Accidental Baby. KIM LAWRENCE
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Liam’s head went back as though she’d struck him. ‘I don’t make a habit of acting so recklessly,’ he grated from between clenched teeth.
Jo gave a sigh; this was getting them nowhere. ‘I know that, Liam,’ she said, wiping the back of her hand across her brow and feeling the light sheen of perspiration there. ‘Will you stop pacing? It’s making me dizzy.’
He was acting like a caged animal and that was probably what he felt like. Maybe one day Liam would reach the point in his life when he wanted to think about families and stability, but this wasn’t that point. I don’t want an unwilling captive, Liam, she wanted to say.
‘I’m the father.’ His blue eyes didn’t waver from hers as he sat down beside her on the old leather chesterfield.
She nodded solemnly and willed the emotional tears not to fall. ‘Don’t do that,’ she pleaded, wincing as the flexed joints of his interlocked fingers snapped. He looked at her blankly. ‘You’ll get arthritis.’ She reached out and touched his hand.
A faint movement of his lips disturbed the solemnity of his expression as he regarded her small hand against his darker skin. ‘Sounds like an old wives’ tale rather than scientific fact to me, Jo.’
‘Don’t knock old wives, they knew a thing or two.’ He turned his hands and her own were sandwiched between his. She looked up, startled. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, Liam.’ The words came pouring out. ‘I wanted to, but it’s not the sort of thing you can add as a postscript to a letter, is it?’ Her eyes begged his understanding of the situation she’d found herself in. ‘What could you have done? There’s no way I would have had an abortion. Whichever way you look at it this is my problem, not yours.’
Her first instinct had been to call him. All she’d wanted was his arms around her, his telling her it would be all right, as he’d done innumerable times at crisis points in the past. It hadn’t really mattered that it wouldn’t be true this time. Liam was the person she always ran to when she was in trouble. It had taken a lot of self-control not to pick up the phone or, better still, catch the first plane.
The transitory softening of Liam’s features was replaced by hard anger as she announced her view of the situation. ‘And do you think I’d have asked you to have an abortion? Is that the sort of man you think I am, Jo?’ He shook his head slowly in disbelief.
‘It was never an option so it doesn’t really matter what I think,’ she faltered under the weight of his anger.
‘It sure as hell matters to me!’
‘Liam, you’re hurting me.’
Liam looked down and was surprised to see her small, delicate hand still ruthlessly crushed between his fingers. ‘Sorry.’ He was breathing hard, his chest rising and falling steeply, as he released her. ‘I won’t let you shut me out, Jo.’
‘Whatever made you think I’d try?’ she responded immediately. ‘Of course this is your child, and he or she will know it, and know you, Liam. My friendship with you has always been one of the most important things in my life,’ she said, her voice husky with emotion. ‘But we have to be practical. We didn’t plan this. You didn’t want to become a father, at least not to my child.’ The pain was sharp, and it went surprisingly deep, but she continued in a composed voice.
‘I know we can’t pretend it didn’t happen any more, but equally we can’t pretend we’re suddenly in love.’ She gave a sad smile. ‘Even if it would make your mother a deliriously happy woman. I’m not trying to sideline you at all, Liam, only it’s not your body that’s involved in all this.’ She placed a protective hand over her belly. ‘There’s a limit to what you can do.’
Despite all these flawlessly logical arguments, Liam found himself unexpectedly assailed by a nagging sense of dissatisfaction. ‘You can’t do it all alone.’
Jo shrugged. ‘People do, and with a lot less family support than I have.’
‘What about after the. . . after the. . . ?’
‘Birth?’ she suggested. She watched him shake his head as though the idea still seemed incredible to him. ‘Don’t worry,’ she said kindly, ‘you’ll get used to the idea.’ Liam shot her a strange look. ‘I did,’ she continued. ‘I’m healthy and there’s no reason I can’t work right up to the last minute. Afterwards I’ve arranged to share a nanny—a three-way split, really, with friends of mine.’
‘You’ve really got this all worked out, haven’t you?’ He was looking at her as if he’d never actually seen her before.
‘Burying my head in the sand was never an option, Liam.’
‘Didn’t it occur to you I might want to help with the baby, afterwards?’
‘You?’ Laughter was a welcome release really from all the tension. ‘S. . . sorry—’ she hiccoughed ‘—we’ve got to be realistic here, Liam. Your lifestyle isn’t exactly conducive to child-rearing. You can’t just transport a baby around like hand baggage; there’s a bit more to it than that.’
‘I’m aware of that.’
‘All right, there’s no need to get huffy. One day you’ll meet someone you’ll want to have a baby with. Maybe I will too.’ It could be that paragon did exist somewhere.
‘You’ve become an expert on the subject suddenly, then?’ he snarled rather unpleasantly.
‘I’ve read a lot.’
‘Ah, read,’ he drawled sarcastically. ‘My sister had read a lot,’ he recalled. ‘She threw her library in the bin when Liam was six months. Babies trash plans.’
Trust him to zero in on her unspoken doubts and fears. ‘I’m flexible.’
‘Flexible enough to hold down a job that gives you the social life of a nun?’ he enquired sceptically. ‘Isn’t it this year they promised you a partnership? Wasn’t that why you lost the inestimable Justin? You couldn’t spare enough time to polish his ego, how the hell are you going to look after a baby?’
‘Well, even nuns have nights off—I’ve got some fairly conclusive proof of that!’
Liam’s eyes closed and he struck his forehead with his clenched fist. ‘Oh, Jo, what have I done to you? Your career, your plans. I know how hard you’ve worked.’
‘I was there too, remember.’ Passive she had not been.
‘Yes, as a matter of fact I do.’
Under the relentless scrutiny of his direct, unblinking gaze she found her throat closing as simultaneously her limbs grew heavy and totally uncooperative. At least I’m sitting down—falling in a heap would have given rise to unhealthy speculation.
‘There’s no point crying over spilt milk,’ she concluded with painfully false cheerfulness.
‘A novel euphemism.’
‘There’s no need to be snide and clever, Liam. We made a mistake, that’s what it all boils down to. I’m not going to let this baby suffer for that.’
‘A mistake.’ She couldn’t understand the bitterness in his deep voice.
‘Well, it wasn’t as if we intended such a tangible result of our. . . our. . . ’ She chewed on her lower lip and evinced a sudden and deep interest in the ugly print of a pheasant on the wall behind his head.
‘Words fail me too,’ he said, unexpectedly coming to her aid. ‘And that’s a problem I don’t normally have,’ he admitted frankly.
‘No, you always have had a lot to say for yourself,’ she agreed huskily. Could it be that Liam had been less successful than she’d imagined at wiping out the memory?
‘How did your dad take it, Jo?’
‘He thinks this