Just from watching her I can feel myself spiralling again. Someone has to do something and it has to be me. I walk over to the pacing path Ellis is running in my living room floor and wait for her to start back towards me again. When she does, I’m ready to catch her and lightly hold her elbows. Her eyes are rimmed red.

If she’s truly in crisis, why has she turned to me? She never answered my previous calls, and she was so adamant about only spending a single night together. I’m certain there are people she is closer to whom she would rather lean on, so why come to her ex? Why now?

“Ellis, what’s wrong?” I ask while she moves to start pacing again.

“I can’t just blurt it out.” She gasps as if I’m asking her to do something absurd.

“Rip the Band-Aid off El.”

“They’re called plasters, silly American.” She chokes out between her heavy breaths, I can’t help but laugh because there she is. Full of sarcasm and wit.

“Liam I’m pregnant. You’re going to be a dad.” Her hands fly to her mouth as soon as the words slip past.

Then silence.

Nothing but silence.

Strangling, deafening, charged silence.

Chapter Seven

Ellis

“You’re going to be a dad.”

Why the hell did I say it like that? I had a whole speech prepared in my car. Not only was I prepared, but I had rehearsed it when I sat in the driveway for twenty minutes before knocking. But no! I ignored all the prep work I did and instead just blurted out the words like some inexperienced teenager, never mind an adult with a business.

Liam is going to hate me and kick me out of his home, I’m sure of it. That’s the main reason I got myself so tongue-tied in the first place. Why does his place have to be this fancy? It looks like a ready-made home straight out of a magazine and I am supposed to behave like a mature controlled woman. Not a chance, the man has what look like very expensive sconces for crying out loud. This is not some bachelor pad, it’s a house where I can picture a family. Therein lies the problem: I saw it and pictured our family here.

Our family? It’s ludicrous. But I’d love to have a home like this. I can see Jack’s bike on the path. A little row of shoes by the door arranged in size order. I can feel myself melting. I blame the hormones. I give it two more seconds before he comes to his senses and throws me out and wishes he never let me in the door today – or last month for that matter.