It takes him a second to recall. “Annabel’s?”
“Yes.” I nod. “And I hooked up with that girl. Sienna?”
His mouth rolls because I could be talking about anyone. He stopped paying attention to my social life a long time ago. “I didn’t know that was her name. But okay?—”
“I’ve seen her a couple of times since.” I pick up another biscuit out of habit, only to put it back down. I have no appetite. “She’s pregnant.”
The cup of tea stops halfway to Alex’s lips, and he slowly places it back on the table. “And it’s yours?”
Swallowing the resurfacing lump in my throat, I nod. “Apparently so.”
He says nothing more and rubs along his brow.
Since our father died when Miles and I were young, Lando and Alex have taken on his role, especially as we’ve gotten older.
Eight and six years older than us, respectively, they’re a fine balancing act. Lando’s less tolerant than Alex. He’s too focused on building Burlington to put up with the mountain of shit Miles and I get up to. Therefore, Alex is the one we usually go to as a first port of call when we need bailing out—literally, in Miles’scase, last summer.
But I have no idea how Alex will react to this latest news.
His fingers slowly scratch along his stubbled chin, back and forth. I know he’s thinking about how our father would have dealt with this.
By the time he asks, “Have you spoken to Miles?” the anxiety of waiting for his reaction almost has me in tears.
I shake my head. Even though it’s nearly lunchtime in Buenos Aires, there’s no way Miles will be up. “He’s still asleep.”
“And this girl? Did you talk to her about what she wanted to do?”
Sienna’s determined expression flashes in my eyes, and I nod once. “She wants to keep it.”
I don’t add that she already shared her financial demands and expectations, or the one thing I’m trying not to think about—that she got pregnant on purpose. There were two of us there, and I thought we were always careful.
Fuck. What a mess.
“You know you need a paternity test.”
“Yes.” My face drops in my hands, but Alex stands and pulls me into a hug, cradling my head while I sob on his shoulder.
It’s not the first time he’s comforted me like this, and it won’t be the last, so he lets me cry until I’m ready to stop.
“It’s going to be okay, Hen. We’ll figure it out. Let me call Lando, and we’ll drive to Burlington to find Mum too. May as well tell them both at the same time.”
I sniff hard, and my sigh is so deep it makes my stomach convulse. I only just make it to the kitchen sink before I throw up. I haven’t eaten since last night, so all my stomach contains is the acid that’s steadily built up since I walked into the coffee shop. It burns my throat, my eyes sting, and I don’t stop until Alex stands behind me holding a glass of water.
I knock it back in one go, only to vomit it all up again.
It takes another five minutes of resting my head against the cool marble of the sink before I feel anything close to normal, though I suspectnormalisn’t something I’ll get to experience for a while.
When I finally stand straight, Alex stares at me, his face twisted with worry.
“I’m fine, really.” I swipe a hand across my mouth, hoping he doesn’t catch the lie. “I need to run back to the cottage. Can you wait ten minutes?”
He nods. “I’ll let Lando know we’re coming.”
Leaving my car outside Alex’s, I walk the half mile down Honeysuckle Lane to Rosehip Cottage, where Miles and I live. I’ve spent the best part of today either in my car or sitting in a London coffee shop. Fresh country air is what I need. While I’m not putting too much pressure on it, a couple of deep lungfuls is all it takes to dial down the anxiety by at least twenty-five percent.
I even manage a small wave to Mrs. Winston, walking on the other side of the road. But I pass too quickly for her to stop me for a chat, and as I’m nearing the fountain, I hear my name and look up.
There she is.
