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Oh God—
“You have a child, don’t you, Angie?”
Angie’s face brightened. “Yes, Miss Mc—Hannah. I have a little girl.”
Was she an accident?
Did you want to get pregnant or did you freak out and panic?
“I guess—well, life must have changed when you had her.”
“That’s an understatement.” Angie crossed the room and picked up the two empty mugs from Hannah’s desk. “They say you don’t know worry until you have kids, and they’re right. Take the past couple of weeks—she’s been ill and we’ve been back to that emergency room three times. Terrifying. The one word you never want to hear as a mother is meningitis. Fortunately, it wasn’t that, but we all had some sleepless nights. She’s home now but still taking meds. She’s been a little fractious, which isn’t easy to handle. She’s awake most of the night coughing, so I’m awake, too, worrying, you know?”
No, she didn’t know. And the fact that she didn’t want to know was the reason she didn’t have children. That depth of searing anxiety and raw emotion was something she could happily live without.
For a brief moment she remembered Posy clinging to her, a sodden heap of inconsolable grief and confusion.
Where’s Mommy? Want Mommy. When will Mommy be home?
Emotions smashed through the wall she’d built, cascading over all her defenses and flooding every part of her. She pushed back, trying to cage those feelings and control them, the way she always did.
Angie peered at her. “Are you all right?”
“I’ll be fine.” Her mouth was dry and her hands were shaking. “And I hope your little girl is better soon.”
“Thank you. I sometimes think that being a parent is the hardest thing in the world.”
It was exactly what she didn’t need to hear.
Hannah felt terror grip her throat. Her body felt tingly and a wave of dizziness smashed into her. The walls of her office seemed to be closing in and she couldn’t see Angie properly. There were spots in front of her eyes.
Panic attack, she thought. She was having a panic attack, right here at her desk, when she was due in an important client meeting in a matter of minutes. Worse was the terror that her colleagues might discover that Hannah McBride wasn’t exactly the woman she presented to the world.
Angie looked alarmed. “I’m going to fetch you a glass of water.”
Hannah forced herself to slow her breathing.
“Hannah? Oh, hi, Angie,” Adam’s voice cut through the clouds of panic. “How’s little Emma? Better?”
“Yes, thank you. Miss Mc—Hannah isn’t feeling too good. I’m going to fetch her some water. Will you stay with her a minute?”
Hannah’s pulse rate revved up to dangerous levels. She didn’t need Adam to stay with her. She needed to use the few minutes she had before the meeting to compose herself.
She saw Angie smile at him the way all women smiled at Adam, even the married ones, and then melt out of the room.
Adam closed the door to her office. “Hannah? You’re not well?”
She gripped the edge of her chair. She needed to respond, but she couldn’t breathe.
She forced words through her constricted airways. “Need a minute—start without me.”
“Apart from I love you, three little words I have never in my life heard you say before are start without me.” Adam strode across to her. “What happened?”
“Nothing. Busy.”
He walked round her desk, spun her chair so that she was facing him and dropped to his haunches in front of her. “You’re shaking.”
Her fingers were tingling. Her chest hurt.
