Tess gazed out of the study window, and watched a bird of prey swoop low over the cliffs in search of lunch. It hovered and then dived towards the rolling surf, disappearing behind a barrier of ferns. She imagined it breaking some poor unsuspecting rodent’s neck. She forced her fingers to release on the handset. It probably wasn’t healthy for a woman in her condition to want to do the same thing to her child’s father. ‘Could you tell him the ultrasound is scheduled for tomorrow morning in Dr Hillier’s surgery at ten a.m. He has the address.’
‘Did you say ultrasound?’ the PA replied.
‘Sorry, sonogram,’ Tess corrected herself, using the American term, although she wasn’t sure why she was even bothering. She hadn’t managed to get Nate Graystone alone since he’d dropped her off at Eva and Nick’s house three weeks ago. Right after they’d had that revealing, and she had believed important, conversation in his Jeep. It obviously hadn’t been that important, because he’d been avoiding her ever since.
He hadn’t even turned up when they’d arranged for her to move into the cottage two weekends ago. Which had really riled, because she’d changed her outfit three times—carefully repacking her suitcase each time—because she’d assumed he’d be driving her down to her new home. Only to have a couple of anonymous removal men turn up on Eva and Nick’s doorstep with a truck big enough to relocate the Metropolitan Opera House and a ‘house-warming’ gift from Nate, which she was positive had been purchased by the ubiquitous Jenny. She just couldn’t picture him buying scented candles and a selection of magnolia hand towels.
In the interests of her newfound flexibility, she hadn’t beefed about the expense of hiring a removal company for her two suitcases of clothes and six boxes of personal items, or the fact that he had already taken care of their fee. But what she’d really wanted to beef about was the fact that he hadn’t shown up in person—the note sent with the store-wrapped present involving some lame excuse about work commitments. On a Saturday!
‘I get it,’ Jenny said, sounding relieved to have the mystery of what exactly an ultrasound entailed solved. ‘I’ll let him know as soon as he’s out of his meeting. I’m sure he’ll want to be there,’ she finished with more hope than conviction, before ending the call.
Tess dropped the handset back in its cradle—resisting the urge to hurl it across the room.
Yeah, right.
She took several calming breaths, absorbing the spectacular view of cliffs and ocean from the cottage’s second bedroom—which she’d turned into a study the day after she’d moved in. Why was she getting so worked up about Nate’s disappearing act?
Yes, she’d been moved by the conversation they’d shared in his Jeep after that first visit here. And yes, she’d believed that their relationship had undergone some kind of fundamental sea change as a result of the confidences they’d shared that afternoon. And yes, she’d been stupidly excited about seeing him again when they’d made arrangements for her to move into the estate. Had maybe even harboured some silly schoolgirl fantasy about them getting to know each other properly while she was living under his roof. She’d had visions of him popping in occasionally, had even expressly asked Dr Hillier on her most recent check-up about sex during pregnancy.
Colour hit her cheeks as she recalled the mix of panic and anticipation that had run through her at Hillier’s no-nonsense reply: ‘Honey, the baby will be fine, and you should grab some quality time with the father now, because it will be in short supply once junior arrives.’
Turns out she hadn’t had a thing to panic about, because you could hardly have quality time with a guy who didn’t even show up.
What really galled her, though, was that before she’d realised she’d read far too much into their little heart-to-heart she’d decided to throw caution to the wind and made a conscious decision to take Nate up on his ‘friends with benefits’ offer. It had been humiliating as well as dispiriting to discover that Nate was nowhere near as enthusiastic about it as she was.
After three weeks of waiting for him to call her—and not just email or phone with perfunctory replies to her enquiries—she was beginning to wonder if the man she’d glimpsed in that layby had ever really existed. But what was far worse, his avoidance tactics had made her feel in the last few weeks like some starstruck groupie begging for his attention. And that really rankled.
She remembered the way he’d gone all stiff and formal with her, after she’d thanked him for his kindness and support. What had he thought she was about to do? Declare her undying love?