‘No.’ His shoulders stiffened. ‘I’m confident I’ll know the things not to do.’
‘How?’
‘I wasn’t always rich,’ he reminded her, and she watched his Adam’s apple drop and rise in the now open collar at his throat. The tie was gone. Laced over the arm of the chair. ‘Our child will never have to worry about trading skills or finding the easiest route to a major city. I can provide all the things I never had.’
‘Money doesn’t equal happiness. Money doesn’t mean love.’ She shook her head, another long strand of hair breaking free of her loose bun. She reached up and pulled out the hair tie. Shook her head again until her hair fell about her shoulders. ‘It’s made of paper.Thingsdon’t raise a baby. People do.’ She pushed the black band onto her wrist and turned her gaze to his. ‘Wewill.’
A pulse hammered in his cheek. ‘Money will provide the foundations.’ He unhooked his leg, planted his feet squarely on the cream rug beneath his feet. ‘It will provide all the things we spoke about. Protection. Safety. Food. Central heating.’
‘I was always warm...’ An image of her mother and father flashed in her head, with their big smiles and open arms. ‘Always safe.’ She blinked away the unexpected tears obscuring her view. ‘I never had to worry about the plumbing...the bills,’ she continued, with a lump in her throat. ‘If I was cold, my mum and my dad they turned up the heating. Hugged me. Wrapped me in a blanket. Tucked me into bed...’ She whimpered and the dam broke.
He stood, but she held up an open palm.
‘Please, don’t touch me.’
He froze, eyes wide, and stared at her. ‘Why not?’
‘Because if you do—’ she scrubbed the back of her hand across her eyes ‘—I’ll cry.’
‘You’re already crying.’
She snorted. ‘Oh, my God!’ She pulled at the end of her jumper until it swallowed her hand and rubbed it across her offensive nose. How dared it make such a sound in front of—?
She looked up at the man watching her so intently. ‘I don’t usually make piggy sounds,’ she promised, attempting a smile. But it felt too tight. Too pinched.
‘It’s not every day you take a pregnancy test.’
She looked at the test.
Her parents had claimed her. Wanted her. Always loved their adopted miracle baby.
No, they had always lovedher, she realised. After London, after the file, there had only been one place she wanted to run to. Straight into the arms of her mum. Straight back home. Because that was where she’d always felt safe. Even though there were things her parents hadn’t told her. Even though they’d sheltered her.
‘Why are you so afraid when your childhood was a place of warmth?’
His question broke into the realisation it had taken her too long to understand. Her parents loved her.
‘It’s not just fear,’ she admitted. She saw it then. The flicker of his shadowed jaw. The thud of apprehension. ‘I’m notjustafraid. I’m feeling a whole host of things I don’t know what to do with.’
‘You’re allowed to feel everything,’ he assured her. ‘You can cry.’ He winked.‘Snort.’
This time, her smile was genuine.
‘I burst into your life and turned it upside down. You will find your feet,’ he promised, ‘and I will help.’
‘How can you guide me when you don’t know the way, either? When you don’t know me?’
‘What do you think I need to know?’
‘I...’
The room felt too small. Airless. He deserved the redacted parts of her story too, didn’t he? The parts only she knew.
She dragged in a fortifying breath. ‘How much of the report on me did you read?’
‘The important bits.’
‘Which were...?’ she pressed. Because she needed to know what he already knew and the parts she’d have to tell him.
