'How about hot cakes with blueberries,' Louis said encouragingly. 'A nice short stack, guaranteed not to overwhelm a lady. And maybe a glass of wine?'
'Maybe hotcakes and tea,' Tori said gratefully, and Louis beamed and disappeared and Tori was left with Jake and his nice, sensible reaction.
She'd sweated over this moment for three weeks now. Tried to figure what to say. Now it had been said. She'd done what she'd come to do.
She didn't even need to stop and have hotcakes, she thought suddenly. She could go home. Only she wasn't going home. Not now. Not yet. She was sitting in a late-night diner with Jake, about to have hotcakes while he assimilated fatherhood into his life plan.
Sensibly.
Anger was rising again. Unreasonable? Maybe.
She wanted joy.
'How … ' he ventured at last.
'I had a contraceptive implant.' She'd rehearsed this question. 'They last for three years. Only then my life fell apart and I forgot it was due for replacement. The night … the night we … '
'Made love,' he said gently, and she stared at her hands and nodded.
'Made love,' she repeated softly. 'It was love, wasn't it. Of a sort. All I could think that night was that I needed-I wanted-you, and I thought, Yes, I'm protected. Even after-wards I didn't worry. Only then, when I tried to figure it out, all my records were burned in the fire. As were Dr. Susie's, so the letters that were supposed to go out reminding people of routine stuff were never sent. So there you are. Comedy of errors. Resulting in one baby.'
'Our baby.'
'If you want a say … '
'You're not considering termination?'
'No!'
'Why?'
'Micki's baby died. There's been enough death. I want this baby.'
Louis arrived then, with their meals. The normally jovial host had sussed them out by now. He left, with only a sideways, speculative glance at Jake.
'So you came to Manhattan just to tell me,' Jake said.
'I don't want anything from you, if that's what you mean.' She concentrated on her hotcakes and left him to his thoughts.
There were a million sensations running through him right now-shock, disbelief that this could be happening, overwhelming responsibility … yeah, and a healthy dose of fear, too. But the one that suddenly hit the top was anger.
'You'll take my help,' he snapped, before he could control the anger behind his words. 'It's my call, too, Tori. You have my baby, then I'm in the equation, like it or not. You'll stay here.'
Her face stilled. She met his gaze steadily, but he thought he saw a flash of fear behind her eyes. What had she expected?
What was she expecting?
'No,' she said. 'You know where my home is, and it's not here.'
'Your home's burned. Your home could be anywhere.'
'In your dreams.'
'Eat your dinner, Tori,' he said, forcing his tone to gentle, and almost to his surprise she did. She nodded and addressed herself again to her hotcakes.
They seemed to agree with her. His appetite had deserted him but he ate his burger on automatic pilot while Tori made her way through Louis's truly excellent hotcakes. She didn't speak. She drank her tea, cradling her cup as though she needed the comfort of its warmth.
She'd done some serious shopping, he thought, watching her. She looked great, in tight-fitting jeans, high boots, a tiny white coat. Then he realised she wouldn't be able to wear those jeans for much longer.
She was carrying his child. She was alone and she was pregnant.
She had to stay-but he couldn't force her.
'I didn't mean to scare you,' he said, and she flashed him a look of mistrust.
'This is new territory for both of us,' she murmured. 'Scary territory.'
'People do it all the time.'
'Not me. Not us.' Then she shrugged. 'Look, this has been a big shock to throw at you. It's after midnight. You must be exhausted. I know I am. I'm staying tomorrow so if you want to talk about it again … '
'You're staying tomorrow?'
'I have a flight booked the day after. I thought I'd take two days after the delivery, one to tell you and one to let you come to terms with it and yell.'
She was only half joking. She'd expected anger?
There was anger, he thought, but the anger wasn't at her. It was at himself. He'd met her when she was at her most vulnerable. Why had he ever touched her?
'We can't undo it,' she said, evenly and steadily, seemingly forcing herself to be calm. 'I'm sorry to give you this responsibility you don't want. I'm not sorry for me, though, so don't you be sorry for me either. I'm a big girl and I can cope with this. In fact, I intend to love this baby. I suspect all Combadeen will love it.' She rose. 'Can I catch a cab back at the hospital?
'Where are you staying?'
She told him and he frowned. 'It's Saturday night. That whole district parties. There's no way you'll sleep.'
'It looked fine.'
'When did you arrive?'
'Four. I came to the hospital almost straightaway.'
'And I made you wait … ' He was trying to get jumbled thoughts into order but it was like herding ants. All he could see was Tori's pale face, and all he could register was that this woman was carrying his child.
'Tell you what,' he said, noting her too-big eyes, the effort bravado was costing her, knowing half of her wanted to run. 'My apartment's got a great settee in the living room. There's more than enough sleeping space for two. I bought the place knowing I needed to sleep any time, so quiet's where it's at.'
'I don't want to stay with you.'
'You can trust me, Tori,' he said, gently but inexorably. 'Don't you?'
She stared at him for a long moment, a moment that stretched on into something far beyond trust for a night shared. It stretched into something that was important for their future. Shared parenting? And something more, he thought, but that was suddenly somewhere he didn't want to go. Not yet. Not ever?
'Let's get a cab,' he said, focusing on practicalities, because practicalities were all he could bear to think about. 'I'll take you to your hotel. If I'm exaggerating-if you think you can sleep there-then I'll leave you and we'll meet in the morning. But if what I say is true, will you trust me enough to bring your gear back to my apartment? Separate rooms, Tori. Nothing you don't want, I promise.'
'And you'll let me leave?'
'I don't have a choice.'
'No,' she said heavily. 'You don't.'
He was right, her hotel was appalling. They went back to his apartment. Jake slept on the settee. Tori slept in his room.
'I'll spend the night pacing,' he told her when she objected. 'So I might as well pace on the balcony. Once upon a time a man could go through a couple of packets of smokes in this situation. Now it's traffic fumes or nothing.'
She was so tired she hardly smiled. So he made up the settee for himself, and Tori lay in Jake's bed and thought she was so tired she should sleep, but sleep was a long time coming.
The bed was really comfortable and really big. Big enough to entertain?
There'd have been women. Of course there must have been women.
But none of them had stayed very long, she thought. This place was almost clinically austere.
Her little relocatable home had been austere and beige. This place was austere and grey.
Maybe it was chic, but she hated it just the same as she'd hated the drabness of her relocatable. It was cool and grey and impersonal.
She missed her dogs.
The dogs were fine. They'd hardly miss her. But there was no one-nothing-to hug.
There was silence from the sitting room. Maybe Jake wasn't serious about pacing. Maybe he'd said that to make her think he was taking her news seriously-that he thought it was a big deal.
He'd accepted it so smoothly. Maybe it had even happened before.
That was unthinkable.
But why should she lie here and want this baby to be as new and as wonderful an experience for Jake as it was for her?
It couldn't be, she thought. She and her baby would be in Australia. Jake would be here.
She'd organise videos.
Not of the birth, though, she thought hastily. There was no way she was going there. She'd do that on her own.
By herself. There was a bleak thought.
Jet lag was insidious, she decided. Exhaustion was making her depressed, or maybe it was this appalling apartment. Jake had prints on the wall-charcoal sketches of something avant garde. Horrible. In the moonlight she couldn't see detail; she could only see the vague outline of garish figures.
Thinking on, it wasn't even moonlight. It was the glare of a million buildings, lit at night with a million neon signs.
How could she be homesick when she'd been away for less than a week?
No matter; she was. She wanted the dogs. She wanted to hear the birds in the trees outside her window.
She wanted for Jake to be not right through that door and for that door not to be closed.
'Go to sleep,' she told herself firmly, desperately. 'Now.'
Pigs might fly.
Jake had learned from years of being on call to hit the pillow and summon sleep. Self-preservation had taught him the knack. It had never failed him-until now.
He'd never had Tori sleeping right through the wall until now.
He'd never been told he'd be a father until now.
He wanted …
He didn't know what he wanted.
He wanted Tori.
If you made a woman pregnant you married her. It was an old dictum-did it still apply?