Nate came over, barely looking at Neva because he was staring at me. He wasn’t clean-shaven like he normally was, a bit of stubble coated his chin, but he was wearing a suit, his shirt undone at the top button, and in his hand was a pretty bouquet of flowers.
“Happy Valentine’s Day.” He handed me the flowers and pulled out the seat where Neva had been so he could fit into it, leaving me open-mouthed. “Don’t blame Neva. I took advantage of her being emotional.”
I blinked a few times, tried to find words that just weren’t available right now, so I took a sip of my drink instead.
There was no doubt in my mind that he knew. There was no doubt that Neva had told him. That was why my so-called friend had been acting squirrelly. I wanted to both kill her and hug her at the same time, but my priority right now was trying not to cry.
He’d brought me flowers.
“They’re beautiful.” I managed that. “Thank you.” Which was better than ‘fuck you’, which could also have come out.
“I’m glad you like them. Have you chosen what food you want?”
I just stared at him for a little longer.
“Amber, are you okay? If you want, I can call Neva and ask her to come back.” He picked up Neva’s – his – menu and looked at it, giving me a reprieve from his gaze.
I shook my head. ‘No. No, I’m okay. Do you know? Did she tell you?” Because I needed to know. I needed to get this over with.
He nodded. “She told me that you were pregnant. Yesterday. I went looking for you because Jude said you’d been sick, and I wanted to see how you were. I saw Neva and it clicked, why you hadn’t been leading hot yoga and being sick but not ill. It didn’t take much for Neva to tell me.” He accepted a fresh napkin from a passing waiter and ordered a drink – a coffee and a soda water.
I guessed he was also my lift home.
“I’m sorry.” That seemed like a good place to start.
“If you’re sorry for not telling me sooner, then it’s fine. I can understand you needed to get your head around things. If you’re sorry for being pregnant, don’t be. That’s more my fault than no one’s fault. I’m pretty sure the condoms I used in the hotel were seriously out of date.”
Now he looked nervous too. Afraid. This big, broad man who’d put himself out there against the boy who’d made me feel less than I should looked scared.
“Oh. How out of date?”
He grinned, but it was a shy grin. “About four years.”
We looked at each other, tears pricking at my eyes – something I was getting quite used to – and both started laughing.
Relief lifted a terrible weight off my shoulders and I breathed a little bit more easily.
“Four years?”
He nodded. “I was wondering how – last night – and I checked my wallet. There was one left and, yeah, it had expired a while ago. I’m sorry.”
I shook my head. “It, I don’t know, happened and we just have to move on.” I managed to look at him, a couple of tears escaping. I wiped them away. “I’m sorry. I’m crying at everything at the moment.”
He nodded, a little too much, clearly not knowing what to say.
“Hormones.” His embarrassment was amusing.
“I’m sorry I haven’t told you earlier. Only Genny and Neva know. Genny was with me when I did the test.”
His expression changed to serious. “Why’s it taken so long?”
I blinked away the rest of my tears. “Because I needed to decide what I wanted to do. I knew I would tell you, but I needed to be okay with anything you might say. This might screw up things for you and you might not be okay with that.”
Nate scanned the menu again, the easy atmosphere disappearing. I wanted him to talk to me, to tell me everything would be okay, but I knew I wasn’t going to get that.
“Have you decided what you’re going to do?” He put the menu down again.
I had. A few days ago I’d lay in bed, my hand on my stomach, wondering if this baby was a boy or girl, what they’d be like, if they’d be sporty, if they’d have my dark hair, or Nate’s sandy blonde. When I realised I was thinking about trying one of those face blending apps to work out what they’d look like, I knew that I was attached to this baby, the size of a bean, and my future was now inextricably entwined with theirs.
