Behind His Eyes: Truth

Each of Tony’s attempts to discuss the pregnancy was met with a dutiful response; however, she wasn’t providing answers, simply conversation. He received her message loud and clear: she was upset and he’d screwed up. It was a message meant solely for him: no one else would have known—not his staff as they brought their meal and not their friends at the dessert celebration. Claire performed perfectly, staying dutifully by his side. To everyone, they appeared the happy couple trying for reconciliation. He did see a genuine smile when he asked the waiter for two glasses of nonalcoholic champagne. It was the most disgusting bubbly grape juice that Tony had ever tasted. If pregnant women were supposed to drink shit like that—well, no wonder they felt ill.

Throughout dinner and the celebration, Tony tried to think of a way to apologize, to help her understand that his initial reaction was not because he didn’t want her to have the baby. It was shock. His mind went back to another apology years ago.

Claire hadn’t wanted to go with him. Never, since she’d first been brought to the estate, had he seen her react as vehemently and violently as she did that afternoon. All Tony had wanted to do was to get her away from the estate. It had been almost two months since she’d gone anywhere. Nevertheless, when he led her past the front doors and she saw the car waiting, Claire lost it. Right there on his front steps, she broke down in a fit of hysteria. Tony had never seen anything like it. For over a month she’d been calm and accommodating—too calm. That afternoon, all of her emotions bubbled over. She spewed hateful things as she fell to the ground, refusing to budge. He recalled the daggers in her no longer calm green eyes as she told him that she hated him.

It had been Catherine who’d whispered and explained to let her go. In all the time since her accident, she’d not broken down. Catherine explained that it was part of the healing process.

That day Tony knew Claire needed more than a release. She needed—no, she deserved—to hear his honest apology.

The circumstances were totally different, but as they left the dessert celebration, Claire needed the same things from Tony as she had that cold afternoon. Driving through the night, he peered to his right, trying to assess if Claire noticed that they weren’t headed home. His glance confirmed what he’d seen all evening: the perfect companion. Even when they detoured down a dirt road, Claire appeared unaware. Tony stopped the car and allowed the headlights to shine into the meadow. It was their meadow, the place where he’d apologized for her accident, for losing control, and the place where he’d asked for her forgiveness. That day had brought the spark back to Claire’s dead eyes.

Tony had pushed away the memories of the month following Claire’s accident. Though she obeyed, or more accurately, acquiesced to everything, she was a walking shell. Tony refused to allow this baby or his reaction to take her back to that place. He didn’t want the perfect companion. Tony wanted Claire—her fire, her brazen spunk, and even her bold retorts. If she needed to yell at him, so be it. If she needed his apology, he’d give it.

When she didn’t speak, he asked, “Do you know where we are?”

Claire looked from side to side. “No, I don’t.”

He got out of the car and walked to her door. After opening it, he extended his hand and asked, “Will you please walk with me a moment?”

Her glance diverted to the floorboard. “I don’t think my shoes were meant for—”

“I don’t give a damn about the shoes.” His polite invitation gave way to the emotions he’d kept suppressed all evening.

Claire nonchalantly shrugged and accepted his outstretched hand. Her facade was once again secure as she replied, “Of course, Mr. Rawlings, I’d be delighted.”

They took a few steps before Claire stumbled and fell into his arms. He wanted to hold her forever, in the moonlight, under the stars, enjoying the perfect June evening. While he prayed that she’d understand his intentions, she straightened herself and stood on her own.

“Have you figured out where we are?” he asked.

“I really don’t know.”

“This is where I brought you the day I apologized for your accident.”

Claire’s back straightened, and her chin rose indignantly.

He added, “I meant every word that day.”

“Tony, I don’t want to talk about—”

“I’ve done some things in my life that I’m not proud of. I never in all of my life considered having a child.” He had her full attention and continued, “I can run businesses, make deals, and multitask better than most.” His volume increased. “Nothing frightens me. I can take on an entire board of directors and know that tomorrow they’ll all be jobless. I have eliminated adversaries and obstacles.” He silently pleaded with her. “This is totally new territory.”

Her facade melted. “I know and it scares me, too.”

Was he scared? He was. The memories of this meadow and his last apology brought back other memories, times that he’d seen fear in her eyes. “Do I?” He needed to know. Did he scare her? Could they overcome the past and raise a child? Did she even want to? Waiting, he held his breath.

Finally, she replied, “I’m afraid of what you’re capable of doing. You made a point of showing me your control over my friends’ futures.” She reached for his hand. “But of you personally? Not anymore. There was a time, but I’ve changed and you’ve changed. No, I’m not.”