‘Change of plan.’
‘Oh, OK,’ she said with a slow sexy smile that only made him more confused. ‘Have a good trip.’
* * *
Right. That was it. Zoe had had enough.
Dan had been back from the States for a week, but he might as well have stayed there because while physically he’d returned he certainly wasn’t here in spirit. Ever since he’d got back he’d been distant and cool, and it was as perplexing as it was frustrating.
Especially when she’d spent that entire week missing him so much. Her period had arrived the day after she’d done the test, as if doing it had given it permission or something, and so not only had she had to deal with missing him, she’d also had to put up with cramps and moodiness. The only thing that had kept her going had been the thought she’d soon be seeing him, and she’d been so looking forward to it.
But although she and Dan had caught up a few times since he’d been back, every single moment she’d spent with him she’d had the feeling that something wasn’t quite right.
From time to time she’d look at him and find him watching her, his eyes dark and inscrutable, his face unreadable. She’d had the disturbing feeling he was assessing her. Evaluating her every move, from what she ate and drank to the way she spoke and behaved. And waiting, although for what she had no idea.
It was weird. It was more than weird, actually, she thought, following him into his house and mentally revisiting the dinner out that they’d just had, which had been a strangely uncomfortable and stressful couple of hours. He’d been so odd and aloof this evening that she knew she’d wildly overcompensated, laughing a little too loudly, smiling a little too brightly and talking a little too fast.
His attitude was horrible, and made her feel on edge and confused. Whatever it was that was bothering him she wanted to know, because frankly she’d had enough of it. So what if it meant conflict? So what if it meant awkwardness? She had to do something.
* * *
Dan wasn’t sure how much more of this awful waiting—and hoping—he could take. Dinner earlier had been hellish. Zoe had been chatting and laughing and talking about God knew what and all he’d been able to think was, should she be drinking that gimlet? Should she be eating those prawns?
He was clinging onto his sanity and his control by his fingertips and it was agony. His perspective was no clearer than it had been the night everything had begun to implode. If anything, it was even more clouded, and now he was struggling to see the wood for the trees.
The last couple of weeks had been tough, and not just because he’d had a hectic week in America and then crippling jet lag. He’d tried to keep reminding himself what he’d told himself in the bathroom: that Zoe wasn’t Natalie and that if there was anything to tell she’d tell him. But it kept being drowned out by the thought, the fear, that history could well be repeating itself, and he didn’t know how to handle any of it.
‘Dan?’ said Zoe, and at the cool firm note in her voice he turned around.
‘What?’
‘We need to talk.’
Thank God. Finally. ‘You’re right,’ he said, as the thought that everything might turn out OK after all entered his head. ‘We do.’
‘I’m glad you think so.’
‘Shall we sit down?’
‘I think we might need to.’
They walked into the kitchen where Dan pulled out a chair for Zoe to sit down and then took the one opposite. For a moment they just stared at each other as if waiting for the other to start, and then he couldn’t stand the tension any longer. ‘Well?’ he said sharply.
Zoe blinked in surprise. ‘Well what?’
‘Are you or aren’t you?’
She looked at him as if she didn’t have a clue what he was talking about. ‘Am I or am I not what?’
‘Pregnant.’
There was a pause, and then an astonished, ‘What?’
‘You heard. Are you pregnant or not? Don’t look so shocked,’ he added coolly. ‘I saw the box.’
‘When?’
‘Two weeks ago. The night before I left for the States.’