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My strangled laugh echoes around the bathroom.
Not real. This doesn’t feel real.
But that little plus sign says otherwise, and let’s be honest… deep down I knew. The tiredness, the morning sickness. The mood swings and the swelling hardness of my belly. Giving up alcohol and coffee ‘just because’. And my periods have often skipped months, but I knew.
Oh, I knew. And I want to keep this baby.
The test clatters to the floor as I cup my small bump. The room swims, and I breathe in, breathe out. In, out. Slow and steady.
…In.
…Out.
Maybe it will be okay. Rufus Grangemoor didn’t wantme, that’s true, but maybe he’ll feel differently about our child. Maybe he’ll feel this overwhelming rush of love for our baby too.
We could be one of those ultra modern families, co-parenting together on good terms. As friends.
Ignoring the slice of longing in my chest, I force myself up onto wobbly legs. Turning sideways, I frown at the bathroom mirror, but in this loose red dress, you could never tell my wholelife is changing. When I drag the fabric taut against my body,thenyou can see it. It’s so obvious now that I’m ready to admit it.
And… he can’t betoosurprised, right? I mean, he was there. An eager participant, if only for that one night.
So I’ll tell Rufus the truth…
But not tonight.
* * *
“Helen.” Rufus straightens in his armchair by the fire, visibly shocked when I join him in the sitting room. It’s been months since we sat together in the evenings, but maybe it’s time to bring a few traditions back.
Hey, maybe one day there’ll be a snuffling baby here with us too. Sounds so cute! And so terrifying.
Gah.
“Hey, boss.” I weave a path between dust-sheet covered furniture, the warmth of the fire already spreading over my cheeks. Above us, the chandelier casts shadows on the ceiling. How do you baby-proof a hotel? Well, I’d better find out. “Mind if I join you?”
He stands up so fast, his cane clatters to the floorboards. Rufus bends down, red-faced, and snatches it up, and wow, I’ve never seen him this flustered. “Of course,” he mutters, limping toward the spare armchair and plumping its cushions. “That would be—of course.” He smacks the fabric like he’s clearing away dust, though the hotel is sparkly clean these days, then retreats as I reach him.
I hide a smile as we both settle in our chairs. Yeah, I’ve stayed away for far too long. Maybe we can’t be lovers, but friends are important too.
The flames dance and flicker. This whole room is drenched in golden warmth, and you’d never guess that outside, it’s a bitter winter. For the first time in ages, I’m cozy. Relaxed.
This will be fine. Itwill.
Rufus Grangemoor is a good man. And even though he broke my heart, I trust him to be there for our baby.
“What are you working on tomorrow?” I ask.
He’s been restless lately, starting projects then tossing them out, never settling on a single painting. It’s fun to hear him wrecking his rejects, but for his sake I hope he starts something he likes soon.
But Rufus frowns at the fire, and says: “Actually, I thought maybe…”
My chest rises and falls as I wait. It’s so quiet in here, I can hear my own soft breaths, and when the painter turns to me, there’s a rawness to his eyes. So much longing.
“I thought maybe you could sit for me again. If you’re willing, of course.”
Model again? My hands twitch automatically for my bump, but Rufus keeps talking quickly. I bury my hands in the armchair cushions.
“Only if you want to. I never want you to feel uncomfortable, swee—Helen. But that’s the only painting worth a damn that I’ve started for months, and I thought…”
