This Man Confessed(68)

She melts. “That’s so sweet.”

“No, actually, it wasn’t, but I added a few myself.” I walk past a puzzled Sal, back to my desk. I’m digging through my bag when I hear my phone shout the arrival of a text.

Are you eating your breakfast?



I take another swig of my coffee and text back:

Yummy.



I don’t get a chance to put my phone down before it chimes again.

I’m so glad our marriage is based on honesty.



My eyes instinctively lift and there he is, holding a bunch of calla lilies and with an annoyed glare drilling into me. I can’t prevent the long, drawn out exhale of air that rushes from my mouth as I lower myself to my chair. He strides over, giving Tom and Victoria a nod in greeting, before sinking his tall leanness into a chair on the other side of my desk, placing the flowers in front of me. “Eat,” he orders flatly, nodding at the paper bag that’s been shoved to the side.

“I’m not hungry, Jesse.”

He leans forward, looking worried, his eyes evaluating my face. “Baby, you look pale.”

“I feel like rubbish,” I admit. Finally morning sickness at the correct time of day. There is no point in feigning fine because I absolutely don’t feel it and I clearly don’t look it.

He rises and comes to stand behind my chair, leaning down and placing his palm across my brow and his lips to my ear. “You’re hot.”

“I know.” I sigh, pushing my cheek to his mouth, my eyes closing with no instruction from my brain. “I hope you feel guilty,” I say quietly. I’m feeling sorry for myself.

I’m released and he swivels my chair around to face him. He crouches in front of me and takes my hands. “Let me take you home.”

“It’ll pass.”

“You’re impossible sometimes.” He reaches up to cup my cheek. “Pregnancy is making you moody and even more defiant.”

I force a small smile. “I like keeping you on your toes.”

“You mean you like keeping me crazy.”

“That, too.”

Sighing, he leans in and kisses me sweetly. “Please eat.” He’s begging, not demanding. “It might make you feel better.”

“Okay,” I agree. I’m willing to try because even though the thought of swallowing food makes me want to gag, I couldn’t possibly feel any worse than I already do.

He looks a little surprised at my lack of disobedience. “Good girl.”

I’m turned back toward my desk and presented with the paper bag. As I open it, the waft of bacon hits my nose and I do actually gag. “I don’t think I can.” I snap the bag shut again, but it’s soon whipped from my hand, the bagel unpacked and placed on a napkin in front of me. As I gingerly pick at a corner and bring it to my lips, I’m fighting the overwhelming desire to run to the toilets and shove my fingers down my throat. I chew slowly for an age, under the watchful eye of my worried husband, then swallow. I don’t retch.

He smiles. “Do you see how happy you make me when you do what you’re told?”

I ignore him and pop the bread in my mouth, each chew becoming easier, each swallow instigating less stomach turning. He just stands and watches me until I’ve worked my way through most of my breakfast. “Happy?” I ask. I know I am. I feel better already.

“Your color’s back. Yes, I’m happy.” He scoops up the remains and throws it in the bin, and then bends down, getting nose to nose with me. “My work here is done.” He pushes his lips to mine. “Now I’ll leave my wife to work in peace.”

I scoff. “No, you won’t.”

Pulling back, he hits me with a cheeky grin. “I might check in once or twice.”

I scoff again. “No, you won’t!”

“I won’t make a promise I can’t keep. Is Patrick here?” His question reminds me that I still haven’t spoken to my boss about Mikael.

“No. He’s in meetings all day.”

He straightens, flicking his eyes to my hair, clearly looking for signs of my fiddling fingers. “You’ve made me late,” he says, looking down at his Rolex.

“You make yourself late.” I shoo him away and pick up my flowers to put them in water. “Go.”

He holds his hands up and starts backing away from me. “Feeling better?”

“I do. Thank you.”

Blessing me with his smile, reserved only for me, he winks, blows a kiss, and walks out, leaving me with a little grin on my nonpale face. Victoria and Sal are smiling fondly and Tom’s swooning at my Lord’s back.

They’re all still so affected.





I make it to the end of the day with my breakfast still in my stomach. I feel so much better. Jesse has texted me five times, each time asking how I feel. My answer is the same for every reply. Better.