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‘I’m always reasonable. It is you, beautiful girl, who’s the unreasonable one.’
I don’t bother challenging him. I don’t even bother scoffing or laughing, but his little comment has just reminded me of something. ‘What’s so reasonable about having my car stolen?’ I ask. ‘And how did you manage it without any key?’
‘Tow truck.’ he replies with absolutely no shame or further explanation.
I reach forward and pick up a few pieces of paper, anything to stop myself from countering his ridiculous claim of not being unreasonable.
‘How was your day?’ he asks.
I try to prevent the slight tensing of my body, scorning myself for the immediate reaction to withdraw from his embrace so he doesn’t sense it. Given his relaxed persona, I don’t need to worry him with trivial, empty threats from his ex-scorned lover. ‘Productive. Shall we make a start?’
He groans but releases me. ‘Suppose so.’
Over the next hour, we sort through endless papers, bills, contracts and invoices. I’ve collated them all in date order, stacked them in neat piles and secured them with elastic bands. Jesse slumps in his office chair and starts fiddling with his computer, and I watch as I finish binding the final pile of papers. He’s guiding his mouse around, his frown a perfect line on his brow. Curious, I get up to go and see what he’s so rapt with, although I suspect I already know. As I walk around his desk, he flicks his eyes quickly to me, and then hastily shuts his screen down.
‘Dinner?’ He stands.
I give him suspicious eyes and lean past him, turning the screen back on. It’s as I thought; baby paraphernalia everywhere. Multiple screens are open, and I glance across the bottom, seeing every manufacturer of baby equipment that you could possibly think of. There’s even one page dedicated to organic nappies. I turn my face to his with a questioning look, but I can’t possibly be cranky with him, especially when he shrugs sheepishly and starts biting at his bottom lip.
‘Just doing a bit of research.’ He actually looks down and starts scuffing his shoes on the office carpet. I melt at his feet. I could hug him. So I do. I embrace his excitement and embrace him. Tightly.
‘I know you’re excited, but could we hold off telling people?’
‘I want to shout about it,’ he complains. ‘Tell everyone.’
You would never know this was the same man. From the arrogant, conceited arsehole the day I met him in this exact office, to this? ‘I know, but I’m only a few weeks. It’s bad luck. Women usually wait until their first scan, at least.’
‘When’s the first scan? I’ll pay. We’ll get one tomorrow.’
I laugh and pull away. ‘It’s far too early for a scan, and anyway, the hospital will do it.
He looks at me like I’ve just grown another head. ‘You are not having my baby in a NHS hospital!’
‘I…’
‘No, Ava. This is not up for discussion. End of.’ It’s that tone—the one I know, for absolutely sure, never to challenge. ‘Never, no way.’ He shakes his head. He’s horrified at the thought, clearly.
‘What do you think they’ll do?’
‘I don’t know, but I’m not giving them the chance.’ He takes my hand and starts leading me from his office.
‘You pay your taxes and so do I. It’s a privilege to have a National Health Service. You should be grateful.’
‘I am, it’s wonderful, but we won’t be utilising it. End of.’
‘Neurotic,’ I mutter, looking up at him on a grin.
My grin is returned, even though I can see he’s trying to remain serious. ‘-ish.’ he replies. ‘I like your dress.’ His eyes wander down the front of my nude structured pencil dress, as do mine.
‘Thank you.’
‘I want to show you something. Come on.’ He opens the door and places his hand on the small of my back to guide me.
‘What?’ I ask, letting my body be gently pushed from his office and down the corridor.
I shiver when I feel his mouth at my ear. ‘You’ll see.’
I’m curious, and I’m also feeling… a little breathless. Just from a few whispered words and his hand on my body, I’m mentally begging for him. Pregnancy might be responsible, or it could just be him. No, it’s the latter, for sure, but combined I could be in a whole heap of sexual trouble.
We pass the members of The Manor in the summer room, Jesse nodding, me smiling sweetly, and make our way up the stairs until we’re walking down the corridor to the extension.
He opens the door to the very last room, the one I fled from, the one I sat on my arse sketching drafts in, and the one in which I received my warning from Sarah. I don’t particularly like this room, but as I’m pushed through and the whole area comes into view, I gasp.
It’s no longer an empty shell of raw plaster and a rough wooden floor. It’s now a palatial space, garnished in sumptuous materials, all in black and gold. I gingerly wander in, gazing around, drinking in the stunning space. The huge bed that I sketched has come to life and is dominating the room, dressed in pale gold satin with huge, black lace calla lilies embroidered across the material. The windows are adorned with heavy gold drapes of the same material, and the floor is soft and squidgy under my heels. I look down and find I’m standing on a gigantic plush rug, so thick that I can’t see the tops of my feet. I trail my eyes across the walls, finding the paper I picked on one wall and the three remaining walls painted in a dull gold to match the bedding and curtains. It’s almost an exact replica of my rough drawing.
