I risk a glance upwards and immediately regret it. His green eyes are bright, and his wide mouth is set and serious. His fingers go to my face, gently stroke the skin of my cheek, a soft touch that makes me sigh.
Something has changed here, and I have no idea why. Maybe it was talking about our old lives. Maybe it’s an extension of our need for comfort and understanding. Maybe it’s the physical proximity – we’re both human beings, and we’re pressed up against each other in a way that makes it impossible not to notice certain things.
His thumb runs across my lips, and I groan as we both move even closer to each other. His hand drifts up and down my side, and I close my eyes and allow myself to enjoy the sensation.
‘What’s happening here?’ I murmur. ‘This wasn’t part of the plan…’
‘I don’t know what’s happening,’ he replies, his breath warm against me, his voice low and taut. ‘But I think I like it…’
He’s going to kiss me, I know. He’s going to kiss me and I am going to love it. And if I let him kiss me, there will be no going back. I will not be able to resist his touch, or say no, or hold off from what my body is so desperate for. It will change everything, and it will not be fair. He has no idea what kind of a mess he’s getting himself into.
It takes every ounce of willpower I have, but I put my palms flat on his chest and push him away. ‘No,’ I mutter. ‘Guy, this is a mistake. We can’t do this. Please.’
I know my resolve is weak here, and I hope that he is the kind of man I think he is – the kind that will listen to a woman and not try to change her mind. I know he could. The way I already feel, the heat that is coursing through me, is proof of that – he could very much change my mind if he wanted to.
He lets out a frustrated moan and throws his hands over his head. ‘Okay,’ he rasps. ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.’
‘You didn’t do anything that I didn’t want,’ I assure him. ‘And believe me, I wanted even more. Turns out you’re not that disgusting after all.’
He laughs and rubs his face with his hands, like he’s trying to pull himself back into reality. I know how he feels.
‘I still feel like a dick,’ he says ruefully. ‘You always told me you were just flirting. I knew you didn’t mean it, I just got carried away.’
I prop myself up on my elbow, and smile at him. ‘We both did. Please don’t create a narrative for yourself where this was all your fault, and I’m some innocent. I got just as carried away as you did.’
His eyes roam over my face, and I know what he will be seeing. My pupils will be dilated, my skin flushed, my hair in disarray. I will look like a woman who was very much enjoying herself only seconds earlier. A flicker of confusion, and he asks: ‘Okay. I believe you. So, if we both wanted this, and we were both enjoying it as much as we seemed to be, then… why not? Is it too much of a commitment?’
‘Ha! Don’t bring the C word into this, Guy! Look, it’s complicated…’
‘That’s another C word.’
‘Damn you and your knowledge of the alphabet.’
He’s looking up at me, and I see the hurt in his eyes. I have rejected him, and he doesn’t understand why. I owe it to himto explain, and frankly this is not something I can hide for too much longer anyway.
‘It’s complicated,’ I say, after taking a deep breath, ‘because I’m pregnant.’
TEN
‘Oh,’ he replies simply, sitting up so quickly his head collides with the side of the tent. ‘Yeah. Well, I suppose that is complicated. But is it also good? Are you happy?’
I smile, my heart singing and my blood pounding and my mind feeling like it’s about to explode. ‘There’s not a simple answer to that, Guy – but yes, I think so. It wasn’t planned.’
‘None of the best things are,’ he says, his eyes going to my stomach. I wonder if he still fancies me now, or if I’ve automatically been put in the ‘untouchable’ box? I’m sure it’s not the sexiest of situations for any man, being told the woman they were just getting hot and heavy with is carrying another bloke’s child. ‘How far along are you?’
‘Nine weeks,’ I tell him. ‘I know the exact night it happened. I’d crossed over into Gibraltar on the ferry, and my friend Javier came to meet me. Drove me back to Malaga for a few nights.’
‘Right. And is Javier the father?’
‘No. Javier lives with his husband, Luke, and would probably cry if a woman made a pass at him. Their pal Alex, though… Well, he’s a different story. We’d met before, a few times over a period of years, and always had a friends-with-benefits kind ofset up, you know? All good fun, nobody’s feelings involved, no complications.’
He quirks an eyebrow. ‘The evidence suggests there was at least one complication.’
‘It does, doesn’t it? We took precautions, but I assume something went wrong. Or right, depending on how you look at it. I was in France when I realised and had a lot of fun going into the local pharmacy and doing a mime routine to buy a pregnancy testing kit, and… well… yeah. There you go.’
He nods, turning it all over, and then asks: ‘And Alex? How did he react?’
‘Shock, amusement, and eventually a very laid-back agreement that we’d deal with it step by step. Like I’ve said before, I’m not the marrying type. We’re not star-crossed lovers, and there’s certainly no plan for me to move to Spain – he’s rarely around anyway, he works for Medecins Sans Frontieres and you know what that’s like.’
