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She finished the last of the tea, grateful that the usual nausea didn’t come. Her hand rested again on her stomach and she glanced down.
When would she feel the baby kick for the first time?
The errant thought made her smile. Maybe it wouldn’t be so long before she felt joy again after all. Despite the horror of what had happened with the baby’s father, every time she thought about the baby her pulse jumped with excitement and anticipation.
She sighed. As usual she was getting ahead of herself. At the moment, the only sign of her pregnancy was incredibly tender breasts and the fact that for the last few days she’d been hideously sick every morning.
She blinked furiously as her eyes began to glaze over again. Grabbing her bag, she pulled out her tissues. It must be the pregnancy hormones. Her emotions were all over the place. Yes, she was ecstatic about the baby, but she was also dreading having to deal with its father.
Ali had called her two days ago to tell her Monroe had been tested and now knew the truth. He was the father.
Jessie blew her nose and stuffed her tissues back in her bag. All right, sooner or later she’d have to deal with him. As much as she hated to admit it, she knew he would want to have a part in the baby’s life.
But that didn’t mean he had to have a part in hers, she thought bitterly. She wasn’t the romantic fool she’d been just a week ago—blinded by her optimism, her immaturity and her love from seeing him for what he really was. A hard man who’d been forced to make hard choices in his life. A man who would never trust and appreciate her, had probably never really trusted or appreciated anybody. Over the last few days, she had accepted the fact that a part of her heart would always be lost to him, but she couldn’t risk her happiness—or her child’s happiness—on a man who could never love her back.
Here she was thinking about him again when she should be out celebrating her new job, the new life she was about to embark on.
Reaching into her bag, Jessie pulled out her cell phone and started keying in a text message to Ali. Her eyes jerked up when someone slid into the booth opposite.
‘Hello, Red.’
The phone slid out of her hand and thudded onto the Formica table.
Monroe had been following Jessie since she left Cullen’s.
He’d caught the first train out of the Hamptons that morning, as soon as he’d gotten the call from Carole Jackson. He still couldn’t quite believe the lady was planning a major debut show of his work in her ritzy uptown gallery.
He had checked into the room Jackson had booked him at the Waldorf that morning, feeling like a vagrant in his ragged denims and faded T-shirt. He’d put off the meeting with Carole and her staff until tomorrow, though. He had more important business to conduct in New York and it couldn’t wait any longer.
He’d tracked down Jessie’s whereabouts and raced down to SoHo, the nerves over what lay ahead nearly making him miss his stop on the subway.
He’d spotted Jessie leaving Cullen’s. Seeing her again had made his heart pound like a jackhammer. But he hadn’t had the guts to go up to her on the street. When she’d walked into the nearby coffee shop, it had seemed perfect. He could confront her there. But when she’d slipped into the booth, still he’d held back. Even after seven long days of going over everything in his head, he didn’t know what the hell to say to her to make it right. The creeping feeling in the back of his mind, that she might have had an abortion, wouldn’t go away. He couldn’t let that cloud things, but it did. He’d hate himself even more if she had, because that would be his fault, too.
He tried to plaster a smile on his face. Look easy, don’t look desperate, was the only thing that kept going through his head as he sat down opposite her.
‘You look great, Red.’
The ice in Jessie’s chest turned to fire.
‘You bastard.’ Grabbing her phone, she turned. She had to get out of here.
He leant over and took her arm.
‘Let go of me,’ she snarled, trying to yank her arm free.
He didn’t let go, but got up and slid onto the seat beside her. ‘Calm down, Red.’
She glared at him. Boxed in. ‘Don’t you tell me to calm down, you…you…’ she couldn’t think of a word bad enough ‘…you bastard.’
‘All right, fine. Letting go.’ Monroe lifted his hands, looking defeated.
‘Get out of my way.’ She tried to push past him.
He didn’t budge. ‘Jess, we need to talk.’
‘We do not need to talk,’ she snapped. ‘There is absolutely nothing I want to say to you.’
‘I figured that,’ he said as he ploughed his fingers through his hair. ‘But there’s something I’ve gotta say to you.’
