* * *
Mari heard voices but didn’t open her eyes. Her head felt as though it were filled with cotton wool.
‘Where am I?’ She lifted a hand to her head and thought, My God, I’m a walking, talking cliché.
Except she wasn’t walking; she was lying in bed. The sudden pain in her hand made her lower it; squinting at the drip brought the memory rushing back.
‘The baby?’
Seb was there; maybe he’d been there all along. He didn’t say anything; he didn’t have to. It was there in his face.
‘I’m so sorry.’
He took her hand, the one that didn’t have the intravenous drip attached, and squeezed gently. She looked fragile enough to shatter, like a piece of semitransparent porcelain. ‘It’ll be fine.’
He clamped his jaw and swallowed the aching occlusion in his throat. It would be; it had to be.
For a time after the nightmare ambulance journey, when they had arrived at the hospital and he had been sidelined as the medical machine had swung into action, he had actually thought he had lost her.
The memory was enough to return the grey tinge to his skin. He braced his hand on the metal bed frame to stop it shaking as he fought his way clear of the expanse of aching empty darkness.
It was a place that he never wanted to visit again.
He never wanted to think of the precious moments they could have had, moments he had wasted because he had refused to accept that there were some things you could not control—like your heart.
* * *
Mari sighed and closed her eyes. When she woke Seb was still there, the shadow on his chin was darker and more pronounced and he was still wearing his dinner jacket.
‘Why haven’t you been home?’ Then she remembered it wasn’t her home and she wanted to cry. Instead she sniffed.
He smiled and looked beautiful and haggard as he caught her small hand between his. ‘I didn’t know what you’d get up to if I wasn’t here.’
She struggled into a sitting position. ‘I’m so sorry, Seb.’
‘You’re sorry?’
‘Ruining your dinner. The baby, my father, everything, and don’t worry, I know what you’re going to say.’
He arched a dark brow and looked at her really strangely, but that might be the drugs they’d given her. She did feel a bit...floaty.
‘You do?’
‘Conman, jailbird father...’ She forced back the rush of emotional tears that welled in her eyes by the sheer force of her will, and delivered in a carefully flat voice, ‘No baby, the eighteen-month rule kicks in...’ Her pale lips ghosted a smile. ‘No-brainer?’
The smile just about broke his heart. With her hair pulled back by a nurse into a ponytail she looked so young, so fragile and so beautiful it hurt...literally hurt, a physical pain. Was this heartache? Before she came into his life he hadn’t even acknowledged he had one; now he could barely think a sentence without referring to that organ!
‘Get Sonia to pack my things. I’ll go straight back to the flat,’ she offered bravely.
‘The hell you will!’
Her eyes widened; he wasn’t being nice to her. ‘I’ll miss this,’ she sighed.
‘What?’
‘You being a total jerk. Could you pass me some water? I can...’ Despite her protests, he held the glass to her lips.
* * *
He sat down beside her, making the mattress give. ‘I think we should talk about it, don’t you?’
She squeezed her eyes closed and shook her head. Talking about it was the last thing she wanted to do. Her baby was gone, and there was just a big black gaping hole.
‘Look, I know you feel obliged not to throw me out because I’ve just come out of hospital, but I will be fine.’
‘You’re not fine.’
His loving tone brought tears to her eyes. ‘And he’ll do it, you know...my father, and it will be much easier for you to distance yourself from the scandal if I’m not here. In fact, if I’m not here there won’t be a story.’
‘I don’t care about a story.’
‘You do. My father is a criminal.’
‘Yes, he is, which makes him very vulnerable to...manipulation.’
‘I don’t know what you mean.’
‘I know, that’s what I love about you, but let’s just say that I have a feeling your father will be making a new life quite soon in Argentina.’
‘He won’t go.’ But, God, she wanted him to. Did that make her a terrible person? Her own father...?
Seb gave a wolfish smile and kissed her. ‘I can be very persuasive.’
‘Well, even if he does go, I’m still his daughter, a bastard.’ She lifted her teary eyes to his. ‘I think our mother... I think she would have kept us if she could have, but he...’