Another wave of nausea flowed over her and she realised the whole resisting thing might be easier than she’d thought if that carried on. Those damn prawns. She’d felt fine until a waiter had waved a tray of prawns under her nose. She was never eating seafood again.
‘We need a plan, Zo,’ he said, more softly. ‘We’ve got, what, seven months or so to figure out how we’re going to do this together. So we need to start now, right?’
‘With me moving in?’ Zoey shook her head. ‘I think there have to be a few other steps we can cover first, don’t you?’ Stalling, that was the key. Until she felt less awful and could think rationally about all this.
Because right now the only part of her brain that was working was screaming for her to just let go and let Ash take care of her. And she was very afraid she might start listening to it soon.
‘You’re right,’ Ash said, unexpectedly. But he was already signalling to the cloakroom attendant over her shoulder, asking for their coats. ‘We’ve lots of things to talk about. So let’s head back to my place and talk.’
‘Ash...’
‘There are no prawns, I promise,’ he said, and she looked up at him suddenly. ‘You turned green when the waiter brought those out. I think I started to guess then.’
‘I hate seafood,’ she muttered again.
‘Just...come home with me tonight, Zoey. Please. Come home with me, I’ll make you a peppermint tea to soothe your stomach and we’ll talk as much or as little as you want. Okay?’
And really, how was a girl supposed to turn down an offer like that? The cloakroom girl’s expression made it very clear that if Zoey didn’t want to take him up on it, she would.
She was tired. She felt sick. And she really wanted someone to lean on for a while.
She wanted her best friend.
‘Okay,’ Zoey said, hoping she wouldn’t regret it later.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
ASH HAD SPENT more time in his London flat over the last month than in the whole two years before, since he’d bought it. Still, opening the door and stepping inside now, with Zoey behind him, it was as if he were seeing it for the first time again.
The white, sleek flooring. The modern black kitchen, open-plan to the black-and-white themed lounge and dining area. There was no colour here, he realised suddenly. How had he never noticed that before?
He turned, expecting to see Zoey in her usual bright hues, but found that damn navy dress again, and an uncertain look on her face that made him nervous.
He needed to convince her to stay. And looking at the place he laughingly called his home, even he couldn’t see any reasons why she would.
‘I don’t think I’ve ever actually been here, you know.’ She stepped inside, looking around her curiously.
‘Let’s be honest, I’ve barely ever been here.’ He felt as if he wanted to make excuses for the place. To promise that when the baby came there’d be softer edges and brighter colours.
Although just having Zoey there made everything feel softer and brighter, anyway.
As she settled herself on one of the high kitchen stools—and he resisted the urge to tell her to get down in case she fell and hurt the baby, because he knew it was irrational, but that didn’t stop him thinking about it—he fixed her a peppermint tea and an ordinary cup for himself. Tea was soothing. Tea would help.
‘So.’ Zoey looked him directly in the eye over her mug. ‘How do you want to do this?’
Ash knew exactly how they should do this. But before he got a chance to tell her, Zoey kept on talking.
‘I mean, I assume you want to be involved in the baby’s life, right? Not just one of those dads who sends money but never sees them. Not that I’m after your money or anything, but obviously it would help. But I can do it alone if I have to. And I know you travel a lot for work, so I’m not expecting that you’ll suddenly become a stay-at-home dad or anything. But I would like to keep working, after my maternity leave, so there’s that. And I know I need to move flats, and I guess there are probably a few things to change around here before the baby comes too. But basically, whatever involvement you want, I can work with, I think.’