I do know how it is. This was something I faced regularly when we were together. Work first. Trish second. I shouldn’t be so disappointed.

“I’ll phone you early next week.”

Pete has his distracted voice on. He’s probably reading a work email or jotting down some notes.

“OK,” I say, getting in the car and trying to sound chilled. “Bye.” I hang up and shove my phone in my bag. “Sorry about that,” I say brightly.

“Bad news?” Scott asks.

He’s seen right through me.

“Nothing I haven’t heard before,” I say in a clipped voice.

Scott starts the car, reverses out of the space and pulls out onto the road.

“Anything you want to get off your chest?”

Oh, what the hell.

“It was Pete. Ex-boyfriend and possible father of my child.”

“Ah.” Scott pauses. “I thought it was best I avoided that topic tonight.”

“Very wise.”

“Does he know?” Scott asks, his eyes on the road.

“Yeah. He freaked out initially. Wanted nothing to do with it. Then he turns up at my door earlier this week and says he wants to work things out.”

“And what did you say?”

I shake my head and take a moment to reply.

“I thought he was the one. We were together for so long – lived together, talked about travelling the world together, starting a family together, all that stuff.” I pause. Am I really going to offload this shit on Scott? Oh, why not? Since we seem to be so freaking honest with each other. “He left about two years ago because he was offered some big fancy CEO role in Sydney. Dream job. Dream location. He said it had been the most difficult decision of his life, but an opportunity like this only comes along once in a lifetime.” I decide to leave out the sex with someone else part.

“Did he ask you to go with him?”

“Nope. He said he couldn’t expect me to drop everything and join him. It wasn’t fair on me because he knew his focus would be on his job. He couldn’t be worrying about me, too.”

“The fucker,” Scott mutters.

I grin. “That’s what my friends called him, too.”

“But he came home from Sydney and you got back together?” Scott lifts his eyebrows and looks pointedly at my belly.

I grimace. “He turned up at the bar where I often go with my friends. Just walked in and sat next to me. I tried to act casual. We had too many drinks and ended up back at my place.”

“And had sex,” Scott states.

He sounds unimpressed with my story so far. Not that I blame him.