Except she didn’t really know anything about anything that had happened in the past six or so hours. She didn’t know why when Marcus had rung her buzzer she’d wanted him to leave, not because she’d thought she was fine, but because she hadn’t wanted him to see her in such a state. She didn’t know why she’d secretly been so pleased that he’d refused to take her hints and go. Why she was glad he’d insisted on her coming to A and E. Why she was grateful for his support now.
She was a modern, intelligent, self-sufficient woman. She shouldn’t need looking after. She shouldn’t like it. It didn’t make any sense. But then nothing about her behaviour around Marcus made much sense. Her reaction to him after a month of not seeing him certainly didn’t. He ought to have no effect on her at all, because she was so over him and what they’d done, yet he’d mentioned tucking her up in bed—platonically, obviously—and she’d nearly gone up in flames. He’d suggested she rest her head in his lap and she’d practically scooted over to a row of seats on the other side of the waiting room.
Despite the composed front she’d put on she’d been almost unbearably tense. And not just because of the effect Marcus had on her. Deep down the way she’d been feeling for the past couple of weeks had terrified her. Not that what she’d found out once she’d been called to see the doctor had dispelled any of the tension.
She’d gone in there imagining that maybe she’d be told to ease up on work. Perhaps be prescribed the beta blockers that most of her colleagues seemed to be on.
The appointment had started normally enough. The doctor had taken a note of her symptoms. He’d asked her about work and then her menstrual cycle. When she hadn’t been able to tell him the date of her last period he’d asked her whether she’d had sex recently.
And then it turned a bit chilling. The questions began to head in one horrible direction, terminating with her peeing on a white plastic stick and two blue lines appearing.
What had come after that was a bit of a blur. All she’d been able to hear was a sort of rushing in her ears through which the doctor’s warning about the dangers of stress and the instruction to make an appointment with her GP had only very dimly filtered. Then she’d stumbled out on legs that felt weak and wobbly and wholly unfit for purpose, and collapsed into the nearest chair.
‘What the hell happened?’
At the sound of Marcus’ voice, shock and horror evident in every word, Celia snapped to and blinked. ‘Condoms are only ninety-eight per cent safe,’ she said, recalling the statistic she’d read in one of the leaflets she’d flicked through earlier and what the doctor had reiterated. ‘Seems like we’re one of the unlucky two per cent.’
‘How?’
‘I don’t know. Maybe it had expired. Maybe it wasn’t on properly. Maybe it broke. Who knows?’
As they lapsed into silence she could hear the plasticky tick of the clock on the wall, the hum of a busy hospital A and E department and the distant chatter of staff, but the sounds of the cogs and wheels of her brain were fast taking over and her head was beginning to ache more than it had at any point today.
‘So what the hell do we do now?’ he said, still sounding a bit stunned.
‘I have absolutely no idea.’ And now, with all the adrenaline draining away and events catching up with her, she suddenly felt very, very tired. ‘And you know what, Marcus?’ she said, getting to her feet and hauling the strap of her handbag over her shoulder. ‘It’s late, I’m shattered and I don’t think I can deal with this right now.’
He glanced up at her, frowned as he scanned her face, and then stood. ‘I’ll take you home.’
‘I’d appreciate that,’ she said with a weak smile. And then, just in case he got it into his head that he’d be staying and fussing over her when she wanted nothing more than to sleep and then process the news and figure out what she wanted to do about it in her own time, added, ‘But then, if you don’t mind, I’d like to be alone.’
* * *
Marcus did mind. Very much. Still. Even though he’d got home a couple of hours ago and Celia probably hadn’t given him a moment’s thought the second he’d driven away.
He hadn’t wanted to leave her. He’d wanted to stay the night. He’d wanted to put her to bed and then keep an eye on her to make sure she was all right because she’d had quite a shock and in her fragile state he wasn’t sure how she’d cope with it.
But she’d thanked him for dropping her off, told him she’d call when she was ready to talk and said a very firm goodnight. And now he was at home, sitting in his study, staring out into the garden and working his way through the bottle of whisky that had been gathering dust unopened at the back of a cupboard in the kitchen.
Thinking.
Remembering.
Wondering.
And, the more he thought about that afternoon, going into such mental detail that he could recall every move they’d made, finally realising what had probably happened.
Celia had been wrong in only two of her answers to his stunned enquiry into how she’d got pregnant. The condom hadn’t expired. And he had enough experience to be able to put it on properly, however desperate he was.
But he had ripped at the packet with his teeth.
He could see it now. His body shaking. His hands trembling as he fumbled for the condom and he bit at it, his teeth very likely nipping a hole in the latex...
He swore again and shoved his hands through his hair. How the hell had he made such a schoolboy error? He’d never been so heavy-handed. So damn careless. What was it about Celia that had made him lose his mind so completely that for the first time in his life he’d screwed up? And how the hell hadn’t he noticed something was amiss afterwards?
Her pregnancy was his fault, he thought grimly, refilling the glass for perhaps the sixth time although he’d stopped counting at three. Entirely his fault. She’d just had her life turned upside down because of him and his complete and utter loss of control and there was no one to blame but him.
Which meant that what happened next wasn’t up to him. Back in the hospital he’d asked what the hell they did now, but there was no ‘they’ about this. It was up to her. Wholly up to her.