Why can’t I be more gentle and kind and, well, more emotional?

“What does that mean?” Elliot asks, looking confused.

“It means that around five months ago when this baby was conceived, I had sex with you and one other guy. There’s a fifty per cent chance you’re the dad.”

He’s still blinking like he’s got something stuck in his eye.

“Sorry to spring this on you,” I say quietly.

“But we used… I mean…” He drops his head into his hands and groans. “It was the split condom, wasn’t it?”

I say nothing.

He lifts his head to look at me. “I should have”

“We were both to blame.”

I don’t tell him that I figured I wasn’t the fertile type having had a few slip-ups over the years without repercussions. I also don’t tell him that his chances of being the father are possibly lower than half. Pete and I had sex twice that one fateful night and we made no effort to use contraception whatsoever, being in the throes of a passionate reunion. Presumably this means he’s twice as likely to have planted the seed, so to speak. Or maybe not. I might be great with numbers, but my memory of reproductive science in school is vague.

“I thought we were… I didn’t realize you were seeing someone else,” Elliot says, his face still in his hands.

“An ex-boyfriend turned up and we ended up having some drinks and sex. It was a one-off thing.”

He lifts his head and puts a hand on my thigh.

“I forgive you,” he says softly.

I don’t think I’ve done anything that needs forgiving, but I keep quiet. I don’t want a repeat of the conversation with Pete.

Elliot lifts his hand off my thigh, shuffles closer and puts his arm around my shoulders. He pulls me towards him so I’m leaning on his chest. For a second I recall crying on Scott’s chest, his lavender smell, his hand stroking my hair.

“I’m here for you, Trish,” Elliot says. “Whatever you need. And I really hope the baby is mine, but if it isn’t, I’ll still be yours, if you want me.”

I knew this was going to be worse than telling Pete. What the hell am I going to do now?

I let him hold me for several more seconds then sit up and shift away.

“Elliot, I’m telling you so you can get a genetic test done. I figure the right thing to do here is find out who the biological father is so that in the future, when this baby asks, ‘Who’s my dad?’, I can give him or her an accurate answer.”

Elliot nods. “Fair enough.”