‘And what does he have to say?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘You would’ve told him—the father—before you told me.’
She opens her mouth and then closes it again. ‘Let’s say for the minute that I’m more interested in what you have to say.’
‘I say nothing else matters so long as I have you.’
‘Really? You’d still want to be with me, even if I was pregnant with another man’s child?’
‘I can’t help what happened before you sat on my bed and grabbed my junk. What’s done is done. I just want you. And if you have a baby, then that’s part of you, too.’
Even though she’s in my arms, this embrace has been one way. At least until she throws her arms around my neck, her feet coming up off the ground as she buries her face in my neck.
‘You maddening, thick-headed Scot. You’re the only man I’ve slept with in months.’
‘Hang on, hang on,’ I say, setting her feet on the floor again. ‘I know it’s Christmas and all, but I’m a wee bit too old to believe in the whole miracle thing.’
She makes atsk-ing sound, a frustrated clash of teeth and tongue. ‘Wait a minute,’ she mutters, unbuttoning her duffle coat.
‘Will Paddington Bear no’ want his coat back?’
She shushes me with a smile, and my heart unclenches just a little bit. Other parts of me might have a slightly different reaction as I watch her unwrapping the cream woollen scarf from beneath her coat. Then she unzips a pink fleecy jacket thing.
‘I think your striptease needs a bit of work.’ As she sends me a cautioning look, I add, ‘I mean to say, I think it’s the most erotic thing I’ve seen.’
‘I don’t know about erotic,’ she says, slipping her hand into the now reachable back pocket of her jeans. ‘But I do have these.’ She slaps a clear sandwich bag down on the counter, flattening out the contents. ‘I’ve heard some people are into pee. Maybe I could’ve made some money out of these.’ I look from the pregnancy tests to her. Of course, I know what they are. They happen to be a painful symbol of my past.
‘So you took three? Just to be sure?’ I ask carefully.
‘Trouble does come in threes, so I’ve heard. I hope that doesn’t mean triplets. Anyway,’ she says, rousing herself, ‘I took the tests today. I was due my period last week, but I’ve been too busy wallowing to realise. In a nutshell, I appear to be a little over three weeks pregnant and seeing as you’re the only man I’ve had sex with in bloody months’—she grabs the bag from the counter, shoving it against my chest—‘I think we hardly need Maury Povich to announce that you, Greg Hamley,arethe father of our very own surprise package.’
