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‘Wait a minute, Linc. I’ll come with you.’ Jessie shoved the diary back into the drawer and dashed to the closet, trying to ignore the flock of birds now swooping around in the pit of her stomach. She slipped on a pair of sandals, tied her hair back and began to plan how she was going to buy a pregnancy test at the chemist without Linc seeing her.
The stick was pink. A rich, lurid, candyfloss pink.
Jessie stared at the thin plastic strip in her hand. Dazed, her mind racing in a thousand different directions, she reached up and pulled the instruction leaflet off the top of the vanity. Had she read it wrong?
But she hadn’t, and there was the proof in black and white—and pink.
She was pregnant.
Her fingers began to shake and she dropped the stick on the bathroom floor. It clattered, the noise deafening in the silence.
She was going to have Monroe’s baby.
She looked down at her belly. Placing warm palms over it, she began to rock. What had they done? She loved him, desperately, passionately, unconditionally. And she loved this baby, too. The thought was so intense, so shocking, so sudden, that the tears started to flow down her cheeks.
But how would she tell him? What would he say? He wouldn’t even talk to her about how he felt. He’d never even told her that he loved her. What if he didn’t want children? What if the reason he hadn’t come to see the baby was that he hated babies?
Jessie shook herself, pulled some tissues out of the dispenser on the vanity and blew her nose, wiped her eyes.
Don’t be silly. He adored Emmy. He was great with kids. He didn’t hate babies or children. Something else was going on there, she was sure of it. But they’d only known each other for two months, had only been going out for six weeks and for over a week now they’d been avoiding each other. Maybe they had a chance of sorting the whole mess out, but bringing a baby into the equation was bound to make it so much more complicated.
As she sat on the toilet seat in the brightly lit bathroom, the worries just kept flooding through her mind.
What were Monroe’s plans? She didn’t have any real clue. What if her worst fears were true and he was planning even now to get on his bike and go? A single comment to Ali about whether Jessie was going to London or not next week hardly constituted a commitment on his part. She hadn’t let herself think about what would happen if he did leave. What she would do. Until now. Now she had to. She hugged her belly again. And murmured a promise to her baby.
‘We’ll tell Daddy tomorrow. But whatever he says, whatever he does, Mummy will love you. Mummy wants you.’
‘So let me get this straight. You’re pregnant and I’m supposed to be the daddy?’
Jessie recoiled at the harshness in Monroe’s voice. She had expected the shock she’d seen in his face a moment before. But she hadn’t expected what had followed. He’d said nothing for what seemed like ages. Then his eyes had gone dark and bitter and he’d hurled the accusatory words at her.
‘Yes.’ Her voice trembled.
It had taken her all morning to pluck up the courage to come over to the apartment and talk to him. She’d wanted desperately to tell Ali, to ask her advice, but had decided that Monroe had the right to know first.
She hadn’t slept all night, the questions hurtling around in her brain like dodgem cars, crashing against each other but never finding anywhere to settle.
Would he be angry? Would he be happy?
It scared her to realise she just didn’t know. They’d certainly never talked about family or the future together. But of all the scenarios that had gone through her head while she’d toyed with her breakfast and waited for Linc and Ali and the kids to head off to the beach, nothing had prepared her for the coldness she saw in his eyes now. He looked like a stranger. Not the man she knew, not the man she loved.
‘I don’t think so,’ he said.
‘What do you mean?’ Jessie felt her stomach pitch and roll. What was he saying?
‘You really want me to spell it out?’ The words dripped with contempt.
‘Yes, I think I do.’ Her voice broke, her throat began to close, but she kept her back ramrod straight. This had to be some kind of misunderstanding, didn’t it? Where was the warm, caring, vulnerable man who’d held her with such care over the past weeks, had made love to her with such passion? Why was
he looking at her like that?
‘I’m not the damn father. I can’t be. If you’re pregnant, it’s someone else’s kid.’
The words were brutal and ugly, but it was how he felt. Monroe could see the tears starting to leak out of her eyes, the stunned horror in her face, but he didn’t care. Monroe Latimer was too busy chasing his own demons.
He’d been through hell. He’d tried to leave, a dozen times. Had even got to the stage of packing his duffel bag. But then, he had to unpack it again. Like a damn lovesick fool. And it was all her fault. In his misery, he’d persuaded himself that she’d tricked him into this. He didn’t do commitment and this was why. It caused too much damn pain. When she’d walked through the door, he’d been so overjoyed to see her, it had made him feel pathetic.
Then she’d made her announcement.
