Baby's On The Way!. Rebecca Winters
the initial gigantic I-don’t-know-what-the-hell-is-going-to-happen-next panic had receded slightly, the day after she’d taken the pregnancy test, she’d started to think more and more about the baby growing inside her. About bringing a new life into the world, and excitement had grown and grown. Her thoughts about Leo? Still bound up with an almighty warning sign. And seeing his home, the centre of his disorder, hadn’t helped. She rubbed her belly, thinking soothing thoughts, not wanting to inflict her worries on her baby. It seemed important already that she didn’t allow her concerns to become his, or hers. Not as her parents had with her.
She turned as she heard Leo’s footsteps on the stairs, and he appeared around the curve of the staircase in clean jeans and a black T-shirt, his hair a little damp.
‘Sorry to abandon you like that. I looked in the mirror and thought I’d gone prematurely grey so I jumped in the shower to get rid of the dust.’
She smiled as she transferred coffee pot, mugs and cake to the table. ‘And here was me thinking the shock had sent you all Marie Antoinette.’
He raised an eyebrow, questioning.
‘Hair went white overnight? Never mind, obscure reference. Coffee and cake?’
‘Sounds good,’ Leo said, pulling out a chair and dropping into it. She watched his hands as he hacked a couple of wedges of cake, impressed and wondering whether she now had a pregnancy get-out clause when it came to denying her sweet tooth. She pulled up the chair beside him and poured the coffee, sending him sideways glances, wondering if he was finding this sudden domesticity as strange as she was. Bizarre, she thought. That she could find something so ordinary as coffee and cake new and nerve-racking when they were already somehow a family.
Rachel sipped the coffee and flinched when it scalded her lips. But it was worth it for the familiar caffeine buzz. The smell, even the taste, made her feel more comfortable. More herself. And the act of sitting at a great big table with a hot cup of coffee was all she needed to get her brain in gear, and have her reaching for her tablet. She grabbed her handbag, which she’d left propped by the chair, and pulled out all the plans she’d made since she’d first read Pregnant on that test. They had a lot to discuss, and it made sense to start work, she thought. She pulled herself up slightly on the word work; technically this was personal. But her—their—new life was going to take so much organising that it might as well be work. It was easier to think of it that way. To slot Leo and their child and all the changes they represented into her life as she would any other project. Because what was the alternative—chucking out everything she thought she knew and starting again?
But when she’d spread out her tablet and binders and looked up, she found Leo staring at her, a grimace on his face. She faltered slightly at the hard lines of his brows. The white knuckles of his fists.
‘What are they?’ The words were forced through his teeth, none too friendly. She glanced down—a little confused about how this had caused so much hostility. It wasn’t as if he even knew what her plans contained. He’d gone white even at the thought of them.
‘It’s a tablet.’ She spoke slowly, treading carefully in light of his sudden shift in mood. Not wanting to upset things further. ‘And some charts. I had a few ideas about how we’re going to make this work. I thought you might want to talk them through.’
‘Oh, you did?’ He took a long sip of his coffee—diversionary tactic, she guessed. ‘And here was me thinking you were about to present me with a finished plan.’ She dropped her eyes and felt her cheeks warm—it had never occurred to her to wait until she’d spoken to him before drawing up their options. But now they were laid out in front of her, and Leo was so obviously fighting to keep his annoyance under control, she could see that he was right.
‘Did you just expect me to go along with everything you’d decided?’
Well, it wasn’t as if he’d made any suggestions—it had been all down to her.
But when could he have contributed? She’d not seen him since they’d found out the news; she hadn’t given him a chance. ‘I’m sorry. I should have spoken to you first.’ Her plans were good, though, thorough. They covered myriad scenarios with timetables, budgets and schedules. And of course Leo had a say. But she was the one carrying the baby. She was the one who would have to take time off for the birth. She was the one who would have to decide whether, and how, she could return to work.
She was the one who would have to put what little she recognised of her life back together after the baby was born.
And it wasn’t as if she hadn’t considered what Leo wanted. She’d given him plenty of options, with his involvement ranging from full-time parenting to ‘financial contribution only’. Even—though nothing she’d seen of Leo so far told her that she’d need it—a ‘no involvement’ plan.
‘I thought we were going to have a coffee.’ Leo’s tone was still harsh, and he gripped his mug as if struggling to keep his temper.
‘Can’t we drink and talk?’
‘Sure, we can drink and talk. But that’s not what you’re suggesting. You want to drink and work.’
He was beyond tense now, and heading directly for angry. His body language was defensive, closed, and she could see from the lines of fear on his face that she’d stumbled into deeper waters than she’d thought. He wasn’t just angry at her for doing this without him. Her temper had lit in response to his, but she forced it down, trying to keep neutral. Trying to understand what had him so wary. If she blew up, too, they’d never talk this through.
‘We don’t have to do this all today. But I’d like to make a start, if we can. We’ve got quite a lot to get through—’
‘Get through?’ He slammed his mug onto the table, and hot coffee spilled onto the wood, creeping towards her papers. She pulled them back, eyeing Leo, suddenly realising she’d completely underestimated how badly she’d read him, how much distance there was between them. How impossible it was going to be to create a family out of this mess. ‘I’m not a project, Rachel. I’m not a client or a boss or someone you’re giving a presentation to. This isn’t going to be solved over a working lunch and a follow-up email.’
‘But—’
‘No!’
Rachel set her cup down slowly, willing herself to remain calm in the face of his raw emotion, wishing she could understand what was making him react this way. She hadn’t expected this to be easy, but she hadn’t expected such vehement opposition, either. She shut her eyes and counted to ten, hoping that when she opened them again Leo would’ve lost the frightened, cornered, angry look that twisted his features—usually so effortlessly sexy—into something ugly.
She looked up. He had calmed a little, the redness draining from his face, but there were still deep creases between his brows, and his mouth was set in a harsh line.
‘I’m sorry, but I cannot have your plan dictated to me and just go along with it.’ The clipped consonants and snappy vowels gave away the effort that near-civility was costing him. ‘I know you need this. I know you want everything decided, booked, settled. But it’s not just you now. Can’t you see that?’ He could see it, and he didn’t know how to get away from it. ‘If we decide something, we have to do it together. I will not let you plan and schedule and itemise my life just because I happened to get you pregnant. That doesn’t give you the right to come in here and tell me how it’s going to be.’
‘I’ve given you choices...options.’ Finally she couldn’t keep the anger from her own voice. With the venom contained in his, it didn’t seem optional—it was a necessity. A way to fend off his biting accusations.
‘You don’t get to give me anything. That’s not how together works.’
‘What’s made you so scared?’ she asked. ‘Tell me why my having a plan freaks you out. Because as far as I can see, with us barely knowing each other, and living hours