[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
.His driving style is matching his mood; subdued. Where am I going? he asks as he turns the music system on and XX, Islands filters through thespeakers.Even the music is passive and soft.I scan my brain for a road name around the surgery, and only one comes to mind. LuxemburgGardens.Hammersmith. I say, looking out of the window. Okay, he answers quietly.I know he s looking at me.I should turn and challenge him, prompthim to explain himself better, but my despondency is getting the better of me.He d better notmistake it for submission.I m not surrendering on this.I just need to get myself to the doctor,minus one Jesse, and get my awful situation remedied.* * *He pulls into Luxemburg Gardens and drives slowly down the tree lined street. Here will do. Iindicate to the left, and he pulls over.Now I pray that he doesn t hang about. Thank you, I openthe door. You re welcome. he murmurs.I know if I turn and look at him, I ll see cogs whirling at a millionmiles per hour and a concerned frown set in place on his handsome head, so I don t.I step out ofthe car. Will you have dinner with me tonight? he asks urgently, like he knows his chance isslipping.I take a deep breath and turn back towards the car. You just asked for ten minutes, and I gavethem to you.You said nothing. I leave a despairing face of hurt and make my way across theroad, but suddenly come to an abrupt halt when it occurs to me that I have no client s house inwhich to disappear.I need to back-track at least half a mile, and I can t do that with Jesse sat atthe kerb in his car.I pull my bag open and feign searching for something while mentally prayingfor him to leave.I listen out for the roar, or possible purr, of the DBS and after what seems likeforever, it finally reaches my ears.It s a purr.I look over my shoulder and watch his car disappeardown the tree lined street before I head back the way we came and over to Brook Green.I feelnauseous, but I put it down to nerves.I m not sure how I m going to approach this.After mynumerous visits to our family doctor, seeking replacement pills and the lectures I received fromher each time, I m facing a grilling and an even sterner talk on carelessness.She ll think I m aglutton for punishment.I think I probably am.I check myself in and pick up a magazine from the waiting room table, then spend twenty minutespretending to read it.I m fidgeting and pulling at my clothes to try and cool myself down.I really dofeel sick, my nauseous state only worsened when, like an omen, I come across an articleexpressing the arguments for and against termination.A despairing laugh falls from my lips. Something funny?I freeze in my waiting room chair as Jesses familiar brogue washes over me, then I snap themagazine shut. You followed me? I ask, completely stunned as I turn to face him. You re a rubbish liar, baby. he states factually, but softly.He s right, I m shit at it, but I need towork on it if I m going to stay with this man.If I m going to stay? Did I really just think that? Areyou going to tell me why you re at the doctors and why you lied to me about it? He rests his handon my bare knee and circles it slowly as he watches me intently. I throw the magazine back on the table.There is no escaping this man. Just a check-up. I mutterto my knee, trying to shift it from his grasp. A check-up? His tone has altered significantly.He s not soft and soothing anymore.There s anedge of anger to it.I feel his hand tighten.He cannot dictate this. Yes, Don t you think we should we doing this together? he asks.Together? My shock makes my angry eyes swing straight to his, finding curious greens greetingme.I scan his face, just as he does mine, and his hand eases up on my knee.I yank my leg away. Like the decision you made to try and get me knocked up? Did we do that together? No, he answers quietly, turning away from me.I stare at his perfect profile, unwilling to relent and turn away.He has some nerve and now mydespondency has been thoroughly chased away and replaced with my earlier anger, only now it samplified. You can t even look at me, can you? You know what you ve done is wrong.I pray toGod I m not pregnant, Jesse, because I wouldn t inflict the shit you put me through on my worstenemy, let alone my baby.It s him who looks shocked now.His eyes are narrowed, his hair starting to dampen at histemples from a stressed sweat. I know you re pregnant, and I know how it ll be. Oh? I don t bother restraining my laugh. How s that, then?His face softens and he makes my heart slow when he reaches for my cheek and gently strokes it.My lips part slightly and his thumb runs over my bottom one, dragging it with his stroke as hewatches. Perfect. he whispers, flicking his eyes to mine.Our gazes are locked for a short time, but I m snapped from the spell that he places me underwhen my name is called, and I m swiftly brought back to where I am and why.My anger swiftlyreturns, too.It wouldn t be perfect.Maybe for him, but for me it would be torture.I m not settingmyself up for that
[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
