Shuffling back to gain some distance from Pete, I take a deep breath and decide to jump right in.

“I found out about”

Pete raises a hand and interrupts. “Guess where I booked us for dinner.”

My heart is thumping. How could he stop me like that? Already, I feel like I’m not going to be able to get the words out.

“Where?” I ask eventually.

Pete grins. “It’s this little Japanese dumpling place someone recommended recently. I stopped in to check it out on my way here. A little tacky with all these funny wooden booths and flags flying everywhere, but they were surprisingly full, which is a good sign – only just managed to squeeze us in.”

It has to be the restaurant Scott took me to. Which is almost laughable if it weren’t so awful. At least I have a renewed sense of commitment. There’s no way I can go out to dinner with Pete now.

“I found out the results of the DNA tests.”

“Oh!” Pete grabs my hand and holds it against his chest. “Did I win?”

Did he win? Is that seriously what he just said? Should I be angry or horrified or amused?

“No,” I say flatly. “Elliot is the father.”

As my words sink in, his expression changes rapidly from excitement to horror to complete and utter shutdown.

“Shit,” he whispers, letting his grip on my hand go limp.

I pull my hand away. “Sorry,” I murmur. “If it’s any consolation, I had hoped it was you.”

Pete blinks once, twice, three times. “Well that’s that, then,” he says.

I study his face, hoping it’ll change in some way, that he’ll reach out for me, tell me he still wants to be involved, that he loves me, that this won’t be the end.

Nothing alters. His face is blank, as if a curtain has been wrenched closed between us.

“Pete…” My voice dies. I have no idea what to say.

Slowly, Pete gets to his feet. “I think dinner is off,” he says quietly. “Don’t you?” Then without another word, he walks out of the room.

I stare at the empty doorway. “And there he goes,” I say, my voice hollow.

The baby gives one giant kick in agreement.

30

Wahoo, it’s Christmas.

I open one eye and quickly close it again. I’m seriously considering changing up my routine, especially as I barely slept last night. Maybe I could spend Christmas Day in bed instead. Order some takeaways, watch a crap movie, eat a ton of ice cream. Surely I deserve a dispensation.

The problem is I need to pee and my pyjamas are soaked with sweat I’m so hot. Kicking off the covers, I try to keep my eyes closed in the hope I’ll forget about my bursting bladder and doze, but my eyelids keep fluttering open of their own accord.