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A noise caught his attention and he deduced that his house guest was also awake. Moments later he entered the kitchen, where April was opening a cupboard.
‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you. I wanted some water before I head off to the centre.’
‘Hang on. First you need breakfast.’
‘I thought you didn’t do breakfast?’
‘I don’t usually have breakfast at home,’ he agreed. ‘But I don’t usually have guests. I’m sure I can rustle up something. Scrambled eggs on toast?’
April shook her head. ‘I’d rather avoid scrambled eggs, just in case...’ Her voice trailed off. ‘Pregnant women are advised to avoid undercooked eggs. So eggs are fine, but they need to be thoroughly cooked.’
‘OK. How about an omelette? Or I have some cereal... I’ll go shopping at some point today if you make a list.’
‘Cereal is fine. And why don’t I shop and cook this week? I really don’t mind.’
‘OK.’
The domesticity of their conversation was surreal—as was assembling two bowls, a selection of cereal, making coffee for two, and eating at the table rather than standing up at the kitchen counter.
‘I’ve been thinking,’ April said as she poured milk onto chocolate flavour cereal stars. ‘I’d like to meet your family.’
The request caught him on the hop, and without thought his lips opened to voice emphatic refusal. ‘No.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because they don’t need to be involved at this stage. I’ve never taken a woman home to meet my family and I don’t want them to get the wrong impression.’
Or the right one, for that matter.
‘I understand that—but we could say it’s for the article. I did ask you if I could meet them at the outset.’
‘And I said no. I don’t like the idea of my family being interviewed about me.’
‘Well, it isn’t about your likes or dislikes. If you are serious about applying for sole custody of a baby, then your family are an integral part of the set-up. I need to meet them.’
‘I understand that, and if we discover you are pregnant then you can.’
Even if the thought sent a shiver of discomfort down his spine. Not because he thought Louise and Bill would disgrace him, but because he didn’t want April to see how much of an outsider he was in his own family. He had no doubt they would welcome a baby—would love a baby—but that wouldn’t change the fundamental distance between him and his adoptive parents.
April shook her head. ‘I need to meet them now—see what they are like now, when they have no stake in being anything other than what they are. At the end of this week if I am pregnant I can’t stay here—can’t meet your family knowing they’ll be judging me for my decision. But I want to meet them—want to know that if there is a baby, and if he ends up with you, he has a good family. Grandparents who will support you and love him. I want to meet them.’
There was anguish in her voice now, and his chest banded in sympathy even as he tried to understand why she would make a decision like this.
‘OK. I’ll set it up.’ Marcus pushed his bowl away in an abrupt movement of sheer frustration. ‘But I wish you’d tell me why you’re doing this, April. I don’t get it.’
‘You don’t have to.’ Weariness slumped her shoulders for a moment, and then she rose to her feet. ‘Thank you for agreeing. I promise I’ll be discreet. Now, I’d better go.’
CHAPTER TWELVE
APRIL GLANCED DOWN at the message on her phone.
Meeting arranged. Dinner tonight at family house. M
A flutter of nerves touched her but she quelled them; there was no need for her to worry about the impression she made. This was about her having some information in case she was pregnant. With the key words being ‘in case’.
Somehow over the course of the day, as she had cooked and scrubbed, sorted out food donations and thrown herself into hel
ping the hundreds of displaced and hungry people who’d come to the centre, her own worries had receded and some perspective had returned. It hadn’t helped that careful calculation of her cycle indicated that it was definitely possible that a baby was on the cards, but the sheer business of the day had meant there was no time to dwell on it.
