by Lucy King
He frowned. ‘You really think so?’
Her throat went tight but she nodded. ‘Of course. I mean, what the hell was I thinking? I can’t have a baby.’
‘Why not?’
Huh?
She stared at him, faintly taken aback. Had he forgotten the conversation they’d had only three days ago? ‘We talked about this, remember?’
‘We talked about why not having a baby was a good idea. We didn’t discuss option number one at all.’
‘No, well, we didn’t need to. We were in agreement.’
‘I have a feeling we still are.’
She blinked, a bit baffled by that. ‘What?’
He looked at her intently, his eyes glinting, his jaw set with a determination she’d never seen before. ‘Tell me why you think you can’t have it.’
‘Because I love my job. I want the partnership. I deserve it. It’s what I’ve been working towards.’ Hadn’t they been through this already?
‘Plenty of other women have children and a demanding job, don’t they?’
‘Of course they do.’
‘So why not you?’
‘It’s not that simple, Marcus,’ she said, wondering how he’d forgotten about all the other reasons they’d come up with for why having this baby would be a bad idea.
‘Isn’t it?’
Exasperation slid through her. What was he trying to do here? Did he want her to change her mind? That didn’t make any sense at all. ‘You know it isn’t.’
‘OK, well, let’s look at it hypothetically.’
‘Hypothetically?’
He nodded. ‘We didn’t discuss it before, but I think we should now.’
‘Isn’t it a bit late?’
He shook his head. ‘Now’s the perfect time,’ he said. ‘So, hypothetically, if you’d decided to go with option one, what would you have planned to do when the baby was born?’
Worryingly and interestingly enough, she didn’t even have to think about it all that hard. ‘I’d have gone back to work,’ she said, her heart beating fast and her head swimming for a second at what that might mean. ‘Possibly hired a nanny. Maybe roped in my dad. He’s been banging on about grandchildren long enough, and he’s about to retire so presumably he’d have been prepared to step up to the plate. And Mum would have helped too, I’m sure. Hypothetically speaking, of course,’ she added hastily, because it was a scenario she could now envisage all too clearly but one that could never happen because Marcus didn’t want it to.
He stretched his legs out in front of him and crossed them at the ankles, staring straight ahead. ‘And where would I have figured in all this?’
‘You wouldn’t have figured at all. Unless you’d wanted to. Which you wouldn’t have because you don’t even want a baby.’
‘Don’t I?’
Her heart squeezed but she ignored it. ‘No.’
‘Assume I do. For the hypothesis.’
Why was he doing this? she wondered, feeling uncharacteristically flustered. Was he making sure she’d thought through everything before going ahead? Or was it something else?
‘OK, fine,’ she said, her brain too frazzled to be able to work it through, ‘but I don’t see it would make any difference, because how could you help?’
‘I could look after the baby when you go back to work.’
She stared at him in surprise. ‘You?’
‘Why not? My time is my own at the moment so it would make perfect sense.’
‘What about your projects?’
‘I can work on them from home.’
‘You’d do that?’
‘Yes.’
She didn’t quite know what to make of that. ‘Have you ever changed a nappy?’
He arched an eyebrow. ‘Have you?’
‘Well, no,’ she conceded. ‘But what about when the baby’s six weeks old or something and has been crying non-stop all night and you realise just what you’ve taken on? Would you still want to stick around then?’ And if he didn’t, what would that mean for her career?
‘Of course. Once I start something I don’t give up.’
Except when it came to relationships, she thought, but before she could say anything, he added, ‘And there’s no way I’d give up on my child.’
‘But wouldn’t you mind?’
‘What about?’
‘About what other people might think if you stayed at home looking after a baby while I went back to work, for a start.’
‘I don’t give a crap what other people think.’
Which was admirable, but now it struck her that somewhere along the line this conversation had become less theoretical and more real so she steeled herself and said, ‘But what does any of this matter? It’s all totally irrelevant. Hypothetical.’
‘Right.’ He drew his legs back, sat bolt upright and swivelled so he was facing her, his jaw tight and his eyes practically burning into hers. ‘But what if it wasn’t?’
Her heart skipped a beat and her breath caught. ‘I don’t understand.’
‘What if I said I’d changed my mind too?’
‘I haven’t changed—’ She stopped. Stared at him. ‘What?’
‘You heard.’
‘Have you changed your mind?’
He nodded. ‘I have.’
‘You want this baby?’
‘I do.’
She reeled. ‘But how? Why? You said you weren’t fatherhood material and never would be.’
‘I know I did.’
‘So what happened?’
‘Nothing happened. I just wasn’t being entirely honest when I agreed with you that we should go for option number three.’
‘Why on earth not?’
‘Guilt, mainly.’
She stared at him. ‘Guilt?’
‘It’s my fault you’re pregnant.’
Her heart stumbled for a second. ‘That’s very noble of you, Marcus,’ she said with small smile, ‘but it does take two to tango. And we were careful. No one’s to blame. It’s just one of those things life likes to throw at you to really screw up your plans.’
‘No, it really is. I opened the condom packet with my teeth. I think I might have ripped it.’
It was a possibility, she supposed, but, ‘You don’t know that you did.’
‘Do you have a better explanation?’
‘It could have been anything.’
‘Doesn’t matter,’ he said resolutely. ‘My condom, my application, my fault.’
For a moment she didn’t know what to say. ‘That’s mad,’ she managed eventually. ‘None of this is anyone’s fault.’
He shrugged. ‘I should have been more careful. It’s no excuse, but I wasn’t thinking all that straight at the time.’
‘No. Well, who was?’ said Celia, going warm at the memory.
‘Anyway, because of the guilt I decided that I’d go along with whatever you decided.’
With some difficulty she dragged herself back from the memory of that afternoon. ‘So you lied?’ she asked, frowning.
‘Not exactly,’ he said with a shrug. ‘I simply didn’t allow myself to think about what I wanted in case you wanted something different.’
Nothing simple about that, she thought, as she waded through it all. ‘So given that,’ she said, only about eighty per cent certain she got what he meant because the realisation that had she not said anything he’d have let her go through with it despite wanting the opposite was too much to handle right now, ‘how do I know that your change of heart now doesn’t simply reflect mine?’
Not much point in denying that she had had a change of heart any more, was there? Not when just the thought of holding her child made her heart practically burst from her chest.
> ‘Because I’ve been having doubts for days.’
‘So you think we should have this baby.’
‘Yes.’
‘But we don’t like each other,’ she said, knowing she was grasping at straws but trying to buy some time to absorb the enormity of where the conversation was heading.
His eyes glittered. Darkened. ‘Don’t we?’
Celia shivered at the heat that flared in his eyes but ignored it because the situation was complicated enough without adding chemistry into the mix.
‘We live miles apart.’
‘So move in with me.’
She gaped at him. On what level would that be a good idea? ‘No.’
‘Then how about into the house next door to me?’
‘What?’
‘I own it. I rent it out, but I can give the tenants notice and you can move in. Rent-free.’
‘No way.’
‘All right. Pay the rent. I don’t mind. But it would be convenient, don’t you think?’
‘You’ve given this some thought.’
‘None at all,’ he said with a wry smile. ‘I’m doing this very much on the hoof. But we have resources. Lots of them. The obstacles aren’t insurmountable.’
He was formidable, she thought with a shiver. Determined and assertive and just a little bit overwhelming. Which was odd because a couple of months ago these weren’t words she’d have used to describe him, although presumably he wouldn’t have created a business worth millions if he hadn’t been.
The combination was also very attractive, and she wished she could go back to thinking him laid-back, shallow and debauched because somehow those characteristics seemed a whole lot safer than the ones she’d seen in recent days.
With not a small amount of formidable determination of her own she pushed aside the realisation that she found him way more attractive now than she ever had before and concentrated on the conversation.
‘I have a place of my own,’ she pointed out, telling herself that just because what he suggested made frighteningly good sense it didn’t mean she was ready to abandon her highly valued independence just yet.
‘You have a pristine flat up four flights of stairs and there isn’t a lift. Think about it.’
She did, and at the vision of herself struggling up them with a pushchair could see his point, not that she was going to admit it because the speed with which things were going if she did she could well find herself moved in to his house next door by the end of the week. ‘How did you get to be so practical?’
‘I always have been. You just haven’t noticed.’
Seemed she hadn’t noticed quite a bit. ‘You’re not going to suggest we get married or anything, are you?’ she said, with the arch of an eyebrow and the hint of a grin.
He froze, a look of horror flashing across his face. ‘Do you want me to?’
‘God, no,’ said Celia with a shudder, although part of her wondered what he’d have done if she’d said yes. ‘My parents only married because my mother was pregnant with Dan and look what happened there. And despite the mess they made of things, and the effect it could have had on us, Dan and I have turned out pretty much OK, I think.’
The tension eased from his body and he shot her a quick smile. ‘You turned out more than OK.’
‘Nevertheless,’ she said, going warm and knowing that annoyingly it had little to do with the heat of the midday sun, ‘if we have this child you do know it would tie us together for ever, don’t you?’
‘Only in one respect. We’d still be free to pursue our own interests.’
No need to ask what those interests would be, she thought a bit waspishly as those photos of scantily clad Sardinians flashed into her head and the heat inside her faded. ‘It would seriously cramp your style.’ Not to mention hers, because, even though she didn’t have much of one at the moment, at some point in the future she’d like to meet someone who didn’t think of marriage as a fate worse than death.
‘That’s my problem to worry about.’ He shifted on the bench, and as she caught a trace of his scent she tried not to inhale deeply.
‘With the issue my parents have family parties would be a nightmare.’
‘But manageable.’
‘Do you have an answer for everything?’
‘Not everything.’
‘But most things.’
He gave her the glimmer of a smile. ‘Do you have any other arguments to put forward?’
‘No,’ she said a little dazedly as she thought about it. ‘I appear to have run out.’
‘And?’
She tilted her head and stared at him, noting the dark intensity of his eyes, the set of his jaw, and wondering about both. ‘You really want this, don’t you?’
‘Yes.’
‘Why?’
‘For the same reasons you do.’
Hmm. She doubted that, but she was hardly going to probe further. If she did then she’d have to go into her reasons, which she suspected went a lot deeper than the effect of a wall of paintings and an ultrasound.
But whatever his reasons, and however surreal today had been, however they were going to figure it all out, she knew what she wanted beyond the shadow of a doubt. And so, with her heart hammering, she took a deep breath and said, ‘Then I guess we’re going to be parents.’
TEN
‘You’re pregnant?’
At the volume of her brother’s voice and the sudden hush that fell over the tapas bar where she, her brother and her sister-in-law were having supper and a catch-up for the first time since the happy couple had been back in London Celia winced. ‘Not sure they heard you in the kitchen, Dan,’ she muttered. ‘Would you mind keeping it down a bit?’
‘Yes, I bloody well would,’ he said hotly. ‘We’ve been here for over an hour, and you didn’t think to mention it?’
She put down her fork, arched an eyebrow and shot him a look. ‘And interrupt the fascinating and lengthy tales of your adventures on honeymoon?’
‘You did go on a bit, Dan,’ murmured Zoe, picking up her glass of wine and taking a sip.
Celia grinned. ‘To tell you the truth, I loved hearing about what you got up to,’ she said. ‘Especially the bit where you got chased by a herd of angry alpacas. That’s definitely one to bring out at your diamond wedding anniversary. And anyway, I’m mentioning it now.’
Dan frowned. ‘How pregnant are you?’
‘Twelve weeks, give or take a day or two.’ She’d had the scan yesterday and when she’d seen those tiny little hands and feet and then been told that everything was progressing as it should had felt a mixture of relief, excitement and terror.
Marcus had been there too, the first time she’d seen him since they’d reversed their decision about the abortion. He’d sat next to her, asking questions and squeezing her hand and for a split second she’d felt this deep, deep longing that they were together. For each other, not just the baby. Which didn’t make any sense whatsoever because they hadn’t seen each other for four weeks and for all she knew he’d bedded half of London in that time. And while she knew that it was undoubtedly down to hormones, all in all it had been a rather peculiar, faintly unsettling quarter of an hour.
‘Congratulations,’ said Zoe, beaming.
‘Thank you.’
Dan shot his wife a look. ‘Why don’t you sound as surprised as I am by this?’ he asked suspiciously. ‘Did you know? Two months in and do we already have secrets?’
Zoe shook her head and patted him on the arm. ‘Calm down, Dan. Of course I didn’t know. But when a woman declines alcohol and avoids the prawns it doesn’t take a genius to work it out.’ Then she shot him a wicked smile. ‘And you might as well get used to the secrets thing because I have loads. You might even like some of them.’
&nbs
p; His gaze locked onto his wife’s and something flickered in his eyes that Celia didn’t even want to try and analyse. ‘Right,’ he murmured, softening for a second before snapping his gaze back to her and glaring.
‘You can stop looking and sounding all outraged,’ said Celia, refusing to rise. ‘This is the twenty-first century, you know. Women do get pregnant by accident and out of wedlock.’
‘I know,’ said her brother, shoving his hands through his hair and frowning. ‘I’m just a bit stunned, that’s all. I’d never have thought you...’ He tailed off. Looked a bit bemused. Then rubbed a hand over his face as acceptance settled in. ‘Do Mum and Dad know?’
‘Not yet. I’ll tell them soon.’
‘Who’s the father?’
Celia didn’t see the point of not telling them. If Marcus was intending to be as hands-on as he claimed they’d find out soon enough anyway. ‘Marcus.’
Dan nearly fell off his chair. ‘My Marcus?’
‘If you want to put it like that.’ Although to be honest she didn’t think he was anyone’s. Nor, in all likelihood, would he ever be, given his track record, his comments on the subject and the look of horror that had filled his face when she’d jokingly asked if he was going to suggest they got married.
‘I thought you couldn’t stand each other,’ said Dan, while Zoe merely smiled knowingly and helped herself to the last of the prawns.
Celia lowered her gaze and studied her non-alcoholic cocktail. ‘Yes, well, things change,’ she said, ignoring the sudden and unexpected urge to ask her brother if Marcus’ aversion to commitment was simply down to an enjoyment of variety, because why would she need to know that?
And actually, things had changed quite a bit, she thought, turning it over in her mind as she twiddled her straw. Primarily her opinion of him. How she could ever have thought him shallow and pointless and irresponsible she had no idea. He might go out with—and probably sleep with—a lot of women but he was none of those things, and she’d been stupid and arrogant in her presumption that she had the measure of him all these years.
There was clearly a lot to learn about the father of her child. A lot of assumptions she had to ditch. So maybe she could do a lot worse than spend the next six months trying to figure out who Marcus really was, because if she was being honest he was turning out to be more fascinating than she’d ever have imagined.
