Celia grimaced. ‘How mortifying.’
‘It wasn’t the most pleasant of experiences,’ he said, which had to be the understatement of the century. ‘When she broke in here, arranged herself on the bed and waited for me to get home, I had to take it to the police.’
‘And then what happened?’
‘She was issued with an order to stay away both physically and electronically.’
‘Has she stuck to it?’
‘Thankfully.’
She hmmed. ‘I can see why you’d be wary of getting involved after something like that.’
‘Quite.’
She regarded him thoughtfully for a while and then leaned forwards. ‘So tell me, Marcus, given your abhorrence of commitment, why do you want this baby so much?’
Where that had suddenly sprung from he didn’t know, but the question didn’t come as a huge surprise. ‘It’s hard to explain.’
She winced. ‘I know the feeling.’
‘Not just the ultrasound and those pictures for you, then?’
She shook her head. ‘No. Although that afternoon was the key that unlocked everything, if that makes sense.’
‘More than you probably realise.’
She put down her spoon and fork together on her spotlessly clean plate and bit her lip. ‘For me I think it was a combination of things, really. My friends marrying and starting families. And then that thing my dad said about my age. It got into my head sort of insidiously and then stayed there, niggling away. I mean, I know I still have time, but after we made the decision to go for the abortion, I kept thinking what if this is my only chance? What if I got rid of this baby and I never got pregnant again? Would I regret it? And if I did, would I be able to live with the regret?’ She shrugged and smiled, although there wasn’t any humour in it. ‘Silly, huh?’
‘Not at all.’
‘So what was it for you? Don’t tell me you were envious of your friends settling down and having kids.’
‘No.’
‘And age wouldn’t be an issue, so what was it?’
‘Some stuff going back a while.’
‘What kind of stuff?’
While he’d been absolutely fine with talking about love and marriage, this was veering into territory that would make him sound like a sentimental sap. ‘Just stuff,’ he muttered, hoping she’d leave it but knowing she wouldn’t.
Celia tilted her head and looked at him. ‘Come on, Marcus, I told you my reasons. You can tell me yours. Come to think of it,’ she added contemplatively, ‘you already know a lot more about me than I do about you, and didn’t you once say you were all for equality?’
He had, and, after what she’d just told him, maybe he owed her the truth in return. Besides, if he carried on protesting she’d read more into his reluctance than there was to be read.
‘Fair enough,’ he said, sighing and running a hand along his jaw as he wondered where to start. ‘Becoming a father isn’t something I’d ever have chosen to do,’ he said finally. ‘But presented with the possibility, it opened a box for me too. Mainly to do with my father and our relationship.’
‘Which was good, right?’
‘Very good. I kept thinking about my childhood—which I remember as being improbably idyllic—and was filled with the overwhelming need to recreate it. I guess I’d like to have that father-child bond again, albeit from a different angle.’
‘What if it’s a girl?’
‘Doesn’t matter.’
‘And the sacrifices you’ll have to make?’