laughed—“it’s just staggering. Nothing prepares you for it.”
I knew exactly how he felt. I was sorry for his ex-wife; I didn’t even know her name, but here I was learning all about her private medical history. My mind was racing. She’d gotten pregnant so easily. Tom had proven he could make a woman pregnant. Wasn’t it much more likely that the baby was his? My head pounded. I didn’t want his baby. I did want this baby, though.
“So who do you think is more likely to be the father?” His voice was soft and persuasive. “Your husband? Really?”
I looked down, feeling sick again. “Yes. Really.”
He touched my hand. “Did you think the problem lay with you?” he asked gently. “Is that what’s been on your mind all these years?”
I couldn’t speak.
“Maybe the two of you together . . . maybe it was never going to happen that way. That’s not uncommon, you know. And now that you’re with someone different . . .”
“I’m not with you!”
“Not now,” he said. “But you were. And this is my baby, so who knows what’s going to happen?”
He leaned forward and I could smell coffee, sour on his breath. I tried to lean back, to keep my distance, but his eyes were fixed on mine and I didn’t seem able to move. “I would have thought,” he said, “that a woman of your age who thought there was the slightest chance she might get pregnant would be very sure to use contraception if she slept with another man.”
“Do you really think I carry condoms around with me on the off-chance I’m going to sleep with someone?”
He shrugged. “I have no idea. But if I’d been in your position, I would have made sure I didn’t get pregnant.”
“And vice versa.”
He laughed. “You took me by surprise.”
I’d had enough. “Do you like black-and-white movies?”
He looked startled at the change of subject. “Yeah, some. Why?”
“Oh, I saw one the other day. It was called Gaslight. Have you seen it?”
Slowly he shook his head.
“You remind me of someone in it. But you know what?” I leaned forward and whispered, so that he had to lean forward to hear me. “I can see through you.”
He sat back and drank some water. I would have bet my house that he wished it was vodka. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Really?” I stood up, took some money for my drink out of my purse, and put it on the table. “Maybe you should watch it.”
“Don’t go yet,” he said. “What are we going to do about it? About the baby?”
“We’re not doing anything about anything.” I put my face down close to his. “I am happily married. I love my husband. You and I had one night. One night! And you think that’s enough to get me pregnant?”
“One night, maybe, but three times.”
I flushed. “It makes no difference,” I said. “Don’t come near me again.”
* * *
? ? ?
I hurried back to my office. Annie was talking to someone in the kitchen at the end of the corridor so I managed to sneak into our office to pick up my emergency toiletry bag from my desk drawer. In the bathroom I brushed my teeth and tried to sort out my hair and face. I still looked shocking, though, and when Annie came back into our office, she took one look at me and said, “Are you okay? You look terrible! You should go home to bed.”
“I will, just as soon as we’ve talked about your meeting in London.” She was going there that morning to talk to a couple of fashion designers about their new website, and we needed to go through some figures and dates before she went.
“Don’t worry about that,” she said. “I can call you from the train. Have you caught a bug?”
I shook my head. I couldn’t be bothered trying to fool her; she’d know soon enough. “No, nothing like that.”