The Patterson Girls (32 page)

Nigel gestured to the menu. ‘I've been here before and I know what I want. I recommend the fillet of halibut. Anyway, back in a moment.'

He stood and headed for the restrooms, leaving Abigail to wonder with whom he'd come here before. Was it business or another woman? She didn't like the prick of jealousy that burned her heart at the thought of the latter. But that was ridiculous. It wasn't like she had any claim on him.

Her phone beeped, signalling an incoming email, and she snatched it up, eager for the distraction. She smiled when she saw Lucinda's name in her inbox.

A chill came over Abigail as she read the email. Lucinda rarely swore and although ‘hell' wasn't exactly a curse word, her use of it showed how upset she was. Back home at Christmas she hadn't really understood Lucinda's desire to get pregnant but now she did. Until recently, she'd never failed at anything, but pregnancy wasn't like an exam you could prepare for, and every one of those negative test results had felt like a personal affront.

But she couldn't pick up the phone and tell Lucinda she'd also been trying to get pregnant. Lucinda would want to know why and then she'd have to tell her about the orchestra and that would defeat the whole purpose. The bigger the web of lies she wove, the more alone she felt.

‘You okay?'

Abigail startled at Nigel's question as he sat back down opposite her. ‘I … Uh …' She didn't know what to say.

He gestured to the phone she was holding in a vice-like grip. ‘Bad news?'

Before she could reply, their waiter returned. ‘Excuse me, are you ready to order?'

Nigel looked to her questioningly. She smiled, nodded and rattled off the dish he'd recommended earlier as she didn't want to admit she hadn't even glanced at the menu yet.

‘What's wrong?' Nigel asked, reaching across the table and taking her hand as the waiter retreated.

‘I got an email from my sister,' she confessed. ‘She and her husband have been trying to have a baby for a while and they just had the results of fertility testing. They both got the all-clear.'

He frowned. ‘Isn't that good news?'

She shrugged. ‘Yes, in theory but … Apparently we have a family curse and Lucinda is beginning to think that it's responsible for her infertility.'

‘A curse?'

Although Nigel looked sceptical, Abigail nodded and the whole story fell from her lips. He listened attentively and they barely noticed when their beautifully displayed dishes were placed in front of them.

‘And you believe all that?' he asked, finally picking up his cutlery.

‘I honestly don't know. I kind of wish we'd never found out.' Abigail picked up her fork and poked at her food, but with all the thoughts plaguing her she'd lost her appetite.

Nigel took his first mouthful and she could almost see his brain ticking over as he chewed. When he'd finished, he asked, ‘Do you want kids?'

The direct question shocked her and she took a moment to answer. ‘One day.' She hoped the quiver in her voice didn't give away just how soon she wanted that day to come. ‘What about you?'

He rubbed his jawline slowly as if deep in contemplation and said, ‘Yes. I do. Definitely. One day, when I've made my mark in the advertising world and have something more to offer a family than a workaholic, mostly absent dad.'

Abigail opened her mouth but no words came out. She had no idea what to say. The tiny bit of guilt she'd initially felt about trying to get pregnant without his knowledge or consent was growing each minute she spent in his company. Yet, Lucinda's email only enhanced her desire to have a baby. One of them had to prove this damn curse wrong!

‘Speaking of work,' he said, and she was glad he'd changed the subject, ‘I have a big dinner coming up in a couple of weekends. It's a black tie thing and I get put up in a posh hotel afterwards. Would you like to be my date and help me devour the mini-bar?'

While Nigel's eyes glistened at the prospect of mini-bar mischief, Abigail did a quick calculation in her head. Two weekends from now she would be in the middle of her cycle, making the date perfect timing for conception. And who in their right mind would turn down the offer of a naughty night in a swish hotel with a hot guy?

‘That sounds like fun,' she said, already mentally going through her wardrobe to select an outfit.

‘We'll make sure it is.' Nigel offered her another wink as he reached out to take a drink.

By the time they got back to his apartment, she'd drunk one too many glasses of champagne, which made playing the violin—naked or otherwise—difficult. He shook his head and laughed as she stood at the end of the bed and attempted a concerto. And when she pouted, he rose and went to her, gently taking the violin and placing it back in its case on the floor.

‘I think you need some sleep,' he said, pulling her into his arms and down onto the bed with him. Her body thrummed in anticipation of his touch, but he merely tugged the blankets up over them and snuggled her up against him. Within seconds, she felt her eyes drifting shut.

Warning bells were sounding loud and clear in her head, but she ignored them. It would be the first time she'd stayed the night.

Chapter Twenty-six

Good luck. Thinking of you and fingers crossed that it works. xo

Madeleine pressed a hand against her stomach as she read Celia's text, unsure whether her slight nausea was the result of the weirdness of her situation or anxiety over what was about to occur. She typed back a quick thanks and then left her phone on the kitchen bench as she ran around her apartment, making sure everything was in order. This wasn't necessary—Hugo had seen it in a state of glorious mess on many occasions—but somehow today felt different.

The intercom buzzed and while her body froze at the sound, the butterflies in her belly went crazy. She took a deep breath and rushed over to the wall by the door, pressing the button before she had time to back out. ‘Hello?'

‘Hey, Mads, it's me.'

‘Come on up,' she said, hoping she didn't sound as shaky as she felt. She pressed the button to let him into the lobby below and then swung open her front door, anxiously awaiting his arrival. It seemed to take forever for the elevator on her floor to beep open and for Hugo to emerge, but even with time to prepare, she couldn't help the spark of awareness that flared low in her belly at the sight of him.

‘Hi,' she breathed, inappropriately overcome by how hot he looked in simple blue jeans, a grey light-knit sweater and a black leather jacket over the top. Did he have to be so perfect?

He strode towards her and leant forward, brushing his lips against her cheek before pulling back. He half-smiled. ‘Hello.'

She laughed nervously at the oddness between them and then stood back, gesturing for him to go on ahead of her into the apartment. ‘Can I get you a drink?' she asked as she closed the door behind them.

He glanced around as if he'd never been there before and then shook his head. ‘I'd rather we got this over with.'

He didn't sound like someone overly enthusiastic about what they were going to do and she almost asked him if he'd changed his mind. But the thought of Lucinda's email earlier that week and the desire to have a child, which had grown within her like some kind of out-of-control weed since she'd made her decision, kept Madeleine from saying anything of the sort. This was something she needed to do.

‘Okay then.' She nodded, her heart beating wildly in her chest. ‘Would you prefer to use the bathroom or my bedroom?'

‘The bathroom,' he answered quickly and she cursed herself for offering the latter. It sounded a little too intimate, as if she were inviting him into her boudoir. He shrugged off his jacket and flung it onto the couch.

‘The specimen jars are in there waiting for you,' she added, pointing in the direction of the bathroom.

‘Great.' He smiled warmly at her, which slightly eased her anxiety. ‘Do you want to go and get yourself ready in your bedroom and I'll leave the sample outside your door when I'm finished?'

‘Sure. Good plan.' What exactly did he think
getting ready
entailed? Of course she'd read the research that conception was more likely if she were aroused when the sperm was injected. Was he suggesting she pleasure herself? Her cheeks burned at the thought.

‘I'll knock,' he said, already turning towards the bathroom.

As Hugo closed the door behind him, Madeleine wondered if she should have left some dirty magazines in there for him, like they did in the IVF clinics. Or maybe a picture of herself naked? Her cheeks heated even more at that illicit thought, the warmth spreading to other parts of her body as her mind ran away to a naughty fantasy land. Aroused? She was already more than halfway there.

And then she heard a noise—much like that of a man in the throes of pleasure—that jolted her into action. Although curious about how Hugo would sound during sex, she didn't want him to come out and find her listening like some kind of pervert, so she rushed off to her bedroom, her uterus quivering at the thought of exactly what he was doing on the other side of the wall. She lay down on her bed, closed her eyes and imagined Hugo lying beside her. Before she realised what she was doing, her hand had slid beneath the waistband of her black yoga pants and down between her legs. Her breathing altered as she imagined Hugo's fingers pushing in and out of her, teasing that tender nub until she could bear the pleasure no more.

Her heart raced and she bit her lip to stop from crying out as the first orgasm she'd had in a very long while washed over her. She was lost in her bubble of bliss when a knock sounded at her bedroom door. Yanking her hand out of her pants, she sprang off the bed as if she'd just been caught doing something illegal.

‘Thanks,' she managed to call out—unsure whether she was thanking him for his deposit or for playing an unwitting role in her exquisite release.

‘You're welcome,' came Hugo's reply. ‘See you at work.'

He sounded so very normal, except this situation was anything but. She waited until she heard the apartment door close and then opened her door slowly and peered down at the little jar on the floor. He'd done it.

It looked small and insignificant but that tiny specimen jar could hold her future inside it.

Her hand shaking, she bent down to pick it up, clutching it against her chest as she retreated to her room and put it on the bedside table beside the other paraphernalia she had lined up and ready for the next stage of the plan. Still warm from the aftershocks of her climax, she stared at Hugo's generous donation.

Was she crazy to even consider this?

Chapter Twenty-seven

It felt like Groundhog Day. Another day at school teaching six year olds who seemed to do nothing but whine and dob on each other.
Mrs Manomano
(none of them could pronounce her name)
, Jackson pinched me. Mrs Manoram, Sophie's using the wrong pencil.
Their endless jabs at each other were enough to drive anyone insane and quite frankly, Lucinda wouldn't care what pencils the kids used if they'd just shut up and get on with their work. She hadn't always been so impatient with the littlies and she hated it, but she couldn't seem to snap out of her funk.

And then she'd come home and spent another evening doing the washing and cooking dinner, planning for the next day and half-heartedly watching
Outlander
on the TV while she cut out cardboard clovers for the St Patrick's Day assembly tomorrow. Her friends in the staffroom raved about the show but Lucinda couldn't seem to get excited about anything these days, not even the actor playing hot redhead Jamie Fraser.

After smoothing night cream over her tired skin and brushing her hair, she climbed into bed beside Joe, who'd retreated to their bedroom just after dinner. Although she ruffled the sheets as she slid between them, he was so focused on the iPad screen on the pillow in front of him and whatever was happening in the land of Minecraft that he didn't even stir. She knew if she tapped him on the shoulder and told him it was
that
time of the month, he'd put the game down and give her some attention, but when had sex become such a chore? Something they
needed
, rather than wanted, to do. When had spending the evening with a little screen, doing whatever one did when one played Minecraft, become more appealing than hanging out on the couch with her?

She remembered a time when she would climb into bed wearing a skimpy nightie and find him naked waiting for her. Nowadays Joe's standard night-time attire was faded boxer shorts and an old t-shirt. Once upon a time, he'd have turned to her with lustful eyes and asked her how her day was. They would have talked for hours before slipping into each other's arms and making love. They used to have so much to say to each other, but these days they barely seemed to have anything at all.