November Harlequin Presents 2(171)

‘You can’t run away. You’ve run away too many times and now you’ve got to stop. I wouldn’t have gone to see him if I thought that you were happy with your decision…’

‘I have been very happy with my decision!’ Francesca said hotly.

Jack’s voice was as calm as hers had been vehement. ‘No, you haven’t. You’ve been miserable and now it’s affecting the pregnancy. You know what the doctor said. Much more stress and you run the risk of miscarrying. Is that what you want?’

No, it wasn’t. She might not have expected or wanted to be pregnant with Angelo’s child but, now that she was, she felt intensely happy about it. It was about the only thing she did feel happy about. It was selfish, but there was a strong sense of wanting this bit of him for ever.

‘Well, thank you very much for introducing yet more stress for me to cope with.’

‘You need to start being honest.’ He stood up and brushed himself down. It had been a late night. When he thought back to Angelo’s reaction to what he had said—the disbelief followed swiftly by cold, angry shut-down—he could understand why she now felt inclined to take off. The man was, frankly, intimidating, but taking off was not the answer and he was convinced that the guilt she blithely dismissed would eat away at her until she ended up in hospital. If she had never intended to fill him in then he might have remained silent but she had meant to and had chickened out at the last moment, and had then wrapped up her cowardice in lots of flowery packaging of being mature and thinking of the impact it would have on his life and wanting to spare him the unfair anguish of having to deal with a mistake she had made, as though she had been solely responsible for the situation.

After he had met Angelo he had headed back to his local pub and drowned any niggling doubts he had had in a few pints of lager. Lord only knew how the pair of them were going to get it together to do justice to the job they had for later that evening. Give it another week and the kids they used would be rising up in arms and staging a mutiny.

‘Where are you going?’ Francesca demanded, standing up and then sitting back down when she was overcome by a wave of nausea and dizziness.

At once Jack was by her side. ‘I’ll stay if you want, Els.’

‘Was he very angry?’ she asked in a small voice and the slight hesitation provided her with an answer. ‘God,’ she moaned, curling into him, forgetting the fact that he had become the bad guy.

‘Talk it over with him. He was pretty angry, yes, but I did tell him that you had wanted to say something. You can sort something out…at least then your conscience will be clear…’ Philosophical pearls of wisdom had never been his forte and he lapsed into silence, stroking her back until he felt she was calm enough for him to pull back.

‘I suppose you thought you were doing the right thing,’ Francesca said grudgingly and Jack breathed a sigh of relief at this little crumb of conciliation. Before she had any opportunity to resume her attack, he decided to take advantage of the temporary laying down of arms.

‘Let me get you something to eat before I go,’ he suggested. ‘I could whip something up. Some good old-fashioned eggy bread, maybe?’

Francesca made a face. ‘I can’t stomach the thought of fried food. I’ll grab myself a few crackers when you’ve gone.’

‘What about this job tonight?’

‘I went shopping yesterday and everything’s in the fridges.’ She looked at him despairingly and he nodded.

‘Okay. But no running away when my back’s turned. Fair enough if he doesn’t get in touch…’

Shying away from the thought of a vengeful Angelo, Francesca clung to this nonsense possibility like a man clinging on to a lifebelt in high seas. The thought that Angelo might decide to walk away from the horrendous situation confronting him was very appealing.

And if he did contact her…

She would deal with it. She could spend the rest of her life running but in the end she wouldn’t be able to hide and, even if she did succeed in disappearing, what good would it do in the long term? Sooner or later the baby would grow into a child and the child would grow into an adult who wanted answers to questions.

It was almost a sense of relief to know that the decision had pretty much been taken out of her hands. All she had to do now was wait.

Not long, if Angelo had his way, but he knew that he had to curb the urge to drive over to her house immediately and lay into her.

His phone rang for the third time that morning, even though it had only just gone nine and, knowing who it was, he snatched it up and said, without bothering with formalities, ‘What do you want?’