Double Trouble: Pregnancy Surprise. Caroline Anderson
to hold her, what it felt like to touch her, to bury himself inside her—
He swallowed hard. No. He couldn’t let himself think about that. It was too soon; he was way off being allowed that close to her. But he wanted her, wanted to touch her, to hold her, to feel her warmth.
God, he was lonely. So damned lonely without her.
So he couldn’t do this, couldn’t throw in the towel, give up on his beautiful little girls and run away, because she’d teased him about the bloody garlic!
With a shaky sigh, he started the engine, pulled out of the car park, shot back down the slip road onto the A12 and went back to his wife.
He wasn’t coming back.
She’d sat in the window, huddled by the glass with a fleece wrapped round her shoulders and waited until the pub was shut, but there was still no sign of him.
What if he’d broken down? What if he’d gone off the road in a fit of temper? He seemed so angry these days, angrier than she’d ever seen him. Was that her fault? It must be. What else could it be?
And now he was who knew where, maybe lying upside down in a ditch full of water.
Lights sliced across the garden, blinding her with the glare of his headlamps as he turned in and cut the engine. The security lights came on as he got out of the car, and then she heard the car door slam and his feet crunch across the gravel as he approached the front door.
He paused and looked at her through the window, his face sombre, and then, with a slight shake of his head, he walked to the door, and she heard it open and close. Then he was there, filling the hall doorway with his brooding, silent presence.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said.
‘No, I’m sorry,’ she said, getting up and walking towards him, her foot a little stiff from sitting with it tucked under her for so long while she watched for him. ‘I shouldn’t have been so mean to you.’
‘It’s OK. It’s not your fault,’ he said gruffly. ‘I overreacted.’
‘No, you didn’t. You were doing your best. I know you can’t cook, and I should have given you more help, not just flung you in at the deep end and expected you to cope because you criticised me.’
‘I didn’t. Or, at least, I didn’t mean to. I was just asking. I’m sorry if it came over as criticism.’
So many sorries. From Max? She shook her head slowly and went over to the Aga. ‘Forget it. Have you eaten?’
‘No. I was going home. I’d got to the M25 before I came to my senses.’
She frowned. ‘That’s fifty miles!’
‘I know. I was—Well, let’s just say it took a while for me to calm down. Which is ridiculous. So, in answer to your question, no, I haven’t eaten, and yes, please, if it isn’t ruined. Not that I think you could ruin it. I’d already done a fair job.’
‘It’ll be fine,’ she told him, determined to eat it if it choked her. ‘So, I believe I was going to pour you a glass of wine?’
He gave a choked laugh. ‘That sounds good.’
‘Red or white?’
He smiled. ‘I’ll finish the red. It’ll balance the garlic,’ he said with irony, and she smiled back and handed him the bottle and a glass. She turned back to the paella, taking the lid off and blinking at the smell, but she dished up without a word, and they sat down at the table and ate it in a slightly strained and civilised silence, until finally Max pushed it away and met her eyes.
‘Bit heavy on the seasoning for me,’ he said wryly, and she put her fork down and smiled with him.
‘I’m not really hungry,’ she lied. ‘Shall I make some tea?’
‘No. I’m fine with the wine, but I could do with some toast or something.’
‘Cheese and biscuits? Or I might be able to find an apple pie in the freezer I could put in the oven?’
‘Sounds nice. We can have it later, after the cheese and biscuits.’
She chuckled and cleared away the table, put the cheese and biscuits out and the apple pie in the oven, then got herself a glass and poured a little wine into it.
‘Sorry, I didn’t realise you wanted some.’
‘It’s OK. I don’t usually, because I’m still feeding them, but tonight—well, I just thought I’d join you.’
‘Feel free.’
She swirled it round in the glass, then met his eyes over the top of it. ‘So—why were you so angry?’ she asked tentatively. ‘It wasn’t just the garlic thing.’
He sighed sharply and ran his hand through his hair, then met her eyes again. ‘I don’t know, it’s—Well, it’s this place, really.’
‘The cottage? It’s lovely!’
‘Oh, I’m sure, but I just hate the idea of it. You’re my wife, Jules. I don’t want you living in another man’s house.’
She pulled back and leant against the chair, eyeing him over the table and wondering if she’d been a bit too quick to forgive. ‘Isn’t it fortunate, then, that it’s nothing to do with you? Because we’re happy here.’
‘And you couldn’t be happy in your own house?’
‘You mean your own house?’
He sighed. ‘No, yours. I’d buy you one—in your own name. God knows I owe you that, at the very least, if you won’t come back to me. We’re talking about housing my children, for heaven’s sake.’
‘I can house your children.’
‘Yes, in someone else’s house, living off his generosity! I don’t like it, Jules. I don’t like it at all. I don’t like staying here, I don’t like the idea that he could come back at any time and have the right to be here. I want privacy while we sort this out, and all the time I feel as if I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.’
She studied him thoughtfully for a moment, then gave a gentle sigh. ‘Well, then, perhaps it’s just as well that you want to buy me a house, because he’s coming back in a month and I’m going to be homeless.’
His eyes narrowed. ‘You could always come back to me.’
‘What, to the apartment? I hardly think so.’
‘We could buy a house in London. Hampstead, or somewhere like that, or Barnes or Richmond—’
‘Or I could stay here in Suffolk, near my friends.’
‘You’ve got friends here?’
He sounded so shocked and surprised she nearly laughed. ‘Well, of course I have. Jane and Peter, and I’ve made other friends, lots of them, through the hospital and the twins’ support group, and the Real Nappy network—’
‘The what?’
‘The Real Nappy network. And there’s a coffee group for young mums in the village which I go to.’
He stared at her as if she’d sprouted horns.
‘So—you want to stay out here?’
‘Yes. At least—until we know how it’s going to go with us. I don’t have any infrastructure in London, Max. I’d be so lonely there, and I know if we’re in London you’ll just be off all the time, popping into the office for a minute or whatever, and before I know what’s what you’ll be in New York or Tokyo or Sydney.’
‘OK. So you want a house here. Are there any for sale?’
She did laugh at that. ‘I have no idea, Max. I haven’t been looking.’
‘So