I was afraid.
She was trying to trap him.
I heard she did it on purpose.
She’s not that good at her job so she needed to try and get herself a rich husband. Didn’t work.
Home wrecker. She said she didn’t know he was married. I don’t believe that.
Sleeping her way to the top.
They were all comments I’d heard when I was locked in a bathroom stall, five months pregnant and staring at blood in my knickers. Someone at work had let it out that I was pregnant and who the father was – the information having come from the father himself, probably because he’d already moved on.
The blood turned out to be nothing to worry about; the comments I forced myself to rise above and eventually they went away. Someone else became the focus of office gossip. I carried on working, proudly displaying the baby bump I loved more than anything, but also needing to show I was more than just the colleague that got knocked up.
“David Hartford? Did you say you’d heard from him?” I didn’t turn to face Seph. I was a crap liar and I felt like I was betraying Rose by denying her existence.
I didn’t hear Seph walk up behind me, so when I felt a hand on my shoulder I jumped, a sharp yell bursting from my lungs and then I heard a chuckle.
“Sorry. I forget I sneak up on people without meaning to.”
His hand stayed on my shoulder, warm and heavy.
“Are you okay?”
I blinked. Probably not. I was hormonal; starting a new job was stressful; I wished I could pick my daughter up from nursery each day like she saw other parents doing and I had stomach cramps. Tears were pricking at my eyes and I would not cry in front of anyone I worked with.
The hand tightened a little more on my shoulder. “Why don’t we go for a coffee and I’ll go through the bag of utter shite David passed on last night.”
He was standing directly behind me and I could just about see his reflection in the glass of the window. Heat from his body hit my back and it was all I could do to not lean back into him, craving being held for just a minute.
Instead I turned around, my eyes under control for a minute at least, his hand falling away from my shoulder. “Coffee sounds great.”
He smiled, but it wasn’t his usual smile. It was curious, unsure even.
Now my guilt was for more than just my daughter.
“My treat.” The offer didn’t make me feel any better.
The café wasbusy as usual, a range of people who looked like they worked in nearby offices and some of London’s more eclectic residents. There was a bearded man with a guitar in one corner, gently strumming something that sounded melodic, while two tourists kept sneaking looks at him as he provided their free entertainment.
We sat at the table in the window, one of the waitstaff appearing almost immediately with menus. She recognised Seph straight away, beaming at him. “Your usual?”
I knew from what Payton had said that this was where Seph came when he needed a change of scenery from the office, or to meet clients without trekking halfway across London. Seeing him with Amelie, the owner, had made me understand part of the reason why.
“No, I’ll just have a coffee, thanks. Black with hot milk on the side. Georgia?” He looked at me for my request.
“Latte, thank you.” I’d caught sight of the cakes on the way in and my hormonally spoilt sweet tooth was needing one. “A slice of lemon drizzle as well, please.”
I heard Seph chuckle.
“Don’t judge,” I muttered the words as the waitress left.
He shook his head. “I wouldn’t dare. I have three sisters. I learned how to keep my mouth shut if I wanted to live.”
“They taught you well.”
“Quite painfully sometimes. I met with David last night after he phoned late in the afternoon.”
