But odds were it wouldn’t matter. Given his track record, he’d probably stand her up again. Most likely the complications the baby might pose bothered him, since he wanted her out of his life fast and clean. He would be relieved once he realized that she had no intention of dragging out their marriage due to some false hope.
Sitting in the darkness, she put a hand over her heart, which felt like it was being sledgehammered into pieces.
Chapter Seven
WONG LOTUS WAS only a few blocks from Brooke’s apartment complex. Amandine walked slowly, giving herself some time to think and fortify herself for the battle to come.
Amandine and Brooke had discovered the eatery years ago, but Amandine had never been there with Gavin. Wong Lotus was in a small strip mall with beige walls and an old, tired roof made of dark brown shingles. The owners hadn’t gone for the usual funky Asian font on their sign. Simple red block lettering said “Wong Lotus Authentic Chinese” against a back-lit rectangle of white plastic. It wasn’t the kind of place someone like Gavin would ever think of eating at. If he’d gone from rags to riches she might have taken him, but he had been born into the Lloyds, who were just as blue-blooded as the Fairchilds and quite wealthy to boot.
“Right on time,” came Gavin’s voice.
She started, looking up to find her husband standing in front of the restaurant door. “You’re early.”
“Yes, I’ve been waiting a bit.”
Good. “How’s it feel?”
“Calm.” His gaze swept her from head to toe. She was wearing a sleeveless navy-blue tunic and a pair of matching shorts, both old and frayed around the hems. Her feet were bare inside scuffed brown cogs.
Meanwhile he was in another of his European suits—gray silk and expensive—with wingtips that showed no sign of wear and tear. His burgundy red tie popped, the only slightly flamboyant color on him, but it looked great, drawing her gaze to his solid, muscled chest.
Damn him. Why did he have to look so irresistible?
Gavin opened the glass door to the restaurant, and the aroma of fat, rich sauces and meat hit Amandine hard. She waited for nausea to follow, but it didn’t. Hmm. No morning sickness just yet.
A tall, bony Asian kid about eighteen or so bustled toward them. His black T-shirt said “I Believe in Chinese Food” against a bright orange fireball. Black jeans and beat-up tennis shoes completed his ensemble.
“Hi guys. Table or booth?”
“Booth,” Gavin said, giving the kid a once-over.
The waiter took them to a booth in the back corner. A vinyl sheet covered the table, and they slid onto brown vinyl seats. The waiter set two copies of the laminated menu down. Gavin glanced over his, his face expressionless. Amandine didn’t need to look to know what she wanted. “Egg drop soup with wonton, lobster Cantonese and shrimp, beef and pork fried rice.”
Gavin gave her a veiled look over the menu and said, “I’ll have the same.”
She rarely ordered lobster Cantonese since it was the most expensive item from the restaurant, easily over eighteen bucks a pound, but Gavin was paying, so why not? Her baby would enjoy the crustacean. The booklet from Dr. Silverman’s office said fetuses could taste what their mothers were eating.
The waiter placed a big pot of oolong tea and two small white teacups in the center of the table and disappeared.
“I hope it’s good,” Gavin said, looking around the cheap interior dubiously.
“Just because the waiter isn’t tuxedoed doesn’t mean the food is terrible. We unwashed masses want to splurge and eat out once in a while without going broke.”
His mouth flattened.
She ignored his disapproval and started serving tea. The cup was surprisingly light; then she remembered: the place didn’t have real china. They used melamine, which showe
d years of hard use in the scratches and the original white fading to a gray-tinged beige.
“Okay. Who told you I was pregnant?” she said, pushing a full teacup his way.
“No one. Luna found this in the bedroom.” He waved the envelope with Dr. Silverman’s clinic logo.
Crap. She hadn’t meant to leave that behind. “Give it back.”
“No. I plan to make a scrap-book.”
“You?”