Exotic Nights

Owen listened to the flight announcements, took another sip of his coffee, gripped his bag that little bit tighter. He should have checked in by now. If he didn’t check in within the next minute or so he’d miss his flight. He looked into his cup—he still had half of it to go. It would be a shame to throw away good airport coffee.

Bella hadn’t said anything. She’d known he was running away—he could see the reflection of his eyes in hers and knew she saw the truth of it there. But still she was making no demands.

And wasn’t that what he thought he always wanted? No demands? For fear he wouldn’t be able to meet them? Because he wasn’t willing to provide the emotional support someone else needed? Damn it, Bella didn’t seem to want any kind of support. And suddenly it was all he wanted to do. He wanted to know if she was OK, if she was scared or secretly excited or desperately unhappy. He wanted to help her deal with however she was feeling. And he wanted her to help him too.

His heart jerked. Maybe she didn’t demand because she simply didn’t care. He knew that for a lie. He saw it in her eyes. Every time she’d taken him into her she’d been loving him. Just sex? What a joke.

This time, he couldn’t walk away. This time, he didn’t want to.

The taxi seemed to take for ever. Driving alongside the water, the lights reflected on it. The aeroplanes looked as if they were going to end up in the sea if they didn’t slam the brakes on damn fast. Was that him? Headed for a drowning if he didn’t skid to a halt soon?

The apartment was in darkness and for an awful moment he thought she’d gone. Then he saw the large lump on the floor. He flicked on the lights. She was huddled in her beanbag. He took in her pale face, her eyes large and bruised and startled.

‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.’ He put his bag on the table.

She blinked, clearly gathering her wits. ‘What happened?’

‘Last-minute change of plan.’ He paused, inventing a non-excuse. ‘I managed to get out of it.’

‘Oh.’

He could see her biting back other questions and felt bad because of it. He wanted to answer her, wanted to communicate—a little at least.

He stripped off his jacket, wondering why the hell he was so buttoned up in a suit. It had all been for the show of it. He went to the bench in search of wine.

‘I’m not pregnant.’ Her voice was low, matter-of-fact. It took a few moments to register what she’d actually told him.

Not pregnant. No baby.

He was glad he was against the bench because he needed its strength for a second. He’d never expected to feel it as a blow. Never expected to feel disappointment. Only now was he seeing it in his mind, her body rounded with a baby, and then holding a child, his child. The ache that opened up in him was terrifying.

‘When did you find out?’ He managed to sound almost normal as he poured a large glass of red.

‘Just tonight.’

He nodded, took a big sip. ‘You’re feeling OK?’

‘Oh, sure. Fine.’ She mirrored his nod.

He searched her pale features again and knew she was faking it. She looked miserable. He saw the half-eaten cake of chocolate beside her. For a mad moment he wanted to sweep her into his arms and tell her not to be sad, that they’d make babies together any time she wanted to. She just had to say the word.

But he didn’t. He took a breath, another sip of wine and a long minute to regain sanity. He still felt lousy. Why—when this was what he wanted, right? No encumbrances.

‘Want to watch a movie?’ He walked over to her, touched her shoulder gently. Instantly felt a bit better. ‘You can choose.’

‘I already have.’

Then he noticed the blinking of the screen—black and white. Casablanca. Again.

‘Need anything else—ice cream? Wine?’

‘Yes, please.’

What she really wanted was a hug. What she really wanted was to know his reaction. At least he wasn’t doing back-flips and saying, ‘Thank God, what a relief.’ She didn’t know if she could handle that. Because even though she’d been fighting for independence for so long, the thought of a baby had intrigued her—because it would be his. She’d even lain awake and wondered whether their child would have his brilliant blue eyes or her pale ones. But he wasn’t giving anything away.

She decided to find out. She took the wine he offered, and was surprised to see her hand wasn’t shaking. ‘With your attitude to marriage there’s no need to ask. I know you’re relieved.’

‘I …’