping her steady. She wanted to lean on him like she’d never leaned on anyone before. She wanted him to hug her and hold her and tell her everything was going to be okay, that they were still being kept safe because they had an agreement.

She wanted, so badly, things that she couldn’t express, that she’d never ask for—and being honest with herself about that was why she knew she needed to leave.

“It doesn’t need to be.” His voice was calm, but the more he tried to reassure her, the more her heart bumped against her ribs.

Fear that he’d seen through her made her blurt out: “I meant work.”

A divot formed between his dark brows. “Sure.” That he didn’t believe her was clear.

She felt like a child again and hated him for that. For rendering her back into an image of herself she’d long-since outgrown. For making her vulnerable and uncertain. Tia squared her shoulders, fixing him with a level gaze that in no way reflected the maelstrom tearing through her. She had to get out of there.

“It must be pretty…complicated…for you to be leaving so quickly.”

“It’s a huge deal, so yeah.”

“And it has nothing to do with what I told you last night?”

Her heart thumped. The truth was there, between them, something she could just say and get it over with. See what he did, how he reacted. But the thought of admitting how much he’d come to mean to her—so much so that even the thought of him being looked at by another woman made her gut ache—was unbearable. It was too far out on a limb she’d sworn she’d never scale—too vulnerable and raw. Too exposing.

“No.”

Damn it. Her voice sounded so small; she was that child again, young and damaged, broken and afraid.

His eyes bored into hers, challenging her, maybe even pleading with her to be honest. But how could she? How could she risk admitting—even to herself—that she’d started to feel very real things for the man she’d married?

“I’ll have my plane come back for you in a couple of days.”

He cursed then, under his breath, but harshly, the word an epithet. “I don’t need you to do that, Tia.”

“I know you don’t, but I insisted on bringing us, it’s the least I can do.”

“The least you can do is stay like we’d planned.”

“I can’t.” Her voice broke; she blinked away.

“If this is about Cressida⁠—”

“It’s not. It’s just…this isn’t real. We need to remember that.” She needed to remember that. For all she knew, he was having no problems compartmentalising this as they’d agreed.

“Who’s forgotten?” he responded, confirming her worst fears. That this was her problem, and hers alone.

“No one. But the longer I stay, the stranger this feels. We’re not a couple, Hamish.” It felt good—and important—to say that.

“But we’re partners,” he responded. “We’re going to have a baby together.”

She pressed her teeth into her lower lip, even that feeling like a stupid idea now. Maybe it was a blessing that she appeared not to have conceived in her first month of trying.

“Let’s…talk back in New York, okay?”

A muscle jerked in his jaw. “You’re adamant?”

No. She was unsure. Everything felt wrong. Staying, leaving. Talking, not saying the things that were on her mind.

“Fine,” he said, even though she hadn’t answered. “I’ll drive you to the airport.”

Her heart thumped. “That’s not necessary. I’ve called a car.”

“You’ve called a car,” he repeated, frown deepening. “Jesus, Tia.”