When I came back, pale and shaking, my hair damp with perspiration, Tom was sitting back in his chair, looking out of the window. The waitress had cleared away his coffee and juice and there was just a large glass of water waiting for me.

I sat down and apologized.

“So, Emma,” he said. “When were you going to tell me you were pregnant?”

CHAPTER 34

Emma

I stared at Tom. “What? What are you talking about?”

His eyes were cool as they met mine. “You’re pregnant,” he said. “When were you going to tell me? Or did you think I wouldn’t find out?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Come on, Emma.” His voice was calm and steady, just the opposite to how I felt. “Don’t even think of denying it. You’re what? Midthirties? Married a long time with no children? We slept together a few weeks ago.” His eyes didn’t leave mine and I knew he remembered every moment. “I don’t believe in coincidences.”

Well, nor do I, I wanted to say.

“What makes you think I’m pregnant?”

He said nothing at first, then leaned toward me and said in a voice so low that I automatically leaned forward to hear him, “Well, I could tell you that there’s a look that pregnant women have. You’re pale. You have a greenish pallor. That’ll be the sickness, right? You should probably try to eat something, even though you don’t want to. Perhaps give some plain toast a try?”

My head swirled. Was he threatening me or giving me medical advice?

He smiled then. “Or I could just tell you that I’d seen a book in your bag.”

I could’ve kicked myself. Shoved into my open handbag on the chair beside me was a book called Pregnancy: Week by Week.

“It’s not yours,” I said. “It’s Harry’s.”

“How come you hadn’t had children before?”

“Not that it’s anything to do with you,” I said, “but we decided to wait for a while before having a baby.”

“So you’re saying that your decision to have a baby coincided with you sleeping with me? I don’t buy that.” He drummed his fingers on the table. “You know I have a son, don’t you?”

“Yes, you told me.”