Chapter Eight

      Any minute now she’d have her answer.

      Three different pregnancy tests sat in a row on the marble counter top in the en-suite bathroom of Maggie’s hotel room. She’d used a pink one, a blue one, and one that gave the result in words – “Pregnant” or “Not Pregnant”.

      Which would it be? Maggie was desperate to know. She’d been a little bit afraid to find out until Alex persuaded her to go for it. He was too funny offering to trade her a whale-watch for an A-list weekend in New York. Was he serious? Who wouldn’t want to be his date? Or, in her case, not-a-date.

      He’d been sweet tonight. They were getting into the swing of this just-good-friends thing, like they were going back to square one. It felt good, really good. Except the kiss had been a blip. It wasn’t just the Jago factor, she fancied the pants off him, and if she went to New York, she might not be able to help herself, she might end up tearing his clothes off.

       Awkward.

      She’d buried her feelings for him years ago, but she and Alex had an unfinished fling between them, and she couldn’t be sure of sticking to her own rules. What if she actually wanted him to try out some of those dodgy vampire moves after all?

      Impossible to avoid her reflection in the vast bathroom mirror, she looked into it and gave herself a wicked little smile.

       Some rules are made to be broken.

      She checked her watch. Two minutes to go. She lowered the lid on the toilet and plonked herself there, picking at the purple varnish on her thumbnail as the seconds counted down. When the time was up she carried on picking.

      There was a lump in her throat as if she’d swallowed a bar of hotel soap. Why was she doing this?

      She wanted a baby because she wanted to put everything right that had been wrong in her own childhood. As a little girl she’d learned to fade into the background, being good, keeping quiet, trying not to be a nuisance. She didn’t ask too many questions. The answers hurt too much. Deep down she knew that she’d been rejected by her mother because she reminded her of her dad. She looked at Maggie and saw Sam, and if she couldn’t have Sam, she didn’t want Maggie. She’d overheard her mother say so just days before she left. Standing outside the kitchen door she’d watched through a crack while her mother ripped up photos, her face tear-blotched. “Why does she have to look just like him?” she’d spluttered at Maggie’s grandmother. “I don’t see any Plumtree in her at all. She’s got his eyes, his hair, his smile.” She’d sounded cross, exasperated that her daughter had failed to be a mini version of herself. “She’s arty like he was – a useless, head-in-the-clouds, fly-by-night … Why couldn’t he stay alive? He didn’t even do that much right!”

      Maggie’s sense of cold confusion was stamped on her memory. With a sperm-donor dad there was no danger that she’d ever end up so angry and disappointed with her own child. She was ready to be the mum she wished she’d had. For her it would be better without the mangled emotion of loving the baby’s dad.

      A wave of nauseous panic hit Maggie. She couldn’t bring herself to look at the test results. She needed a friend to look for her and tell her yes or no.

      There was nothing else for it. She grabbed all three of the tests. Looking away and keeping her hand firmly over the result windows, she opened the bathroom door and marched into the bedroom.

      Alex was standing by the window, staring out into the night. He turned to look at her, six foot plus of awesome man with the bluest eyes she’d ever seen.

      “So?” Silence. “And?” Silence. “Please, Maggie. Don’t keep me in suspense.”

      Silence. Maggie closed her eyes and stretched her arm out to him, fingers still wrapped around the test windows. Silence.

      “I can’t look.”

      Alex took her hand gently in his and unwound her fingers. “Would you like me to look for you?” His deep voice made her nerves jangle all the more.

      “Yes please.” Face unattractively contorted, she opened one eye, and kept the other scrunched closed.

      “Ready?” He was still holding her hands in his, balancing the clutch of tests in their joined fingers as if they were as delicate as eggs.

      “Uh-huh.” She opened the other eye. “Ready.”

      Silence.

      “Well?”

      “You’re having a baby!” He rumbled out the gravelly words on a breath.

      “I am? Are you sure?”

      “Look for yourself.”

      She clutched the sticks and stared. Sure enough: blue lines, pink lines and the word “Pregnant” in clear black letters.

      “Should I do another one just to make sure? I’ve got one that shows up a plus or a negative sign. It might be more scientific.”

      “You don’t need a control test. You’ve done three already. There’s no doubt about it. You’re pregnant.”

      Maggie’s emotions had gone from panic and fear to disbelief, and finally pure joy.

      “Oh my stars. This is fantastic. I can hardly believe it’s happening. I’m pregnant.” She beamed. “I’m having a baby.”

      “Yep. It says it right there. You’re going to be a mom.”

      “Wow. It’s all I’ve wanted for the longest time. A real family of my own.”

      “Cool.” His voice had turned to a solemn rasp. “It’s great. Well done, Maggie.” It felt like he was going to pat her on the back, or shake her hand, or something. She wanted to hug him, but she held back.

      “You can kiss goodbye to sleep. And sex. Oh no, wait a minute.” He clapped a hand to his forehead theatrically, “Silly me. You already did that.”

      Why couldn’t he say he was pleased for her?

      “I’m not a nun,” she retaliated.