“You sure?” Gianni scowled. “It’s so bright. Not, eh, romantic…”
“That’s fine,” Theo insisted with almost offensive clarity, shaking out of his coat and hooking it near the door. “Ready?”
The restaurant was brighter than the bar had been and he studied her properly as she eyed their surrounds. More memories surfaced to the top of his mind. When she laughed, it was like bells being released on the breeze. Musical and lilting, he’d loved the sound of it.
She wasn’t laughing now, though. Her expression was grim, her eyes loaded with emotions he couldn’t fully comprehend.
“Is there anything you’re allergic to?” He waited for her to slide into the green leather banquette and then took the seat beside her. She pushed right back, as far against the wall as she could go, and he didn’t crowd her. But he stayed close enough to ensure their conversation wouldn’t easily be overheard.
“Well,” she tapped a finger against the table. “Let’s see. Soft cheese. Rare meat. Ham. Prosciutto…”
“That’s a lot of allergies,” he said with obvious surprise.
“Not allergies,” she rolled her eyes. “I’m pregnant. I have to avoid all that.”
Inwardly he cursed his complete lack of knowledge. When he and Marie had been trying to conceive, he’d looked into everything he could about cycles, fertility, the best diets to guarantee conception, all so that he could support her. But he hadn’t thought about the next step – what happened when a woman actually was pregnant.
“Right. Here.” He thrust a menu towards her, his smile something between dismissive and totally-completely-out of his depth.
And that had red flags flashing in her mind.
Out of his depth was sexy. Sweet. Adorable.
And she didn’t want to feel any of those things about him.
He was a bastard. A bastard who’d had a one-night stand, probably after drinking more than she realized (though heaven knew it hadn’t affected his performance in the slightest) and then run out in the middle of the night. Where had he gone? Had he driven under the influence?
Was the father of her baby just that irresponsible?
“So?” She asked, still tapping her finger against the table top. “What do you want to talk about?”
His eyes flashed with something like annoyance. “Everything. We’ve already established that I’m … scant on the details of our … night together.”
“Not a night,” she corrected softly. “A few hours, I think.” She pushed open the menu, her eyes skimming it without seeing. “You were gone when I woke up, and I always wake at dawn. You must have crept out in the middle of the night.”
He nodded, more memories bubbling through him. “My driver arrived,” he said, pleased with the detail that had emerged at just the right time. And from that thread, came others. His phone had rung, waking him up. He’d answered quickly, not wanting to disturb the woman in his bed.
Not his bed – it had been a hotel. A pub?
He’d arranged to meet Elliot and then he’d looked at her, one last time. He hadn’t wanted to go, he remembered now. She’d been a fantastic lover – unexpectedly so. But he’d had a lot of great sex, and getting back to London had been his priority. Before the scum paparazzi worked out where the hell he was, and why.
The irony of that sat like a noose around his neck now.
“I see.” She swallowed, a gesture he was quickly realizing spoke of disapproval.
“I don’t remember much about you.”
“And I don’t remember you having such a penchant for Captain Obvious statements.” The interruption was accompanied by a flick of her eyes heavenward.
“Tell me,” he drawled. “Did I find your sarcasm cute at one time?”
Colour flashed in her cheeks and he had a brief moment of satisfaction at realizing his quip had hit its mark. It was rapidly followed by regret. Embarrassing her was both futile and stupid.
This woman was going to be the mother of his child.
That was what he had to keep his mind on.
“Look, I guess there’s no roadmap for us to follow here.” He kicked his legs out beneath the table, crossing them at the ankles. “Let’s agree to keep the jibes to a minimum.”