She gave him a quick on-off smile. ‘I’m never very good in the morning, you know that.’
He rose from the stool and, cupping her face in his hands, pressed a kiss to her forehead. ‘Look after yourself,’ he said. ‘You only have this week to get through before it will all be over.’
Keira felt her stomach clench in panic. ‘W-what will be over?’ she asked.
He smiled ironically. ‘Have you forgotten about your final exhibition?’
‘Oh…that…’
He tipped up her chin and searched her gaze. ‘What is wrong? For the last few days you have seemed preoccupied. Have I done something to upset you?’
‘No more than usual.’ Actually that was unfair, Keira thought. The last three weeks he had been lovely towards her. She had almost fooled herself that he was falling in love with her again but if he was he hadn’t said so. She had desperately wanted some clue to what he was feeling so she could tell him about her pregnancy but she was reluctant to destroy the fragile truce that had developed between them.
One of his brows slanted upwards. ‘What is that supposed to mean?’ he asked.
She pressed her lips together, frightened she was going to cry. ‘I just want you to love me,’ she said. ‘Is that so much to ask?’
He stepped away from her, his expression closing over. ‘Yes, it is.’
‘Doesn’t anything we’ve shared over the last three weeks mean anything to you?’ she asked in desperation. ‘We’ve been so happy together, you know we have.’
‘Stop it, Keira,’ he said. ‘You know how this is going to work this time around.’
‘But I don’t want a divorce. How can you be so cruel?’ She began to cry. ‘Can’t you see what this is doing to me?’
‘You are emotional and highly stressed because of the exhibition,’ he said. ‘You will get over it.’
‘Damn it! I’m emotional because I’m pregnant.’
Keira hadn’t intended to tell him quite so bluntly. She saw the shock flash like lightning over his face and she bent her head, unable to hold his searing gaze.
‘How many weeks are you?’ he asked.
‘I don’t know for sure, but I haven’t had a proper period for…for at least three months…’
The silence was so thick she could taste it when she ran her tongue across her dry lips.
‘Is it mine?’ The three words were like arrows through her heart.
She swallowed convulsively and dragged her eyes back to his. ‘I’m…I’m not sure…but I think it’s yours…’ Please God, let it be his, she prayed.
She watched as his expression underwent various fleeting changes: disbelief, cynicism and then a flicker of uncertainty, which he immediately masked.
‘Is there any way of finding out for sure?’ he asked.
She compressed her lips, trying to stop the tears that were burning at the back of her throat. ‘Yes…I read up about it. An amniocentesis test is where they take a sample of amniotic fluid to establish paternity; it’s also used to screen for problems with the baby, but there’s a slight risk of miscarriage.’
He shoved a hand through his hair as he paced the room agitatedly. ‘I will not have that on my head,’ he bit out. ‘If you had a miscarriage as a result of me insisting we find out who the father is, I will never forgive myself.’
He stopped pacing and swung back to look at her. ‘What are you going to do?’
She looked at him worriedly. ‘What do you mean, what am I going to do?’
‘Are you going to have it or get rid of it?’ he asked.
She swallowed deeply. ‘You’re…you’re not suggesting I…I…terminate?’
‘That is u