Jess watched as comprehension filtered through the self-assurance that was so much part and parcel of his personality. The easy, sexy smile faded, he frowned, then the frown cleared and the colour drained from his face.
‘What are you saying?’
Jess thought that he knew very well what she was saying but he just didn’t want to believe it.
He’d had that situation with Caitlin. He’d found himself cornered into a marriage proposal he hadn’t wanted because, at the end of the day, he wasn’t into commitment. What must he be thinking now? Was he terrified that he was about to find himself in another corner?
‘Curtis, I’m pregnant. I took the test this morning.’ She shifted her eyes from his shocked, ashen face. ‘I know you didn’t come here expecting this, but you had to know. I don’t... I’m not expecting anything from you,’ she rushed on clumsily. ‘I realise that this must be your worst nightmare come true, but I’m not Caitlin.’ She laughed nervously and slid her eyes back to his face. No change there. He still looked as though he’d spotted that the sky was falling down and there was no shelter in sight.
‘You’re not Caitlin...’
‘I don’t want anything from you.’ She slapped her hands on her thighs and began standing. ‘So, now that I’ve told you...er...if you still want to stay for some pasta...or you might just want to go away and think about...er...things... No rush—you can call me when you’re ready.’
She began walking away, but she didn’t make it to the door. He was there in front of her, barring the exit, and the colour had returned to his face.
‘Go away?’he grated in outraged disbelief. ‘No rush?Call you when I’m ready? Maybe next week...? Next month...? Next year...? Oh, I’m going to be staying for some pasta, Jess. I’m not going anywhere any time soon, until we’ve dealt with this situation!’
After the most stressful few hours she had ever had, Jess suddenly saw red. She leaned aggressively towards him, eyes narrowed.
‘Dealt with this situation?How do you propose to do that, Curtis? There’s nothing to deal with. It’s happening and we just have to accept that!’
‘I need another drink. Something less polite than a glass of wine.’ He raked his fingers through his hair and stared at her.
How could this be happening? How had thishappened? He knew she was right. Hehadfumbled. At the time he’d registered that protection had not gone according to plan but then the thought had been lost and had not resurfaced. And now here they were and, although the bomb had been dropped, he still couldn’t believe that life as he knew it was about to implode.
But she must be as shocked as he was. Her colour was hectic and her deep blue eyes, always so soft and laughing, were filled with apprehension, anger at him and uncertainty.
Pain twisted, and shame that he had allowed himself to lose control, to hurt her with badly constructed phrases, poured through him.
‘Let’s go into the kitchen, Jess,’ he said rather more quietly, ‘and talk. Let’s not forget the most important thing. We’re friends. Not enemies.’
For the first time Jess felt some of her nerves dissipate because he was right. They weren’t enemies. Far from it.
He spent a few minutes helping her prepare the food, which was a first, and they did that in silence.
When they were sitting in front of their bowls of pasta he looked at her seriously.
‘First of all,’ he said heavily, ‘you’re not Caitlin and, whether or not you expect anything from me, I intend to be fully involved.’ He dug into his pasta, twirled the spaghetti round his fork and ate a mouthful, watching her in silence.
‘Yes, and I wouldn’t dream of getting in the way of you doing that.’ She had no appetite, but she was aware that this was not the time to start toying with her food. For the next nine months she would be thinking about the wellbeing and health of the child she was carrying and again, despite the circumstances, she felt that punch of pure excitement at the thought of becoming a mum. ‘I’m happy for us to informally arrange...visiting rights, even though it’s early days yet.’
‘Visiting rights...?’
He made it sound as though those two words were ones he’d never heard in his life before. Jess figured he was probably right on that score. He might have known what they meant but certainly not insofar as they pertained to him.
‘I don’t think we need to involve lawyers. I will never fight you when it comes to something like that.’ She paused. ‘And I guess,’ she continued awkwardly, ‘you’ll probably want to financially contribute...?’
‘Does that question really demand an answer?’ But there was still that dazed look on his face, which made her hesitate for some reason.
‘I guess not,’ she conceded. ‘But, whatever you decide to contribute,’ she told him firmly, ‘I want you to know that it will never be forme.It’ll be for the baby.’
‘So I buy the clothes and the...the baby food and the nappies and leave you to carry on teaching and trying to make ends meet?’
Jess looked around her and grimaced. Through the eyes of a billionaire, even one who happened to be her friend, was this little house ever going to make the grade? His pockets were deep enough for him to treat her to one of the most expensive ski resorts on the planet. How was he going to feel about their child coming home to a house where there was hardly enough room to swing a cat?
But the follow-on from that line of thinking was one she knew she would find impossible to accept.
A kept woman, given whatever she wanted financially because she was his child’s mother. She enjoyed her independence—lovedit—but how much joy would she have bringing in her own modest salary when she knew that it was irrelevant?
