“No, you don’t! The reason I didn’t tell you yet is because I,” she pursed her lips and looked away, “. . . I still feel weird about what happened . . . between us. It was so foolish of me and I didn’t think you’d want to hear from me for a while.”

It was true that they hadn’t spoken since Michelle had pleaded with Derek to stop calling after they’d been together at the hotel. But for her to imagine he didn’t want to hear from her, under any circumstance, was ludicrous.

“So, what are you going to do?” he asked.

“What do you mean? I’m going to have Geoffrey’s baby and he and I are going to raise it. Perhaps have another one or two in a few years.”

“You’re going to pretend it’s his?”

“It is his, Derek. There is no doubt of that. Accept that, now and forever.”

“But—”

Michelle snatched her bag and opened the car door. “Listen to me. This is my body. I know it, its rhythms, when I ovulate and when this child was conceived. The baby is not yours. Get it? I don’t want to have this discussion with you, not now and not ever again.”

“What about what I want?”

She flung the bag into the car, spun around and glared at him. “Ok! Let’s talk about what you want. Shall we tell Geoffrey and Faye about our idiotic little liaison? When I was behaving like a teenager who couldn’t get her best friend to do what she wanted so she pretended she had another best friend for a few days? Shall we then have a paternity test to prove to you that Geoffrey is the father? What else would you like? Have I missed anything?”

Derek felt winded. His mouth was dry. He swallowed. “You’re heartless.”

Michelle sighed and reached out to touch his forearm. He moved away.

“No, I’m not, Derek. I’m really sorry I gave you reason to think there was anything more than friendship for us. I messed up, badly. I’ve acknowledged that. And apologised. Several times. But that’s where it ends.”

As he walked away, his thoughts were not about the baby but about how Michelle had broken his heart—again.