I nod. “Thank you. I’m fine.” Still dazed, I walk out of the room and blink at the bright light of the waiting area. I place the photos in my bag while I go to the loo and tears of joy fall down my face.
The baby is healthy. It’s all any mother wishes for, but knowing it’s Cal’s and I have a piece of him inside me floods me with warmth.
Is it selfish of me to want a piece of him? Even if he doesn’t want me anymore and is working things out with Priya. I will have a piece of him forever that will never stop loving me.
A knock at the door snaps me from my thoughts. “Hey lady, can you hurry please, pregnant lady here, needing to pee.”
I pull a wad of tissue from the roll and pat my cheeks.
I unlock the door to a heavily pregnant woman, tapping her foot. “Sorry.”
She darts past me into the cubicle, and I wash my hands, glancing in the mirror to check my eye makeup, which is intact thanks to the waterproof mascara I invested in.
At least now Justin will let me go. He definitely won’t want to make things work, knowing I’m carrying another man’s child. I sigh, thinking of Justin. I still have to tell him I’m pregnant. This is the push we both need. I’m going to take the rest of the day off to sort things out.
It’s lunchtime when I pull up at the building site; a new development on the edge of town. Hopefully, I’ll be able to catch Justin on a break. I park in front of the sales office and wave at Linda through the large glass window as I walk around the side to the construction container that Justin uses as an on-site office.
I open the door and step inside the container. His head snaps to the side, and he whips his hand from underneath Maxine’s skirt. Her little bottom perches on the edge of his desk with her legs open, resting on either side of his waist. “Steph,” he says before clearing his throat and sliding his chair back slightly so Maxine can close her legs.
My mouth gapes, and my bag falls from my shoulder, landing on the floor with a thud.
Maxine jumps off his desk, adjusting her skirt. “We were just having lunch.”
“Clearly,” I say, staring at Justin. My body tenses. My heart pounds against my ribs, and I ball my fists. Although I’m only mad because this whole time I could have been with the man I love and now it’s too late. “How long has this been going on?”
“Steph. It’s not what you think. We were just getting some lunch.”
“What were you eating? Because this whole container reeks of deceit…and tuna.”
Maxine smoothes a hand over curly red hair and collects her cardigan and bag from the floor. I step aside to let her scurry away with her head down, hiding her freckled face in shame.
“Don’t lie to me, Justin. I think there’s been too much lying on both our parts. Don’t you?”
“What about you? How long were you shagging what’s-his-name?”
“Is this what this is? Are you trying to get me back? Or do you actually like her?” I sit in the chair on the opposite side of his desk.
Justin sits down. “It just happened. After I found out about you and that bloke from work.”
“Since Christmas? This whole time, you’ve been manipulating me and trying to salvage our relationship while screwing your little whore on the side.”
“If she’s a whore what does that make you? You started this. If you’d been faithful, I’d never have gone elsewhere.” He leans over the desk. His icy blue eyes send a chill through me. “And don’t say you were, because I know you weren’t. I went through the damn washing Steph. I saw your stockings and new underwear, and you certainly weren’t wearing them for me.”
“Is that where you went when you disappeared? You were with her?”
“I needed someone to talk to. Maxine actually listens to me. She actually wants to know about my day and doesn’t glaze over when I talk.”
I rub my temples and breathe in and out, trying to keep calm. He’s right, I do glaze over, though not on purpose. I’ve just had a lot on my mind. “I want a divorce.”
“Not this again. Is that so you can go back to your fuck boy?”
“He’s in Australia. I’ll probably never see him again. He’s nothing to do with this. I want a divorce. I’m moving out or you can move out. Whatever, but you’re going to help me financially.”
He laughs. “Like hell I will. We’re not getting divorced. We can sort this out. If I can forgive you, I’m sure you can forgive me.”
“I forgive you. I don’t even care. What does that tell you?”
“You can’t even cook, Steph. Our kids will starve.”