But would that be so bad? In her head, Jules heard Preston’s voice telling Vivian that the child had a right to know its father. And Vivian had seemed open to reconciling with Robert before the whole infidelity thing had come out.

What if she relented? Maybe that would be the best thing for everyone. It’d be better for the kid, who wouldn’t grow up thinking that his—or her—father had never wanted anything to do with her. Or him.

But maybe…

There was one possibility that made Jules feel ice-cold inside, and she voiced it before she could stop herself. “What if he changes his mind?”

“That’s what I’m worried about.” Vivian gestured angrily at her phone. “Didn’t you hear me say ‘I want this done’?”

“Yes,” Jules said and then added, “No, I mean, not about the baby, about—about your relationship or something.”

She got an incredulous look.

Jules didn’t see why the idea was so outlandish. Yes, the divorce would be finalized by the time the baby arrived, but it wasn’t beyond the realm of possibility that Robert would change his mind. What if he wanted Vivian back? What if she took him back for the kid’s sake?

“What if he does?” Vivian said coldly.

“Nothing,” she mumbled, retreating in the face of Vivian’s clear reluctance to discuss the issue.

But Vivian might change her mind too. And if she did, if she took Robert back and became part of a happy little nuclear family, the agony Jules had suffered last night at the ball—watching all those men watching Vivian—would be a cakewalk in comparison. Just thinking about it made her feel physically ill now that she knew…

Knew what?

Jules noted the time on her phone. “Um, I need to take my shoes and accessories back to Du Jour UK. The office opens at eight. I’ll just call Jimmy, if that’s okay.”

And if it wasn’t okay, she’d take the Underground. She’d hitchhike. She’d walk in her bare feet. She needed to get out of here for an hour or so, needed to breathe.

“Fine.” Vivian gave her a long, inscrutable look. She extended her hand for the phone. “Don’t forget our lunch reservation today.” Yesterday morning she’d had Jules book a table for two at Core in Notting Hill, citing a desperate need to get the hell out of the townhouse. She hadn’t seemed interested in meeting with any associates for this one. “Be back here by noon.”

Jules rose to hand her the phone. “Do you want me to make breakfast?”

“No.” Vivian’s cheeks went a little paler, and a shudder ran along her frame.