"Sure." Tula was grateful that he had found something to do and would get out of her hair. "I'm going to look at the bedroom. See what clothes Amanda ordered for me. I hope there are some dresses in there because I really detest these pants."
She didn't wait for his response, just headed down the short hallway toward the bedrooms. There were two doors, one on each side of the hall. She chose the one on the right at random and found herself in a pleasant room with a large bed, a seating area, a walk-in closet, and a bath that she decided she would check out after she was done with the closet.
It was full of clothes, just as Amanda had promised, and everything was designed to accommodate pregnancy. Maternityjeans, stretchy pants, soft shirts, and comfortable dresses. Simple things, with no silk in sight.
Tula missed her comfortable silk gowns, but no one in the village wore such dresses, and she wanted to look modern and blend in. She would get used to these clothes.
Eventually.
She ran her hands over the fabrics, trying to feel grateful. Trying to feel anything other than trapped. She couldn't have said no. Couldn't have corrected Ingrid's assumption in front of everyone, couldn't have said that Tony and she weren't together anymore while her sister and Amanda, and all those friendly, welcoming people stood there waiting to celebrate their arrival.
It would have been cruel. Humiliating. Tony deserved better than that.
He was the father of her child. Whatever else was true, whatever had changed between them, that fact remained. She owed him dignity. Owed him the courtesy of handling their separation privately rather than making a spectacle of it. But standing here in this bedroom, in this house that everyone thought they'd share as a couple, Tula felt suffocated.
With a sigh, she left the closet and stepped into the attached bathroom. It was large, almost as large as the one she'd had in the harem, and the tub had jets. There was also a separate shower with a clear glass enclosure. Everything was gleaming and new.
She could draw a bath and buy herself an hour of privacy to think things through.
Turning on the faucet, Tula was just starting to undress when she smelled something heavenly.
Her stomach growled, reminding her that she'd barely eaten on the plane because the food had been tasteless, and she'd been too nervous and emotional to do more than pick at it.
The bath could wait.
Tula turned off the water and followed the scent back to the kitchen.
Tony stood at the stove, moving with the easy confidence of someone who knew exactly what he was doing. He'd found an apron somewhere and tied it around his waist. A pot of water boiled on one burner while he stirred something that smelled delicious in a pan on another.
"I was about to take a bath but was lured by this amazing smell. What are you making?"
"I found fresh pasta in the freezer," he said without looking up. "And canned tomatoes, fresh garlic, fresh basil—everything I need for a marinara. It'll be ready in a few minutes." He motioned at the barstools with the spatula. "Take a seat."
Tula pulled out a stool and sat at the counter.
The kitchen was open to the living area, separated only by a counter with barstools. It was designed for exactly this—one person cooking while another kept them company.
Intimate. Domestic.
She imagined couples enjoyed this, had seen it done in movies, but had never experienced anything of the sort herself. Hermeals had been served by servants in the dining room for as long as she could remember.
Tula watched Tony add pasta to the boiling water, stir the sauce with well-practiced movements, taste, and adjust seasonings. He really did know his way around a kitchen.
Maybe she should keep him, a traitorous voice whispered in her mind. He was a known entity. Not a bad person. The father of her baby. If he was a Dormant and could turn immortal, couldn't she just make it work?
She tried to imagine it. Years stretching ahead, living in this house with Tony. Raising their son together. Playing at being a happy family, even though her heart wasn't in it. Watching him love her, but not really, while she felt nothing but growing irritation and resentment.
No. The answer came swift and certain. No, she couldn't do that to either of them.
She'd been growing more and more irritated with him lately, and yes, part of it was pregnancy hormones making her antsy and emotional. But most of it was just Tony. Despite his extensive education and despite knowing a lot about many subjects, he was shallow. He didn't feel deeply about anyone, including her, he didn't have strong opinions about anything, and he had no backbone.
He was never supposed to be the one, it had been a given, a fact they had both been aware of. He'd always been thealmostguy. Not bad enough to discard and take on another lover, especially given the alternatives, but he'd never been good enough to keep long term either, and not just because he was human.
Now that they were free, choosing to stay with someone out of obligation or convenience seemed like a cop-out. It would only make both their lives miserable.
"Here we go." Tony carried two plates to the counter. Pasta perfectly al dente, with sauce glistening with olive oil and flecked with fresh basil.
"This smells amazing," Tula said.
