Bedded by a Playboy Page 16

  Jessie had seen him out there too, but had hidden in her room, clinging onto the small scrap of pride she had left. ‘What did he say?’

  Ali looked a little sheepish, then sighed. ‘I couldn’t bring myself to say anything in the end.’

  ‘Why not?’ Jessie was amazed. It was unlike Ali to back down from a confrontation, especially when the happiness of her family was at stake.

  ‘He looks awful, Jess. If it’s any consolation, I think he’s suffering as much as the rest of us.’

  ‘You do?’ Maybe there was some small hope after all.

  ‘I don’t think he’s been sleeping. He looks like he’s lost weight. He was so tense I thought he was going to snap in two.’

  Jessie could feel the rush of sympathy for him. Why was she torturing them both? She sat up, put her bare feet on the tile. ‘Maybe I should go to him.’

  Ali leant across, gripped her forearm. ‘No, you shouldn’t, Jess. He needs to work this out himself. He’s like an angry bear licking his wounds right now. He’s probably blaming you, me, Linc and everyone else for what he’s going through. But once he figures it out, he’ll come to you.’

  ‘But what if he never figures it out, Ali? What if he just leaves?’

  ‘That’s a chance you’ll have to take,’ Ali said firmly. ‘But I wouldn’t give up hope yet.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Well, for starters, while we were talking, his eyes kept straying up to your room.’

  Jessie felt the bubble of hope swell inside her. ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes, really,’ Ali replied, her voice rising with enthusiasm. ‘And when I mentioned that Linc and I and the kids were heading back to London in ten days, he looked really worried. And then, you know what he asked me?’

  Jessie shook her head, not quite as desolate as she had been.

  ‘He asked me if you were going, too.’

  Jessie woke up the next morning and for the first time in seven days didn’t slip out the front door to check if Monroe’s bike was still there. Maybe her dream wasn’t completely dead after all. Maybe all this pain would actually be worth it. Maybe Monroe really did love her and he was going to tell her so soon.

  It wasn’t until after she’d shared breakfast with Linc and Emmy that something about the conversation the day before finally dawned on her.

  The family was heading back to London in less than two weeks. She checked the wall calendar as she stacked the breakfast dishes into the dishwasher. Over the long lazy summer days, she’d completely lost track of the date. It was August twenty-seventh already.

  Jessie finished clearing the kitchen and then rushed up to her bedroom and fished her diary out of the bedside table. She never could remember when her next period was due so she’d got in the habit of writing a small P next to the date each one started.

  Flicking through the pages furiously, she got right back to July tenth before she found the little red P she was searching for. She stared at the date for a long time, then slowly counted the weeks forward. She’d made love to Monroe for the first time four days after that, on the night of Emmy’s birthday party. And it was now the end of August. Jessie took a deep steadying breath, her heart pounding like a timpani drum in her chest. That was over six weeks ago.

  She shook her head, tried to focus. This was ridiculous; she couldn’t possibly be pregnant. They’d only done it that once without contraception. Monroe had been really careful to use a condom every time since; even in the throes of passion, he never forgot.

  ‘Jess, I’m heading into town for some diapers. Is there anything you need?’ Jessie’s head shot up as she heard Linc’s voice coming up the stairs.

  ‘Wait a minute, Linc. I’ll come with you.’ Jessie shoved the diary back into the drawer and dashed to the closet, trying to ignore the flock of birds now swooping around in the pit of her stomach. She slipped on a pair of sandals, tied her hair back and began to plan how she was going to buy a pregnancy test at the chemist without Linc seeing her.

  The stick was pink. A rich, lurid, candyfloss pink.

  Jessie stared at the thin plastic strip in her hand. Dazed, her mind racing in a thousand different directions, she reached up and pulled the instruction leaflet off the top of the vanity. Had she read it wrong?

  But she hadn’t, and there was the proof in black and white—and pink.

  She was pregnant.

  Her fingers began to shake and she dropped the stick on the bathroom floor. It clattered, the noise deafening in the silence.

  She was going to have Monroe’s baby.

  She looked down at her belly. Placing warm palms over it, she began to rock. What had they done? She loved him, desperately, passionately, unconditionally. And she loved this baby, too. The thought was so intense, so shocking, so sudden, that the tears started to flow down her cheeks.

  But how would she tell him? What would he say? He wouldn’t even talk to her about how he felt. He’d never even told her that he loved her. What if he didn’t want children? What if the reason he hadn’t come to see the baby was that he hated babies?

  Jessie shook herself, pulled some tissues out of the dispenser on the vanity and blew her nose, wiped her eyes.

  Don’t be silly. He adored Emmy. He was great with kids. He didn’t hate babies or children. Something else was going on there, she was sure of it. But they’d only known each other for two months, had only been going out for six weeks and for over a week now they’d been avoiding each other. Maybe they had a chance of sorting the whole mess out, but bringing a baby into the equation was bound to make it so much more complicated.

  As she sat on the toilet seat in the brightly lit bathroom, the worries just kept flooding through her mind.

  What were Monroe’s plans? She didn’t have any real clue. What if her worst fears were true and he was planning even now to get on his bike and go? A single comment to Ali about whether Jessie was going to London or not next week hardly constituted a commitment on his part. She hadn’t let herself think about what would happen if he did leave. What she would do. Until now. Now she had to. She hugged her belly again. And murmured a promise to her baby.

  ‘We’ll tell Daddy tomorrow. But whatever he says, whatever he does, Mummy will love you. Mummy wants you.’

  ‘So let me get this straight. You’re pregnant and I’m supposed to be the daddy?’

  Jessie recoiled at the harshness in Monroe’s voice. She had expected the shock she’d seen in his face a moment before. But she hadn’t expected what had followed. He’d said nothing for what seemed like ages. Then his eyes had gone dark and bitter and he’d hurled the accusatory words at her.

  ‘Yes.’ Her voice trembled.

  It had taken her all morning to pluck up the courage to come over to the apartment and talk to him. She’d wanted desperately to tell Ali, to ask her advice, but had decided that Monroe had the right to know first.

  She hadn’t slept all night, the questions hurtling around in her brain like dodgem cars, crashing against each other but never finding anywhere to settle.

  Would he be angry? Would he be happy?

  It scared her to realise she just didn’t know. They’d certainly never talked about family or the future together. But of all the scenarios that had gone through her head while she’d toyed with her breakfast and waited for Linc and Ali and the kids to head off to the beach, nothing had prepared her for the coldness she saw in his eyes now. He looked like a stranger. Not the man she knew, not the man she loved.

  ‘I don’t think so,’ he said.

  ‘What do you mean?’ Jessie felt her stomach pitch and roll. What was he saying?

  ‘You really want me to spell it out?’ The words dripped with contempt.

  ‘Yes, I think I do.’ Her voice broke, her throat began to close, but she kept her back ramrod straight. This had to be some kind of misunderstanding, didn’t it? Where was the warm, caring, vulnerable man who’d held her with such care over the past weeks, had made love to her with such passion? Why was
he looking at her like that?

  ‘I’m not the damn father. I can’t be. If you’re pregnant, it’s someone else’s kid.’

  The words were brutal and ugly, but it was how he felt. Monroe could see the tears starting to leak out of her eyes, the stunned horror in her face, but he didn’t care. Monroe Latimer was too busy chasing his own demons.

  He’d been through hell. He’d tried to leave, a dozen times. Had even got to the stage of packing his duffel bag. But then, he had to unpack it again. Like a damn lovesick fool. And it was all her fault. In his misery, he’d persuaded himself that she’d tricked him into this. He didn’t do commitment and this was why. It caused too much damn pain. When she’d walked through the door, he’d been so overjoyed to see her, it had made him feel pathetic.

  Then she’d made her announcement.

  For a moment there, he’d wanted to believe it was true. It would have been the answer to all his dreams, all the things he’d wanted his whole life and never been able to have. But then the bitter truth had hit him.

  It wasn’t possible. It would have to be some kind of miracle. And Monroe Latimer was a man who didn’t believe in miracles.

  Either she was lying about the baby or she was lying about who the father was.

  A longing, a yearning he’d thought he’d buried years ago had come slamming back to him. He could hate her for that alone.

  The rage Monroe hadn’t known still existed inside him rose up to choke him.

  He wanted her gone now and he’d be as cruel as he had to be to get rid of her. The fact that the water flowing down her cheeks made him want to drag her into his arms only made him more mad. Even when she was conning him, lying to him, he still cared about her, he still wanted her. What kind of a fool did that make him?

  ‘I don’t know what you’re saying, Monroe. But the baby’s yours. I haven’t…’ Jessie could hardly say the words, to defend herself against a charge so cruel, so horrible. ‘I haven’t been with anyone else but you. You’re the first person I’ve slept with in a long time.’

  He laughed; the hollow sound hit her like a blow. ‘You do that wounded look real well. You should be in Hollywood.’

  ‘Please, Monroe.’ She reached out, tried to touch his arm, but he flinched and pulled away. ‘I’m not lying. Why would I lie?’

  ‘You can plead and beg all you want. It won’t change the facts.’

  He didn’t sound angry any more, just indifferent.

  ‘What facts?’ The sob rose in her throat; her voice hitched as she tried to control it. ‘Why won’t you believe me?’

  He dipped his head, shook it slowly, before looking back at her. ‘I can’t have kids. I had to give a sperm sample to the cops when I was sixteen. My sperm count’s so low it’s non-existent.’

  Jessie felt the blood drain out of her face, grasped shaking hands over her mouth. ‘But that’s not possible.’

  ‘It’s possible all right.’ He seemed immune to her distress, his voice calm, his eyes remote. ‘You can see how it gives us a little problem with your announcement.’

  She lowered the hands from her face, but she couldn’t stop the tears, the tremors raking her body.

  He really didn’t believe her.

  It wasn’t a mistake, a misunderstanding. She could tell him now that he was wrong about himself. That somehow they had conceived a child. But even if she begged him to believe her, even if she had paternity tests when the baby was born, the truth would never take away the contempt he felt for her now. He didn’t trust her. He didn’t know she would never lie about something like this. So what exactly would she be begging for? The love of a man who didn’t care about her, didn’t know her or understand her?

  The full horror of the situation finally dawned on Jessie. She wiped the tears from her face with the back of her sleeve. She put a hand on her belly, trying to protect the life growing inside her from the cold contempt of its father.

  ‘I have to go.’ She would have to get away from here, she knew, as far away as she could. ‘I can’t believe I was so wrong about you.’

  ‘I guess I’m not as dumb as I look.’

  It wasn’t what she meant, but she didn’t correct him. She didn’t care what he thought of her any more. She couldn’t let herself care.

  She turned and walked away, her legs shaking, but her shoulders rigid. Once she had closed the apartment door, she ran down the stairs, her heart shattering inside her.

  Monroe grabbed the coffee cup he had been drinking out of when Jessie arrived, and hurled it against the wall. He watched as the dark liquid dripped down the white paint.

  He’d been fooling himself right from the start. He was madly, hopelessly in love with her. If not, why did her betrayal hurt so much now?

  Jessie couldn’t stop shaking as she stuffed clothes into a leather holdall. She had to get away before Ali and Linc got back with the children. She couldn’t stand to see the pity in her sister’s eyes, the fury in Linc’s.

  How could she have been so stupid?

  She’d fallen in love with a man who didn’t care about her at all. She’d foolishly thought that his tenderness, his care with her, the fun and laughter they had shared, the things he had told her about himself and his past had been the sign of deeper emotions.

  It wasn’t just her heart that had been broken, though. There was a life involved here. A new, unprotected life that she would be bringing into the world without a father.

  As she picked up the phone to call a cab to the station Jessie dismissed the excuse that she hadn’t chosen to get pregnant, that she hadn’t planned this baby. She loved the life inside her, and she already felt totally responsible for it.

  How would she explain to her child that its father didn’t want it, didn’t even believe it was his? That was the price her baby would pay for its mother’s stupidity, its mother’s naïve, romantic, ridiculously optimistic belief that she and Monroe had been meant for one another.

  Going to Ali’s bedroom, she located her sister’s address book on the chest of drawers. She would have to talk to Ali soon, but she would not ask her for help with this. It felt as if her sister had spent all her life helping her deal with her mistakes. Well, maybe her affair with Monroe had been a mistake, but this baby wasn’t a mistake and she was going to have to start making her life work for both of them.

  She’d started something this summer at the Cranford Art Gallery. Mrs Bennett had told her only this week that she thought Jessie could have a career in the art world. In the haze of love and romance that she’d indulged in with Monroe she hadn’t planned anything out, but now she would have to. She’d spoken to one of Ali’s friends in New York last week who had mentioned a job in an art gallery in SoHo. Jessie had ignored it at the time, she hadn’t thought she’d ever be moving to New York. Jessie took a deep breath. Her whole life had turned upside down in less than twenty-four hours.

  She sobbed, quietly, unable to hold back the tears any longer as she jotted down Lizzie’s address and telephone number. When she got to New York she’d contact her, see if the job was still available. Tearing off the page, she slipped the information in her bag then scribbled a note for Ali on the pad and left it on the dresser.

  The loud beeping sound from the door buzzer made Jessie jump. Picking up her bag, she left the room and walked downstairs.

  As the cab took off up Oceanside Drive, Jessie forced herself not to turn back and take one last look at the garage apartment. That wasn’t where her future was any more. Despite the heavy weight of despair and humiliation, the sick feeling of fear, of devastation churning in her stomach, Jessie kept her eyes on the road ahead. She had a long way to go but she would get there in the end.

  Monroe had destroyed her dreams, but he would never be able to crush her spirit.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  MONROE slashed the paint onto the canvas—the vivid red reflecting the violence bubbling inside him.

  ‘Monroe, you in here?’

  The shouted enquiry from the
living room had Monroe dumping his brush in the turpentine. No doubt Jessie had gone running to Linc and Ali as soon as she’d left him. They would want him to go now, for sure. The fact that it hurt to know he would have to go only made him angrier. It took a titanic effort to plaster a cocky grin on his face as he walked into the apartment’s living room and closed the bedroom door behind him.

  ‘Yeah, what’s happening?’

  ‘I think you know what’s happening.’

  The sharp words and the heat in Linc’s eyes made it clear he knew about Jessie. This was it, then, Monroe thought. The moment when his brother would cut him loose.

  ‘I guess she went crying to you, then, did she?’

  ‘If you’re talking about Jessie—’ Linc’s voice was tight, brimming with annoyance ‘—no, she didn’t. But she has run off to New York and, since you know why, you’d better tell me—and fast.’

  Monroe shrugged. ‘She says she’s pregnant.’

  Linc’s brows shot up, before he exploded forward and grabbed Monroe’s T-shirt. ‘You got her pregnant? How the hell did that happen?’

  He could see the fury in Linc’s eyes, but it was nothing compared to the raw, bitter anger that was choking Monroe. Damn Jessie for making him have to tell his brother something he’d never wanted to tell anyone.

  ‘Let go of me,’ he snarled. Pushing Linc’s hands away, he struggled back a step, his own breath heaving. ‘It happened in the usual way, I guess.’

  ‘You son of a—’ Linc jumped on him again and would have landed the punch but Monroe blocked the blow. They struggled for a moment, before Monroe managed to grab his brother in a headlock.

  ‘Let me finish,’ he snapped. ‘If she is pregnant, I’m not the one responsible.’

  Wrestling free, Linc turned and fisted his hands in Monroe’s shirt again. ‘How do you figure that?’

  ‘I can’t have kids.’ The words came out on a broken shout as Monroe tried to shove his brother away. ‘When I went to juvie I had to give a sperm sample. The police doctor told me my sperm count is practically zero. I only shoot blanks. Now do you get it?’