“I don’t know, Pete.”

He comes around the table and crouches next to me. Lifting my chin, he leans close.

“Please, Trish. Can’t we try?”

I stare at his lips. Lips I’ve kissed over and over.

“Maybe,” I whisper.

As if I’ve said yes, he smiles, tips forwards and brushes his lips lightly against mine. It’s so achingly familiar. I don’t want to be alone and pregnant. I’m exhausted from trying so hard. Pete is offering to be here for me and I should be feeling relieved, happy even. But I don’t. I feel numb.

Pete is kissing my neck now. In the past, this would have been our secret code for “I want to take you to bed and ravage you”, but I’m not interested in having sex. That’s not what I need from him right now.

I push Pete away and stand up. “Emma took me to the doctors,” I say as he rises, too.

He puts his hands on my waist and tries to kiss me again. I duck and move to the other side of the table.

“I’ve had some bleeding. I thought maybe I was losing the baby, but it seems to be all right.”

Pete nods and I can see in his eyes he’s still thinking about sex.

“I’m sorry,” he says huskily.

“Pete, you’ll have to go,” I say loudly.

“But”

“I need to rest. I haven’t had much sleep.”

The lustful look leaves his eyes.

“OK,” he says. “Should I come back this evening? I could bring us some of Gino’s.”

My stomach growls. I haven’t had Gino’s for months. Pete used to bring it home every Friday night – when it was “his night to cook”, he joked.

“It’s a nice offer, but not tonight. Sorry, Pete. I… I can’t.”

Pete squints and his jaw clenches.

“Fine,” he mutters, draining his coffee in one gulp. “I can see when I’m not wanted.”

I’d forgotten how often he’d do this. Turn things around to make himself the victim. Rather than annoy me, it weakens my resolve. He’s not as confident as he makes out. And he’s not perfect, which means that I don’t have to be, either.

“We’re having a bit of a working bee here this weekend. Painting the spare room and getting it set up as a nursery. The girls are organizing it. You could… if you’re free and you’d like to come”

“I’d love to.” Pete leaps around the table and throws his arms around me. “Of course I want to help,” he says into my hair. Then he pulls back, grinning. “That was a weird feeling.” He places a hand on my bump. “I could feel it when we hugged.”