Stuart and I coexist in pleasant, respectful politeness. Fleeting random moments present themselves, when I could open up a conversation with him about his decision to collect Camilla and Louise from the airport. But I hesitate each time, and the opportunity dissipates with a change of topic or a child’s interruption. I remind myself that I had no right to read his notes anyway, that there was nothing incriminating to worry about. But I can’t help feeling that there is.

As I tuck the children into bed that evening, it strikes me as weird that Nina and I are interlinked, yet again. Her children will be related to mine. Our lives remain entwined.

I make my way downstairs when they’ve drifted off, ready to break the news to Stuart. But he is not alone.

Camilla is with him in the kitchen. They both have their backs to me, but Stuart is nodding as Camilla speaks.

“It seemed the best thing to do,” she says. “It’s what she would’ve wanted.”

I hesitate.

Are they talking about me? Judging me as a mother?

They must sense me as they both turn around.

Seeing the two of them looking so cozy yanks back memories of Nina and Camilla. Talking. Shutting me out. It physically hurts, so much so that I clutch my stomach. I have a genuine moment’s panic before I reassure myself there’s nothing wrong with the baby.

“Are you all right?” says Stuart.

“Can I have a word please, Stuart?”

“Sure thing,” he says. “Are the kids all right?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll come back another time when it’s more convenient,” says Camilla with her irritating, oh-so-understanding smile.

Stuart sees her to the back door. He stands and waves as she heads back to our bloody guesthouse where she has seriously outstayed her welcome.

I feel strangely close to tears, like a child who has to share their favorite toy with another child—a sibling or cousin—who they didn’t even invite around to their home.

Stuart surprises me. He hugs me, pulling me in close and it feels the most natural it ever has between us.

“I’m pregnant,” I say.

He releases me. “What did you say?”

I repeat myself.

What I’m growing to appreciate about Stuart is that he’s a fully rounded, responsible adult. Not that (I hope) I’ve set my sights too low. He doesn’t immediately react with any negative clichés or assume that it’s my problem which he’ll try to wriggle out of. He doesn’t ask if it’s his or insult my intelligence by asking if I’m sure. He trusts that I wouldn’t drop such a bombshell without being certain.

Nonetheless, he’s silent and stares at me for a few seconds.

“Take your time,” I say. “It was a shock for me, too. A pleasant one, of course, especially given my history, but clearly not how either one of us would have planned it and it’s awful timing.”

“Yes, I am shocked. I don’t know what to say right now but...life is precious. We’ve both learned that.”