Читать книгу Their Meant-To-Be Baby - Caroline Anderson - Страница 11
ОглавлениеSHE STOOD AT the bedroom window and watched a car pull up outside the house right on the dot of six, and she ran downstairs and opened the front door.
‘You found me OK, then?’ she said, stating the obvious, but he just gave her a quizzical smile.
‘It’s hardly rocket science. I’ve got a satnav.’
Of course he had. Her stomach in knots, she turned away without another word and led him up the narrow, winding staircase that rose to the top floor of the big Victorian townhouse. Once upon a time it had been elegant. Now it had a run-down feel to it, as if it had been a long time since anyone had truly loved it, and she wondered what Sam with his privileged upbringing would think of it. Not that it mattered.
She’d left the door at the top standing open, and he followed her in, past the cramped kitchen into the sitting room that seemed suddenly much smaller with him in it. It was shabby without the chic, but thanks to the last two hours of frantic activity it was at least clean and tidy, apart from the shelves in the alcoves, which were overflowing with books.
‘Drink?’ she asked, stalling for time, and he nodded.
‘Yeah, thanks—I could murder a coffee.’
No chance. She waved at the sofa. ‘Make yourself at home. The kettle’s hot, I won’t be a moment.’
She closed the kitchen door, sucked in a deep breath and tried to steady herself, to slow the heart that was lodged in her throat.
‘You can do this,’ she whispered, but she didn’t know how, didn’t know if she would ever be ready to say the words that would change their lives for ever.
* * *
He looked around, trying to get a handle on her character, but there was nothing to give her away.
No ornaments or photos, the tired furniture showing evidence of a long, hard life, but at least it was clean.
He studied the books, but all they proved was that she had eclectic taste.
Biographies, travel guides, romance, crime, historical sagas, a collection of cookery books—and a small children’s book, dog-eared and tatty but presumably much loved.
What did she want to talk about?
He heard her come back in and turned, searching her face and finding no clues. She set the tray down and handed him a mug.
He glanced at it, then sniffed it experimentally. ‘Is this tea?’
‘Sorry, I ran out of coffee. Anyway, you’ve been drinking it all day and tea’s better for you.’
That made him blink. ‘Are you trying to mother me?’ he asked, mildly astonished because she hadn’t seemed like the sort of woman who’d hold back on anything if she wanted it, far less advise anyone else to, but he must have hit a sore spot because she sucked in her breath and looked away.
‘Don’t be ridiculous. Why would I do that?’
‘Search me. Kate, what did you want to talk about?’
She met his eyes, looked away briefly and seemed to brace herself before she spoke again.
‘OK. I do have coffee, but I can’t cope with the smell of it at the moment.’ Her eyes locked with his, defiant and yet fearful, and her next words took the wind right out of his sails.
‘I’m pregnant.’
* * *
There. She’d said it.
And from the look on his face, it was the last thing Sam had been expecting to hear.
He turned away, put the mug down on the mantelpiece and gripped the shelf so hard his knuckles turned white.
‘How?’
His voice was harsh, brittle, as if he was holding himself together by sheer willpower. She could understand that. She’d been doing it ever since she’d found out, and she felt as if she hadn’t breathed properly for days.
‘We ran out of condoms, remember? That last time.’ The time she’d assured him it was safe. The irony of it wasn’t lost on her.
She saw him frown in the mirror. ‘But you told me it was OK. You said you were on the Pill—or is that another lie?’
‘No! I am on it—or I was. But I went down with norovirus right after work and I couldn’t even keep water down for days.’
‘You’re sure? You’re not just...’
‘I’m quite sure. And trust me, I’m no more thrilled about it than you are.’
‘You know nothing about me or my feelings,’ he growled, lifting his head and meeting her eyes in the mirror. ‘Nothing.’
‘I know you don’t mind breaking rules so long as you don’t get caught.’
He held her eyes for a moment, then looked away. ‘Not that one. I never, ever break that one. I’m fanatical about contraception.’
‘Apparently not fanatical enough.’
She sighed and reached out a hand to him, then dropped it in defeat. ‘Sam, we can’t fight. This isn’t going to go away just because we don’t like it.’
He rammed a hand through his hair and turned to face her. ‘Are you absolutely sure it’s mine?’
She felt her skin blanch. ‘Of course I’m sure—’
‘Really? Because you fell into bed with me readily enough and you were already apparently on the Pill.’
‘Which makes me just as much of a slut as you. If I remember rightly, you had condoms in your wallet just in case.’
He winced, and she nodded. ‘There. Not nice, is it? But it’s the truth. Neither of us knew anything about the other, and everything we thought we knew was lies. But we’ve made a baby, Sam,’ she said, her voice starting to crack. ‘I’m eleven weeks pregnant and we have to make a decision—’
His head jerked back as if she’d slapped him, and she saw him swallow. ‘You want to get rid of it?’
