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He dropped the bottle of olive oil he was holding onto the smooth concrete of the kitchen counter. He could still back out of this. See the baby at weekends. And at other agreed times.
He wouldn’t have the same opportunity to mess up his son’s life when he wasn’t a constant presence in his life.
He wouldn’t have the constant fear of his marriage descending into a toxic mess.
He wouldn’t have to deal with the fire that burned between him and Charlotte whenever they were in the same room. A fire that could easily derail their plans to raise their child together if expectations and emotions became confused.
But he owed it to his son to make him feel the most wanted child in this world. And he would do anything to ensure that his son never doubted his father’s love.
He punched in his response.
I will never walk away from my son.
He ate his pasta in silence. What was Charlotte thinking? Was she getting cold feet? He typed in another text.
Will collect you at nine-fifteen tomorrow. I’m travelling to Rome after the register office and then on to Asia and the US but I’ll keep in contact.
Again silence. He tossed his now empty plate into the dishwasher and grabbed his phone.
I will curtail my travel when the baby is born.
* * *
Sitting on her sofa in her pyjamas, Charlotte laid her hand on her stomach. Was it slightly more rounded than usual?
Was there really a life growing inside there?
She sighed in confusion at the conflicting thoughts looping through her brain: why would she want to lose her independence?
But then why would she choose to face being a parent on her own?
Why would she choose to marry a maverick heartbreaker?
But then why would she deny her child the right to have her father in her life on a daily basis?
And what of her career? She would struggle to get a job as challenging and rewarding and with so much potential for progression outside London.
But would Lucien be a feckless father?
Or could he love his child as much as her own father loved her?
A large lump swelled in her throat. She adored her father, his old-fashioned gentlemanly ways, his sense of fairness, his love for her mum, his dry sense of humour. The way his eyes lit up whenever he saw her.
But against all of this constant jabber and these conflicting thoughts, one solid feeling pumped in her heart.
She had to do everything to protect her child’s future.
Which had to include taking steps now to protect her baby should anything ever happen to her. She inhaled a deep breath and with trembling fingers managed to type.
The only reason I’m agreeing to this marriage is so that my baby has a hands-on, loving and attentive father in her life. If you aren’t those things, if work and your social life interferes, we are walking away. C
After pressing ‘send’ she switched off the phone and threw it into the far corner of the couch. Instead of resigning tomorrow she would be registering to marry her CEO. She stood and walked towards her bedroom. Praying she knew what she was doing.
Thursday 21st April, 11:10 p.m.
Why aren’t you answering my calls?
Sorry. Was busy. Had to work late to catch up after our appointment at the registrar’s office this morning. What do you want? C
To check how you are.
I’m fine. Thanks. Night. C
Friday 22nd April, 4:54 p.m.
Still busy, I take it? Or is it just my calls you aren’t taking?
I’m at work. Personal calls aren’t allowed. C
Funny. Ring me. I want to speak to you about the Poole project. It’s almost midnight here in Singapore so call within the next half-hour.
Sorry can’t. In a meeting. C
How are you?
Great. Got to go. C
Saturday 23rd April, 12:30 p.m.
Just arrived into Tokyo. What are your plans for the weekend?
Going to visit my parents. Will tell them about baby and our wedding. C
How will they react?
I don’t know. C
Wait for me to return to London. I’ll be back on 30th.
Why? C
I want to support you. And I’m guessing they’ll want to meet me.
I need to do this by myself. C
Why?
It’s easier to pretend to be in love with you when you’re not standing in the same room. C
Tuesday 26th April, 10:30 p.m.
How’s Tokyo? C
In Las Vegas now.
Mixing with lots of pretty showgirls? C
I’m on a construction site.
I told my mum and dad. They’re thrilled about the baby. Shocked but happy about the wedding. C
Good.
Wednesday 27th April, 9:14 p.m.
Won your fortune in Las Vegas yet? C
Moved on to New York last night.
Lucky you. Love New York. C
How are you?
I’m okay. Morning sickness still here. C
You didn’t tell me.
It’s not important—most women suffer when pregnant. C
Take time off work. You should have told me.
You didn’t tell me that you had been married before. C
You’re annoyed?
I’d have preferred not to have found out when we were in the register office. C
It was a long time ago. Have you seen a doctor about your sickness?
Yes. She assured me it’s completely normal. C
You have to take care of yourself and the baby.
We haven’t spoken about telling people at work yet. C
I have a plan that I’ll discuss with you when I’m back in London on Saturday. Come to my house for dinner.
There’s a new restaurant in Soho I’ve been wanting to try. Let’s meet there. I’ll book and send you the details. We also need to talk about a pre-nuptial agreement. I don’t want anything from you. C
We’ll have more privacy to talk in my house.
Somebody at the door. Have to go. C
* * *
Charlotte grimaced at the gingernut biscuit crumbs that had landed on her desk. And in her keyboard! Just—yuck.
Now she remembered why she had quickly given up eating at her desk as a young intern.
She twisted the keyboard upside down and shook vigorously. A woman in an online pregnancy forum swore that ginger biscuits kept her nausea at bay.
Charlotte wasn’t convinced but at least the biscuits might give her a temporary sugar high to beat the tiredness that sat heavy in her bones.
She wasn’t sleeping well.
In a matter of days she had gone from avoiding calls and texts from Lucien to being addicted to checking her phone to see if he had left a message.
In the first few days when he had gone, she had been unable to handle talking to him. Too overwhelmed with how her life had changed. And shocked to know that he had been married before. It shouldn’t have been a surprise, but it left her feeling more vulnerable. It brought home how little she knew him.
She had needed space and time away from him. Away from how she seemed to lose her ability to think logically when in his presence, even if that was an electronic one. So she hadn’t answered his calls and kept her texts brief, immersing herself instead in finalising the new mentoring programme she was introducing into the department for their new interns.
But when he had stopped texting over the weekend, she realised how much she missed hearing from him, missed knowing that he was thinking about her, even if it was only because she was carrying his child.
But last night when he had suggested that they meet at his house on Saturday to talk it had hit home just how difficult it would be to live under the same roof as him, especially in a house full of memories and reminders of their night together.
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