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She stopped, midway to her front door, her expression shifting slightly as she thought of Vitalo Katrakis, and she saw him as he’d been two weeks earlier in his office, his manner so cold, so ice-like, that it had killed something inside of her.
The father of her child barely remembered her. How would he feel when she told him about the baby they’d conceived? And when, precisely, would she get around to doing that?
When the baby was born, she thought with a nod of resolve. Once there was a living, breathing reality to face, she would face it, but for now, she could hide her head in the sand a little longer. And allow him to do the same.
Her fingers were icy-cold and she fumbled the keys a little as she pulled them from her handbag. She slid the big old brass key into the door and then it dropped to the ground. “Shoot,” she murmured, crouching down to collect it. Only when she stood did she become cognizant of the fact she was no longer alone.
A pair of very shiny shoes and dark grey trousers led to a narrow waist and a crisp white shirt beneath a thick grey jacket. Before she’d even reached his shoulders, she knew who it was and braced herself for visual impact.
Sure enough, as she looked higher, her eyes latched to Vitalo’s and all the wind seemed to thwomp from her lungs, rushing out of her and leaving her struggling for air.
“What are you doing here?” She asked, thinking back two weeks to the way he’d showed her from his office, his obvious lack of concern something she’d never forget.
“We need to speak,” he said, the words flattened of any emotion.
But he’d made it obvious he couldn’t be bothered with her and pride had her shaking her head. “We have nothing to speak about.”
“Haven’t we?” His eyes bore into hers as though he could see all the fragments of her soul, and because she knew she was being dishonest, she hesitated for a moment, long enough for him to take the keys from her and open the door. Long enough for him to scoop up her shopping bags and precede her into the hallway of her home.
But every second that passed gave her a chance to fight for her sense of control, so that when she stepped into the corridor and flicked the lights on, she was able to meet him with at least an expression of equanimity.
“I don’t have long,” she said, feeling good to return the cold rejoinder to him. “Say what you’ve come to say and then leave.”
If he was surprised by her abruptness, he didn’t show it. “Am I the father?”
Bella had thought herself out of breath before, but now she was almost drowning. She gaped, staring at him, and then leaned back, sagging against the door, her eyes almost pleading when they lifted to his. “I…”
“It is not a difficult question.” His expression gave nothing away. “Given the timing, I presume I must be?”
Still, she couldn’t speak.
“Unless you went to bed with another man quickly after leaving me, but then, why come and see me in Athens?”
She closed her mouth, but still didn’t say a word.
“So?” He prompted, very still, very watchful. “Is it true?”
“How did you… how … who told you?” The words were croaky.
“Does that matter?”
It didn’t. Not immediately, anyway. Bella pushed off the door, straightening and mobilizing. She stalked past him, into the kitchen where she flicked the kettle on out of habit. “I tried to tell you.”
“Not hard enough.” The words contained every hint of judgement she’d thrown at herself these past two weeks.
“Harder than you deserved.” Her retort was caustic.
She glared at him then wished she hadn’t, because he was simply staring at her, and her pulse was thread, and all the air she’d lost moments earlier came rushing back, making her light-headed and woozy.
“I tried,” she said quietly, reaching for two mugs and dropping a tea bag in each.
“It is not hard to say the words: I’m pregnant.”
“It’s harder than you think. Besides, you hardly gave me a chance,” she pointed out, filling the teacups with boiled water.
“I’m pregnant. That is the only thing you should have said to me.”
“You had ‘two minutes’,” she reminded him, mimicking his tone.
