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Chapter Twelve

‘Can I come in?’ They’d sat in the car on the driveway in the same silence that had lasted the whole drive home. ‘I could really use a bathroom. Please?’

‘Fine.’ He nodded tersely before stomping into the cottage and into the living room. He whistled briefly to Mallow, who bounced up and down on her perch, rattling her beak against the cage bars. At least she was pleased to see him, and she was completely clear with what she wanted from him. He opened the door, and she raced out, climbing to the top of her cage and the play stand attached to it. He held his fingers out to her, itching her growing feathers and tussling with her beak.

Eventually, when his patience was almost at its limit, Yvette appeared. She hovered awkwardly in the doorway, looking pale beneath her perfectly applied make-up. ‘Ricky, can I . . .’

‘No. Whatever it is, you don’t get to ask anything of me right now.’ He folded his arms across his chest. ‘What you get to do now is answer my questions.’

‘Of course. Whatever you want.’

‘What I want, right now, is some honesty from you.’ He steepled his fingers, pressing them against his lips, while he figured out what he wanted to ask first. ‘Did you always know? That it wasn’t mine? Did you know from the start?’

‘Well, it’s not like you wake up and suddenly know you’re pregnant.’

‘No, I assumed that.’ He’d stay patient with her and keep his cool. Regardless of whose baby it was, she was still pregnant, and he still had to do his best to not cause her stress. ‘But given that we know the baby was conceived while you were supposedly at the spa with your friend, I assumed you would be able to remember whether or not you had a period while you were there.’

‘Well, you know things were really busy, and I was stressed, and . . .’

‘Stop making excuses, Yvette. Just answer the fucking question. Did you know from the start that the baby isn’t mine?’

‘Yes.’

‘So when you stopped getting periods because you’d “changed your pill to make things better for us both”, you were already pregnant?’

‘Maybe.’

‘Right. So while I was recovering from the accident, and preparing for court, you weren’t really at a spa getting your face plumped up . . . you were cheating on me.’

‘I wouldn’t really call it cheating.’

‘You wouldn’t? What would you call it then?’

‘A silly mistake that made me realise how much I really loved you.’

‘A silly mistake?’ He forced another deep breath, searching for some level of calm, but failed miserably to find it. ‘So what? You tripped and accidentally impaled yourself on another man’s dick?’

‘No, I mean . . .’

‘Oh please, do tell me what you mean. Mallow and I are just itching to know.’ He folded his arms across his chest, waiting for the answer she didn’t have. ‘So go on then.’ He couldn’t help his curiosity. ‘Who really is the father?’

‘Well, you could be. No one would know apart from us.’

‘Let me rephrase that. Who were you fucking while claiming to be in love with me?’ He felt a pang of guilt when she winced at his words. Oh well, not his problem.

‘You remember my friend with the yacht? Who I went to the spa with?’

‘Yeah. Jeannie or something like that.’

‘Jean,’ she corrected him, using the continental pronunciation. ‘As in Jean Charles.’

‘Wow. So the friend “Jean”, who you let me assume was a woman, was actually the guy you were shagging.’ He shook his head in disbelief. ‘And not just once either. So it’s not really a mistake, is it? Not when it happens again and again.’

‘You’re picking on me.’ She threw the accusation at him. ‘You’re trying to confuse me and my pregnancy brain. It’s not my fault I’ve never been as smart as you.’

‘I’m not “picking on you”, I’m just stating facts. And don’t think flattery will get me to change the subject.’ He ignored her pout. ‘You fucked him, at least twice, while supposedly in a relationship with me. You must have had a really good laugh at my expense.’

‘I wasn’t laughing at you. I was lonely. You weren’t giving me enough attention. You were so busy being all stressed about things . . .’