anguish at the very mention of her name.
Perhaps he loved her, and that was her undoing. I frowned as unanswered questions filled my mind. Why do it all over again with me? Sheridan could have called for help when Kelly started bleeding, but she hadn’t. And now it would be the same with me. I realised with some clarity that what I felt for Daniel was dependence, not love. But how did he feel in return? The baby growing inside me was not his flesh and blood.
I combed my hair, then smeared a thin layer of Vaseline on my lips. Sheridan was away with Monica at a charity event in LA. I pulled up the strap on the pretty lace maternity dress that Daniel had loaned me. It was one of Sheridan’s, a red number that had been gifted by yet another up-and-coming designer.
The table in my basement room was set for two with plastic throwaway cutlery, and soft music played. Upstairs, Anna was cooking us a three-course meal. Daniel had gone to some lengths in order for me to have a nice night. But my days above ground had ended. He did not say as much, but I knew the trust between us was hanging by a thread.
Dabbing Sheridan’s perfume into the curve of my neck, I almost felt human again. Gasping, I placed a hand on the side of my stomach as my baby moved beneath my skin.
‘I’ll name you Tigger if you keep on bouncing around in there,’ I chuckled.
My baby girl was cramped but agile, and it had been a relief when I’d heard Dr Blumberg tell Sheridan that she was engaged, head down. At least she should not have the complication of a breech birth.
My heart skipped a beat as the lift came down. Smoothing my dress, I stood, feeling like a teenager on my first date. I had to get this right. I had to at least try.
‘You look beautiful,’ Daniel said, handing me a bunch of yellow roses.
I took them with gratitude, inhaling their sweet scent. I wanted to reply that I looked like a whale, but there was no place for the old Roz tonight. ‘Thanks,’ I said instead, too embarrassed to relay a compliment. Daniel may as well have stepped out of the cover of GQ magazine.
‘So where are we tonight?’ It had become our latest game. Daniel would describe the faraway places he had been to, transporting me into his world.
‘We’re in The Chequers, back in my hometown.’
Daniel regaled me with details of his favourite restaurant and the food they used to serve. He slid off his jacket and placed it on the back of the chair while I laid the roses to one side. I did not feel like food. I needed to get this over with; my heart was beating so hard I couldn’t take it any more.
I took a step towards him. I was barefoot, because Sheridan deemed heels to be a hazard, but my toenails looked pretty in pink. Rising up on my tiptoes, I stretched my arms around his neck. I inhaled citrus and spice, the tantalising scent of his aftershave, as I nuzzled his skin.
‘The food can wait,’ he said, his voice husky. He slid his arms around my expanding waist.
‘OK,’ I whispered breathlessly. It was hardly the most romantic setting, a heavily pregnant woman in a basement flat. But it was now or never. Every moment we had spent together had been leading up to this. It wasn’t that I wanted to sleep with him – I had to. Creating a bond between us gave me my best chance of staying alive. Time was running out, and there would be no use for me once my baby was born.
I allowed him to kiss me, deep and slow, before I followed him to the bed.
‘Are you sure?’ he said. ‘Because if you’d rather leave, I won’t stand in your way.’
I suppressed my surprise. It was a trick. He was testing me. I knew what would happen if I tried to escape.
‘I want to be here, with you,’ I lied, unbuttoning his shirt.
Daniel seemed pleased with my response as a slow smile crept on to his face. ‘Really?’
‘More than anything,’ I murmured, trying to clamber on to the bed. My stomach was not making this easy, and I had no idea how I could turn anyone on in my present state, much less a Hollywood superstar. ‘Sorry,’ I said, as the mattress bounced under my