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For six long weeks he hadn’t even had the guts to pick up the phone and speak to Maya, let alone beg her forgiveness… which was exactly what he should have done. Instead he’d let her leave, as if she was as dispensable and replaceable as one of the stack of inexpensive pens he kept in his desk drawer. He either had to face the fact that he was too scared to overcome the childhood fears his family life had left him with, give them up and move on—or realise that he was a genuine twenty-four-carat bastard who seriously needed the help of a good psychologist. All he knew was that nothing meant anything to him any more since he’d let Maya go…not even his work. Including the play that was currently setting Broadway alight after just two nights.
‘Seriously, I could do with a couple of drinks, and I don’t want to drink alone tonight. You’re about the only one I know who’ll talk straight to me and isn’t after something…I make no apology for my cynicism, but I do ask your forgiveness for any unkind remarks I may have made earlier. I was actually quite pleased when you rang me to say you were coming over here for a short visit to see how the play was doing. Can you forgive me for my previous bad manners?’
‘Sure I can. Lucky for you I was born with such a sweet nature.’ Latching onto his arm, Jane reached up on her four-inch stiletto heels and planted a noisy smacker on his cheek. ‘Plus I never could resist a handsome well-spoken man when he grovels so nicely!’
‘I’m not grovelling, so don’t get too carried away. I still only tolerate you because you’re my agent.’
‘Yeah, and next week they’re crowning me the Queen of England!’
‘No, no, no, Maya, querida! Let me get that. You mustn’t lift heavy things now, remember?’
Straightening up from the box of crockery she’d just been about to lift onto the granite worktop of her new flat’s kitchen, Maya glanced at her helpful friend Diego with a mixture of exasperation and gratitude. Sturdily built, with the shoulders of a flanker in a rugby team, the Spaniard had practically single-handedly packed and moved the contents of her old studio flat to her new two-bedroom abode down the road in Kensal Rise.
Never mind his usually macho sensibilities—he’d been like the proverbial mother hen round Maya ever since she’d confided to him that she was pregnant. Although not before he’d furiously vowed to ‘rough up’ the ne’er do well who had thoughtlessly got her in the family way, leaving her to face the prospect of motherhood on her own. When he’d told her that his aunt had a house in Kensal Rise that she rented out, and that the ground-floor flat had recently become vacant, Maya had increased her working hours for the temp agency to meet the new rent, and had even been putting a little by towards the day when she would have to give up her job completely to take care of her baby.
‘I’m not going to harm myself if I lift a few light boxes, Diego!’ she chided her friend, wincing as he deposited the full-to-the-brim cardboard box onto the counter with a little too much gusto and she heard something inside rattle alarmingly. ‘I’m only eight weeks pregnant, and I don’t even show yet.’
The Spaniard’s dark brown eyes visibly softened as they moved down to Maya’s still flat belly beneath her loose white shirt and faded jeans.
‘Yet the fact is that you are growing a little one inside you who needs you to be careful and not take unnecessary risks that could harm him or his mother.’
‘You know what, Diego?’ Her lips tugging upwards in an affectionate smile, exasperation forgotten, Maya touched her palm gently to his roughened cheek. ‘One of these days, when you meet the right woman, you’re going to be the best father in the whole wide world.’
‘And if my wife is as good and beautiful as you, Maya, I will be the happiest man in the whole wide world too!’ His pleased grin was quickly followed by a concerned frown. ‘Does that crazy, irresponsible man of yours even know what he has done? What he has so foolishly given up?’
Maya flinched, her heart and stomach turning over at the thought of Blaise—at her profound longing to see him again, and at the dreadful hurt and sense of rejection she’d experienced when she’d had to walk away from him in Northumberland and go home. Acute apprehension also deluged her at the prospect of telling him she was pregnant with his child. She’d read in the papers that for the past few weeks he’d been in New York, overseeing the London play that had transferred there. But sooner or later he would be home again, and Maya would have to tell him her news.
After the initial great shock of discovering her condition, she’d been consumed with instant love and strong feelings of protection towards her unborn infant. In her eyes it was an utter miracle, and she felt truly blessed. Even though it wasn’t the future she’d dreamed of…to raise a child alone. But how would Blaise react to the news? Would he be angry or deadly calm? Would he reject the reality of her pregnancy completely and deny all responsibility? Or would he want to take charge and calmly make arrangements for the baby’s future like some distant, remote stranger, displaying no love or concern for the child’s welfare whatsoever?
