She wanted to rail against it, pop it with a pin as though it were a balloon she could dispose of. Because she did know him. Somehow, in those few hours, she had felt him move inside of her and she had felt him. The essence of him; all of him. Their connection had imprinted on her forever.
Him, apparently, not so much.
“If you did know me, you would see that I can’t simply step back and let you raise my child.”
It wasn’t what she’d been expecting. At all.
A sound of surprise strangled in her throat as her startled gaze was pulled back to his. “What?”
“I’m not going to be an absent father. And I’m not going to let you go through the pregnancy alone.”
Her eyes were as round as saucers. “I… I’m not alone. I have my parents.”
“That’s fine. Of course I’m not suggesting you cut them out of your life.” His smile was kind, but there was a strength of iron behind it.
“Then what are you suggesting?”
Gianni returned at that moment, with several small plates of savoury food.
“I primi,” he explained unnecessarily as he layered the centre of the table with dish after sumptuous dish. He was oblivious to the swirling tension that had wrapped around them.
“Thank you.” Theo’s response was dismissive but Gianni grinned and strode away, whistling as he went.
“What do you want?” Imogen asked, returning to their conversation.
“I want to provide our baby with the best level of care right from the beginning of his or her life. I mean now. I want your pre-natal care to be exceptional. Do you have a doctor?”
“There’s an obstetrician in town.” She didn’t add that Dr. Mayberry only consulted every second Tuesday; somehow she thought that might fly in the face of his pronouncement, just a little.
“And where do you live?” He pushed.
“I have a flat.”
“A flat.” His lips compressed with something remarkably like disapproval.
“So you earn what? Eight pounds an hour?”
Her temper spiked at the impertinence of his question. “I don’t see that’s even remotely your concern.”
His eyes narrowed as he leaned forward, locking her with his stare. “You’re wrong, Imogen. You have my baby in your belly. Everything about you is now my concern.”
And the fierce possessiveness of that statement made her stomach twist.
It was only with intense strength that she was able to remind herself of the vital truth. He wasn’t speaking possessively about her. It was their baby.
Her, he’d had no trouble walking out on. Forgetting the second his driver had pulled up.
“How do you expect to care for our child on that income?” He returned to the crux of his inquisition easily.
“Because I will,” she responded, her throat thick with emotion. “Because I have to.”
“And how will you work?”
“I’ve already enquired. I can take him with me,” she said hurriedly. “That’s the good thing about working in a daycare, I suppose…”
“Him?” He honed in on the careless use of a pronoun. “It’s a boy?”
“No, no. I just don’t really like calling the baby ‘it’.”