скачать книгу бесплатно
A baby. He still couldn’t quite connect that concept with his life. How had that even...? Okay, so it wasn’t as if he needed a diagram, and it wasn’t as if he didn’t believe Rachel when she said she’d taken the morning-after pill. They were just that tiny fraction of a per cent that the maths for a double contraceptive fail worked out as. Maybe at the end of this weekend—he glanced at the sun; Rachel would be here in a few hours—it would feel more real.
He rubbed the heel of his hand against his forehead as he tried to think, the rhythmic crash of the waves on the sand soothing in its familiarity. Was real—knowing that there was absolutely, definitely no way of getting out of this—going to feel better? How could it? He’d all but walked away from his family. Had been happy managing on his own. But what could he do now? He’d enjoyed every minute of what had got them here, and he would take responsibility for what they’d done.
His head should be spinning. These past few days he should have wanted to scream, or run, or, God, faint or something. But instead, he felt nothing. A blank, empty space filled his brain, keeping feelings at bay.
But as he sat, thinking, he noticed a warm yellow glow creeping around the edges of that numb void. A hint of some emotion that was waiting, just out of reach, but heading closer.
He flopped back onto the sand, covering his eyes from the intense glare of the sun with his arm. Part of him wanted to go. To turn around and walk away and just imagine he’d never laid eyes on Rachel. Pretend that one night, one night that had tied him into a lifetime of commitment, had never happened. But then a flash of memory assailed him—a gentle, lazy smile on Rachel’s lips in the dim early-morning light. Too tired for games, too sated for self-protection, he’d seen for the first time the real, unguarded woman, with no barriers, no motives, no second-guessing. He couldn’t make himself regret that moment, that instant connection.
And there went the ‘numb’ phase, as the memory of his desire and passion that night was chased from his body by nausea-inducing fear. He let out a long, unsteady breath. God, he wished he’d appreciated ‘dazed’ more.
For a moment the thought of that commitment, the inescapable permanency of it, threatened to paralyse him, bringing back every nightmare and the sleepless nights between. The last time Leo Fairfax had been this frightened of the future.
But he was going to be a father. He and Rachel—that fascinating, maddening, excessively disciplined woman he’d been unable to shake from his mind for weeks now, had somehow, against all her best-laid plans, and his lack of them, created a new human life. The magnitude of the realisation stole his breath for a few long moments as he looked up and out across the water, trying to imagine who he was, this whole new person that they had created. But the vision remained hazy, too unformed to be anything more than broad strokes of a life.
* * *
Rachel stepped out of the taxi—she’d insisted to Leo that she could, and would, get to his place under her own steam—and gasped in horror. He’d warned her on the phone that he was doing some renovations, but this was...it was ramshackle. The ground all around was either churned up or covered in bags of building materials, and the windows were still covered by plastic sheeting. Most concerning of all, the roof seemed to consist of a couple of blue tarpaulins, flapping gently in the breeze. She glanced up further, relieved to see that the sky was still a clear, sunny blue, without a cloud in sight.
Thank goodness she had a list of practically every hotel in Dorset, sorted by distance from the coastal village Leo’s postcode had directed her to. And a list of taxi companies, too. And train times back to London. As she’d saved them all on her tablet, just in case she found herself out of network coverage, she’d hoped that she wouldn’t actually need them. She wanted to use her time here to get to know Leo better—it was essential, in the circumstances. And staying in a hotel the whole weekend would mean less time together. But she wasn’t sure that a building site was the best place to get to know each other, either.
She’d give it a chance, she told herself, but double-checked that she had signal on her mobile, just in case. Tentatively, she picked her way along the path from the road, and as it passed around the corner of the cottage she stopped and dropped her bag. Okay, so this she could stay for. The cottage was perched on top of a rocky cliff, with views all around the bay, from majestic, prehistoric coastline at one end to brightly coloured beach huts and umbrellas at the other. The clumpy grass she’d been cursing for catching on her heels gave way to sand and rocks, and a path meandered down to the narrow sandy beach.
She breathed in a couple of good lungfuls of sea air, but her brief moment of tranquillity was interrupted by a mechanical scream from inside the house. The noise made her jump, but—curious—she ventured towards the door, certain that a whole crew of builders must be in there to make such a racket. A troop of roofers, she hoped, casting another glance at the tarp.
‘Hello?’ she shouted, once she’d grappled with her bag and made it to the door.
But when she caught sight of Leo, she fell silent, leaning against the door frame to enjoy the view. He wore jeans—faded and worn, moulded to his body in a way that told her they were well loved and often worn. His T-shirt was white, damp down the back and clinging in all the right ways. The powerful swimmer’s muscles of his shoulders and back were outlined by the soft cling of the jersey, and rippled as he handled planks of wood and an electric saw with ease.
All day her thoughts had flip-flopped between terror and excitement at the thought of seeing Leo again. They had drifted his way often in the weeks since she’d seen him, reliving that night over and over again. But it wasn’t just the sex that had stuck in her mind. It was the way he’d smiled at her on the dance floor as he’d figured her out, and found which buttons to press to help her change her mind. The sparkle in his eyes as he’d watched her figure him out, and find a way to take him home.
It was the way she’d let go as she’d moved in his arms, following his lead, taking it back, following her body and his, improvising. Exploring every possibility thrown up by this totally unplanned—she could admit it to herself, if not to him—encounter. But the things she’d found with him that night were exactly the reason she was nervous now. How would she keep control over the rest of her life when she’d failed so spectacularly to keep control even over her own body?
Well, she told herself, the first defence was easy—no repeat performances. She had to keep her head. Which meant she had to put the brakes on this little ogling session and somehow get his attention. Not easy when he was wearing ear protectors and making an unholy racket.
It didn’t seem wise to sneak up on a man when he was communing with the power-tool gods. But how long was she meant to stand there? How long could she watch him like this before her resolve began to falter? She was about to take a step forward when her gaze dropped from where it had been fixed on Leo, and her brain caught up with what her eyes were hinting was wrong with the picture. The floor—where was it? She hadn’t noticed it immediately because Leo was standing on a large piece of board, but between the door and him—nothing. Well, not quite nothing. A few joists, the odd floorboard balanced across them. Otherwise, just bare earth a few inches down.
She snatched her foot back and switched to plan B. While she waited for him to finish what he was doing with the saw, she pulled her phone out of her pocket and found his number. As soon as the whine of the tool stopped, she hit Dial, hoping that he had his phone on him, and set to vibrate. It gave her the perfect excuse to look at his bottom at least—trying to see if it had started buzzing, of course.
As she watched, Leo straightened and stretched his muscles, and then reached into his back pocket. Was it her imagination, or did his shoulders tense when he lifted the phone and saw the display? Regardless, hers tensed, too—sympathy stress. When Leo wrenched off the ear protectors, she cleared her throat and he finally turned to look at her.
She tried to read his expression—in business, a degree of mind-reading came in handy. And while she hadn’t quite cracked full-on ESP yet, she’d got pretty good at reading people. So she knew that the smile was genuine—but what he was feeling was more complex than his sunny grin implied. His mouth said he was happy to see her. The line of his shoulders and slight stiffness in his arms told her he was wary. Of her? Of the baby? Was there a difference any more? They came as a package deal—literally—for the next seven or so months.
But he was still smiling at her as he walked across the room—balancing on the joists like a gymnast on a beam.
‘Hi,’ he said as he got to the door. ‘I wasn’t expecting you yet. Sorry, I thought I’d be done for the day before you got here.’ She glanced at her watch. According to her travel schedule, which she’d sent over to him yesterday, she was right on time. But perhaps it was a little early in the trip to bring that up. She remembered the way he had stiffened when he’d seen she was calling and almost flinched herself. It was hardly flattering, knowing she was the cause of such trepidation. And she had no desire to kick off with anything other than small talk just yet. She’d put in a lot of thought, time and energy over the past few days, trying to come up with a plan that would suit both of them, all three of them, for the foreseeable future. There were a few scenarios for them to choose from, but she was satisfied that between the notes on her tablet and the scenario-planning charts she’d printed and bound she’d come up with something that they could work with. All she had to do now was convince Leo of that fact, and in doing so she was going to have to tread lightly.
‘Oh, it’s fine,’ she said, trying to be breezy about the lack of flooring. ‘So...new boards?’
‘It’s kind of a work in progress,’ Leo said, glancing about him, apparently unconcerned. ‘We found some rot and had to rip the old ones out. Then I found these incredible boards at a rec yard.’
She smiled and nodded, feeling the tension in her shoulders travel down her arms until her fingers were fighting against tight fists.
‘But isn’t it a little...inconvenient—not having a floor?’
‘It’s only temporary.’ He shrugged. ‘And it’s only one room—the rest of the house is fine. Are you coming in?’
Fine? From what she’d seen from the outside, this floor was the least of her worries. But she forced herself to take a deep breath, and keep her smile stuck on a little longer.
‘Sure.’ She grabbed the handle of her suitcase and looked at the floor in anticipation, mapping out the shortest and quickest route.
‘Leave your case—I’ll grab it. Isn’t there a “no heavy lifting” clause in this pregnancy thing?’
Her eyes flicked to his face, trying to read his expression. It was the first time either of them had mentioned the baby, and his voice hadn’t exactly sounded sure, almost as if he were testing the words, not quite believing them. She didn’t answer. She couldn’t, yet. Couldn’t face up to all the uncertainties that lay ahead of them.
She set a foot on the joist by the door. A couple of steps in she started to wish she’d kicked off her shoes as she wobbled a little on her stiletto heel. But just as she started to worry that she might not get that wobble back under control, Leo’s hand grabbed hers and held her steady. A shiver spread through her body at the feel of his hand, and she squeezed it tight, suddenly feeling less steady on her feet, not more. He swung the door open in front of them and she jumped across the last gap.
As she landed, she wobbled again, and this time Leo’s arm caught her around the waist. She’d put out a hand to break the fall she’d been sure was inevitable, but instead of hitting the floor it hit solid, warm muscle. She should have snatched it back, of course. Should definitely not have stretched her fingers and pressed her palm a little tighter against him, remembering the night she had spent held against that chest, the salty taste as she’d kissed it, how she’d pressed her palms to it as she’d...
Leo’s arm tightened around her and she wondered if he was remembering, too. She looked up and found his gaze intent on her, his eyes serious and the smile gone. Her lips parted, and her body begged her to stretch up, to press her lips against his, to lose herself in his body. But her brain screamed warnings thick and fast. Caught in the middle, she wavered, leaning back slightly against Leo’s arm as she met his gaze. Over his shoulder, she caught a glance of the room they had just left—the chaos, the power tools, the almost complete lack of floor—and she took a deliberate step backwards. Her life was chaotic enough. One night with Leo had shaken up everything she thought she knew about the future and dumped it back around her. The last thing she needed at the moment was for that to happen again.
Leo gave her a long look, his expression neither regretful nor pleased, but hovering somewhere around wary. After a beat, he turned from her and strode back across the joists to rescue her case from outside. Rachel dragged her eyes from him and, determined to distract herself, took a moment to look around the room she’d landed in so inelegantly. The contrast between the front room and this kitchen couldn’t be greater. From chaos, she’d stepped into a lifestyle magazine. Sunlight spilled in through wide windows with views out towards the bay, reflecting off the polished wooden worktops. A huge table, made of boards similar to the ones Leo was laying in the next room, occupied one half of the kitchen and an enormous range cooker occupied an inglenook fireplace. Glass doors opened out onto a small garden and a staircase wound up the wall in the corner of the room. It was beautiful, and when she looked at Leo it was with admiration for more than his well-developed lats.
He arrived back at the door to the kitchen with her case slung effortlessly over his shoulder. Okay, she was still admiring the lats, she realised, that perfect diagonal of muscle between underarm and waist—and reminded herself that all her future plans for her life came with a big fat No Repeat Performance clause. If she wanted to stay on track, she had to get her ogle under control.
‘Luckily for you, the kitchen and bathrooms were finished first,’ he said with a grin.
‘This is beautiful.’ She was still slightly taken aback by the contrast of this room with the building sites she’d seen so far, but determined to stay focused. ‘Did you do all the work yourself?’
He nodded. ‘Everything I legally can—an electrician did a couple of bits, but most of it was me.’
‘You’ve done a great job.’
‘Thanks.’ He smiled and nodded, without false modesty or undue pride. ‘Can I get you anything before I go and clean myself up? Coffee? Tea?’ He glanced down at his sawdust-caked jeans and T-shirt as he spoke.
She brushed off his offer, instead getting him to point her towards coffee and mugs. When he’d disappeared up the stairs, Rachel turned to the cupboard and started on the coffee, almost squealing with delight when the tin next to the kettle turned out to contain cake and biscuits. Her eyes threatened to fill with tears—stupid hormones. But she guessed he wasn’t the type to keep cake in the cupboard, and that meant it was only there for her sake. Butterflies were still causing havoc in her tummy, and she reluctantly admitted to herself that her nerves were more about the man, today, than the baby.
Once the initial gigantic I-don’t-know-what-the-hell-is-going-to-happen-next panic had receded slightly, the day after she’d taken the pregnancy test, she’d started to think more and more about the baby growing inside her. About bringing a new life into the world, and excitement had grown and grown. Her thoughts about Leo? Still bound up with an almighty warning sign. And seeing his home, the centre of his disorder, hadn’t helped. She rubbed her belly, thinking soothing thoughts, not wanting to inflict her worries on her baby. It seemed important already that she didn’t allow her concerns to become his, or hers. Not as her parents had with her.
She turned as she heard Leo’s footsteps on the stairs, and he appeared around the curve of the staircase in clean jeans and a black T-shirt, his hair a little damp.
‘Sorry to abandon you like that. I looked in the mirror and thought I’d gone prematurely grey so I jumped in the shower to get rid of the dust.’
She smiled as she transferred coffee pot, mugs and cake to the table. ‘And here was me thinking the shock had sent you all Marie Antoinette.’
He raised an eyebrow, questioning.
‘Hair went white overnight? Never mind, obscure reference. Coffee and cake?’
‘Sounds good,’ Leo said, pulling out a chair and dropping into it. She watched his hands as he hacked a couple of wedges of cake, impressed and wondering whether she now had a pregnancy get-out clause when it came to denying her sweet tooth. She pulled up the chair beside him and poured the coffee, sending him sideways glances, wondering if he was finding this sudden domesticity as strange as she was. Bizarre, she thought. That she could find something so ordinary as coffee and cake new and nerve-racking when they were already somehow a family.
Rachel sipped the coffee and flinched when it scalded her lips. But it was worth it for the familiar caffeine buzz. The smell, even the taste, made her feel more comfortable. More herself. And the act of sitting at a great big table with a hot cup of coffee was all she needed to get her brain in gear, and have her reaching for her tablet. She grabbed her handbag, which she’d left propped by the chair, and pulled out all the plans she’d made since she’d first read Pregnant on that test. They had a lot to discuss, and it made sense to start work, she thought. She pulled herself up slightly on the word work; technically this was personal. But her—their—new life was going to take so much organising that it might as well be work. It was easier to think of it that way. To slot Leo and their child and all the changes they represented into her life as she would any other project. Because what was the alternative—chucking out everything she thought she knew and starting again?
But when she’d spread out her tablet and binders and looked up, she found Leo staring at her, a grimace on his face. She faltered slightly at the hard lines of his brows. The white knuckles of his fists.
‘What are they?’ The words were forced through his teeth, none too friendly. She glanced down—a little confused about how this had caused so much hostility. It wasn’t as if he even knew what her plans contained. He’d gone white even at the thought of them.
‘It’s a tablet.’ She spoke slowly, treading carefully in light of his sudden shift in mood. Not wanting to upset things further. ‘And some charts. I had a few ideas about how we’re going to make this work. I thought you might want to talk them through.’
‘Oh, you did?’ He took a long sip of his coffee—diversionary tactic, she guessed. ‘And here was me thinking you were about to present me with a finished plan.’ She dropped her eyes and felt her cheeks warm—it had never occurred to her to wait until she’d spoken to him before drawing up their options. But now they were laid out in front of her, and Leo was so obviously fighting to keep his annoyance under control, she could see that he was right.
‘Did you just expect me to go along with everything you’d decided?’
Well, it wasn’t as if he’d made any suggestions—it had been all down to her.
But when could he have contributed? She’d not seen him since they’d found out the news; she hadn’t given him a chance. ‘I’m sorry. I should have spoken to you first.’ Her plans were good, though, thorough. They covered myriad scenarios with timetables, budgets and schedules. And of course Leo had a say. But she was the one carrying the baby. She was the one who would have to take time off for the birth. She was the one who would have to decide whether, and how, she could return to work.
She was the one who would have to put what little she recognised of her life back together after the baby was born.
And it wasn’t as if she hadn’t considered what Leo wanted. She’d given him plenty of options, with his involvement ranging from full-time parenting to ‘financial contribution only’. Even—though nothing she’d seen of Leo so far told her that she’d need it—a ‘no involvement’ plan.
‘I thought we were going to have a coffee.’ Leo’s tone was still harsh, and he gripped his mug as if struggling to keep his temper.
‘Can’t we drink and talk?’
‘Sure, we can drink and talk. But that’s not what you’re suggesting. You want to drink and work.’
He was beyond tense now, and heading directly for angry. His body language was defensive, closed, and she could see from the lines of fear on his face that she’d stumbled into deeper waters than she’d thought. He wasn’t just angry at her for doing this without him. Her temper had lit in response to his, but she forced it down, trying to keep neutral. Trying to understand what had him so wary. If she blew up, too, they’d never talk this through.
‘We don’t have to do this all today. But I’d like to make a start, if we can. We’ve got quite a lot to get through—’
‘Get through?’ He slammed his mug onto the table, and hot coffee spilled onto the wood, creeping towards her papers. She pulled them back, eyeing Leo, suddenly realising she’d completely underestimated how badly she’d read him, how much distance there was between them. How impossible it was going to be to create a family out of this mess. ‘I’m not a project, Rachel. I’m not a client or a boss or someone you’re giving a presentation to. This isn’t going to be solved over a working lunch and a follow-up email.’
‘But—’
‘No!’
Rachel set her cup down slowly, willing herself to remain calm in the face of his raw emotion, wishing she could understand what was making him react this way. She hadn’t expected this to be easy, but she hadn’t expected such vehement opposition, either. She shut her eyes and counted to ten, hoping that when she opened them again Leo would’ve lost the frightened, cornered, angry look that twisted his features—usually so effortlessly sexy—into something ugly.
She looked up. He had calmed a little, the redness draining from his face, but there were still deep creases between his brows, and his mouth was set in a harsh line.
‘I’m sorry, but I cannot have your plan dictated to me and just go along with it.’ The clipped consonants and snappy vowels gave away the effort that near-civility was costing him. ‘I know you need this. I know you want everything decided, booked, settled. But it’s not just you now. Can’t you see that?’ He could see it, and he didn’t know how to get away from it. ‘If we decide something, we have to do it together. I will not let you plan and schedule and itemise my life just because I happened to get you pregnant. That doesn’t give you the right to come in here and tell me how it’s going to be.’
‘I’ve given you choices...options.’ Finally she couldn’t keep the anger from her own voice. With the venom contained in his, it didn’t seem optional—it was a necessity. A way to fend off his biting accusations.
‘You don’t get to give me anything. That’s not how together works.’
‘What’s made you so scared?’ she asked. ‘Tell me why my having a plan freaks you out. Because as far as I can see, with us barely knowing each other, and living hours apart, and having an actual baby together, some idea of how we’re going to cope seems like a good idea. So why is it you blanch, pretty much start shaking and bite my head off?’
He scraped his chair backwards, leaving a good couple of feet between him and the table, the space acting like a force field around him. ‘I can’t do it like this, Rachel. I won’t. I can’t sit here, backed into a corner with no way out of what you’ve decided for us. I won’t be trapped.’
And with that he headed straight out of the door, leaving her sitting at the kitchen table wondering what the hell had just happened. Her heart was hammering in her chest, tears pricked at her eyes, and her fingers shook slightly when she reached for a cloth to mop up the spilled coffee.
How had they got here? They’d gone from almost kissing when she’d arrived to the point where they couldn’t be in the same room together.
And now she was scared—because nothing he had said or done made her believe that he was in any way glad about the fact they were having a baby. In the days since she’d found out she was expecting, she’d started to look forward to being a parent. Feel joy at the prospect of meeting the new life they had created. Of course there was an enormous dose of full-body-paralysis fear, not least when she tried to think about how she could possibly spend the next eighteen—or eighty—years trying to maintain some sort of contact with Leo.
The thought of having to live with the disorder and randomness that Leo so clearly needed threated to bring on another panic attack. But when he had headed for the door just now, her stomach had dropped and her heart had felt as if it had stopped. She had been filled with an overwhelming dread that he might not come back. That he was leaving her to have this baby alone. She knew that she could do it if she had to. But in the second that she thought that Leo might be walking away, she wanted him by her side. Chaos and all. They had made this new life together, and she wanted to find a way for them to be a family.
She cleared away a few pieces from the table—for no reason other than that she didn’t want to be just sitting waiting for him when he got back. So when she heard his footsteps at the door, she had her back to him, running something under the tap and holding her breath.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said eventually, in a shaky voice redolent of raw emotion.
She stared into the sink a little longer, gathering her thoughts, and fighting down the swell of tears that seemed to be climbing her throat. She couldn’t account for them, couldn’t reason why the croak of his voice made hers swell with sympathy.
‘I’m sorry, too.’ She turned off the tap and slumped back against the sink, relief washing through her. ‘I shouldn’t have made those plans without you.’
‘And I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that. I’m genuinely sorry. But there are some things we need to talk about if we’re going to make this work. I know you like to have everything all worked out, but I can’t do that.’
‘So what am I meant to do? Just wait and see if you turn up at my office again?’ She tried to laugh, to pretend she could live like that, but it sounded hollow even to her.
‘Would that be so bad? I’d make sure I was there when you—when the baby—needed me. Does everything need to be planned months in advance?’
Her spine straightened again; Leo’s presence was seemingly anathema to serenity. ‘And is that what I should tell my doctor? Oh, I’ll definitely come along at some point. An appointment? No. I’ll just arrive when I’m ready.’
‘And what about the baby—is he allowed to arrive when he’s ready, or are you going to hold him to whatever due date the doctors pull out of the air? I hope for his sake he isn’t late.’
She was about to snap back, when her train of thought faltered and her voice failed. ‘Wait, he?’ she asked, with the beginnings of a smile tweaking her lips. ‘Who says it’s a boy?’
His face softened, and for the first time she saw the hard expression around his eyes ease, and his usual humorous glint return. She found she was relieved to see it, had been worried for a few moments that she and the baby had caused its disappearance to become permanent. It had been his determination to make her laugh that had drawn them together that first night, and she was worried that without that humour between them the very foundations they were working on were unsteady.
‘I don’t know. In my head, when I think about how things will be, I just always see a boy.’
‘You’ve thought about it?’
His eyes bugged.
‘Have I thought about it? What else am I meant to think about? Have you thought about anything else?’
‘No,’ she admitted. ‘So what do you?’
He raised an eyebrow by way of a question. ‘What do I...?’
‘What do you think, when you think about it?’
He crossed to the table and dropped into a seat, reaching for his abandoned cup of coffee. A smile was creeping across her face at the sight of the hint of a grin on his. He thought about their baby. The knowledge glowed inside her. ‘I don’t know. Just flashes of things, I suppose.’
‘Good things?’
