"As you wish." Pushing to his feet, he stepped back.
"I know you're upset."
"What gave it away?"
She bristled at his tone. "It's my body."
"As you keep saying. I'll meet you at the clinic in the morning. Just text me the address."
"I'll see you out."
"Oh please, don't bother." With that, he strode from the room.
She sat there until she heard the front door slam shut before getting up. Yes, she had handled it badly, but she didn't give a damn, not the way she was feeling. This was the last thing she wanted.
A child, one she was not prepared for. Sighing, she rose and went to lock up before heading towards the kitchen to make another pot of tea.
*****
He knew that as soon as he hung up from them, they would be coming and nothing he said would stop them. He was starting to feel hemmed in by all the love and reluctantly acknowledged that Leanne was somehow justified in her thinking. Not quite though. His family was the best and nothing was wrong with caring.
He uncoded the alarm and stepped back to allow his parents entry.
"Darling, you look awful." Mary-Ann Kostas folded her arms around his waist and placed her head on his chest. "What did that woman have to say to make you look so miserable?"
Bending from his lofty height, he kissed the top of the shiny sable brown hair, meeting his father's amused gaze when he lifted his head.
"A scotch would go down well."
"Not while you're driving." Stepping back, his wife said firmly.
"How about some tea?" She led the way into the kitchen, the sharp green eyes she had passed down to all of her sons darting around the immaculate space.
"I see the housekeeper is working out." She went straight to the stove to put the kettle on.
"She is. You didn't need to come over."
"Of course we did." With a wave of one elegant hand, she went to the pantry to take down an apron. Tying it around her narrow waist, she put the kettle on before facing her two men.
"Now, tell us everything."
Sliding onto the stool next to his father, he began. "I'm going to be a dad."
The silence in the stark black and cream kitchen stretched for several seconds, before the clamor began. His mother rushed over to practically jump into his arms, with screams of delight. And his father thumped him hard enough on the shoulder to have him jolting.
Excited murmurs from both of them continued and Christos let the conversation go over his head. The kettle squealed just then and had his mother whirling away towards the stove.
"We need to plan a wedding." Getting out cups, she selected some chamomile and dug around for the honey.
"The sooner the better. How far along is she?" She stirred in the honey and passed a cup to each of them. "If she's not too far along, she can still wear that lovely ivory gown your grandmother passed down."
Walking around the counter, she wrapped her arms around her son and beamed.
"There's not going to be a wedding." He would have given anything not to see the look of profound disappointment on her beautiful face.
"Darling, what are you saying?"
"She doesn't want to get married." He stated flatly.
