She touched his arm. ‘It’s OK to feel like this. I’d be bitterly hurt if Alex tried to use me that way.’

It took several moments but eventually he turned to face her. His eyes were dull. ‘Thank you.’ He returned to his seat and she returned to hers, both picking up their wine glasses like any two people in a normal social situation.

‘She always was a princess,’ he commented. ‘She had childhood leukaemia and her parents were terrified they’d lose her. They, and her sister Zelda, got used to treating her as special.’ His smile twisted bitterly. ‘When we were together I didn’t notice how entitled it made her because, I guess, she saw me as an extension of her. If the rain came, she made sure someone gave her an umbrella big enough for both of us.’ He gave a short laugh. ‘I’m not explaining very well. But she’s pretty and can be sweet. It wasn’t until my issues came out and she so readily discarded me that I realised how little empathy she has for others. I’ve no idea how she’ll learn to put a baby first.’ He sighed. ‘I feel like an expensive pair of shoes.’

Laurel watched him slump in his chair, looking less tightly wound now he was letting everything out. ‘How so?’

A smile flickered in the corner of his mouth. ‘Pippa’s parents bought her some gorgeous designer shoes. She loved them. Lavished care on them. Showed them off. Changed her favourite outfits to go with them. Then they got badly scratched and there was no longer any point to them, in her eyes. She didn’t take them to Timpsons to see if the scratch could be repaired. She dumped them and went out to buy replacements.’ He took a reflective mouthful of wine. ‘Think of me as those shoes. She hasn’t yet found the perfect replacement so she’s lowering her standards to get me out of the bin and find a way to cover up the scratch.’

‘Thing is, shoes don’t have feelings,’ Laurel commented. She realised with surprise that her glass was empty and, on inspection, so was the bottle.

‘She can’t think I do, either.’ Grady followed the direction of her gaze. ‘I’ll get another.’ He left the room and returned with a second bottle and topped up both glasses.

After a generous slug, Laurel sighed. ‘Infertility is shitty, isn’t it? You’re denied something fundamental, something others take for granted. You feel as if you’ve let your partner down. When you’d give anything for a planned pregnancy, it stings every time you hear about an accidental one. And when it’s your ex …’

Grady snorted. ‘… She thinks you’ll leap in to take the role of father because the real one’s unsatisfactory.’