This Man Confessed (38 page)

“Yes, what are you doing?” Coral hisses.

I point at the picture. “I’m just trying to figure out whether you’re four or five weeks pregnant,” I muse, keeping my eyes on the picture. “I’m guessing just four.”

“I’m four
months
. Not weeks.”

“No, you’re not.” I look up at Jesse. He’s holding his breath. “When was the last time you slept with her?”

“Four, five months.” He shakes his head, his frown line doing a worried dance across his forehead. “Ava, I can’t think that far back. I didn’t exist before you.” His hands rest on the tops of my thighs and squeeze. “I always used a condom; you know that.”

“I know,” I agree, but there is one other possibility and it kills me to ask, especially in front of this interloper. I clench my eyes shut. “Was she one of the…” I swallow around my words. “Did you…”

He stops me from my struggling. “No.” He says the word softly and secures the nape of my neck in his palm. “Look at me,” he demands, just as softly, and I do. I lock eyes with him and he shakes his head, only very faintly. “No,” he repeats.

I nod on a quiet exhale and offer a small smile of trust. There is no need for a confession because he has nothing to confess. Our quiet exchange of understanding almost makes me forget that Coral is standing nearby.

“You’re going to stay with him when he’s having a baby with another woman?” she asks on a laugh. “Where’s your self-respect?”

“I’m going to trample now,” I tell him quietly, looking for his permission this time.

He smiles and drops an accepting kiss on my cheek. “Knock yourself out, baby. But please, let’s just make this one a verbal trample.” He nods at my tummy, and then stands and turns a contemptuous look onto the brazen slut, but he doesn’t say anything. He’s leaving this one to me.

“What are you two talking about?” Her smugness is disintegrating by the second. She has no idea what to make of this.

I join Jesse in his standing position and look up to him. “Get me your picture.”

My question pulls his condemning eyes from Coral down to me. He looks at me all gone out. “What picture?”

I roll my eyes. “The one that you carry everywhere. I’m not stupid. Where is it?”

“In my suit jacket,” he admits sheepishly.

“Go and get it.”

“No. I’m not leaving you with her.” He doesn’t even grace
her
with a look this time.

“‘Her’?” Coral blurts incredulously. “Is that the way you’re going to speak to the mother of your child?”

He swings around violently. “You are not the fucking mother of my child, you deluded freak!” His anger is building again. I need to remedy this once and for all.

I leave them and head straight to Jesse’s office, finding his suit jacket where he discarded it last night, and rummage quickly through his pockets, finding a neatly folded wedge of notes and his phone before locating the picture from his inside pocket. It’s a little worn, no doubt from being transferred from pocket to pocket. I exit hastily armed with exhibit B and find the distance between Jesse and Coral has closed. Jesse is still in the same location, but Coral is moving forward.

“We had something special, Jesse.” She goes to touch him, but he yanks his arm away.

“Special?” He laughs. “I screwed you for a while. I fucked you and then kicked you out. How the fuck is that special?”

“You came back for more. That has to mean something.” Her tone is hopeful. She really is deluded. “You made me need you.”

Those words prickle at my skin. I want to interrupt, but I want to hear how he responds to that.

“No, you made yourself need me. I barely even spoke to you when I was screwing you. You were a piece of meat that was handy to have on call.” He moves in and leans down, making her pull back slightly. Jesse’s tone is full of venom, and intended to be. He’s doing a damn good job at trampling all over her himself. “You’re just like the rest of them, but even more desperate. Get a good seeing to and you think your life depends on it.”

I almost laugh. My life really does depend on it, even more now that I’m a raging bag of pregnant hormones.

Jesse looks her up and down, and I get the glimpse of the conceited man who treated women like objects for so long—the man who drank, fucked, and threw them out.

“What the hell makes you think that I’d leave my wife for you?”

“Because I’m having your baby.” The smugness has fallen away completely now. She knows she’s losing the battle.

“You’re lying,” he retorts, but there is definitely an element of uncertainty in his tone.

“She
is
lying,” I interject, uncomfortable with seeing Jesse so close to her, even if he is snarling in her face.

“I’m not. You have the proof there.” She points at the picture in my hand.

“Yes, I do.” I turn it around and push it in her face. “This is a six-week scan picture.”

She frowns “No, it’s a four-
month
scan picture.”

“This isn’t your baby, Coral.”

“Whose is it then?” she asks slowly. She’s beginning to catch my drift.

“This is my baby.” I look at the tatty piece of paper fondly. “And Jesse’s.”

“What?”

“Well, I say baby. What I actually meant was
babies
. You see, we’re having twins, and I know you’re trying to pull a fast one because this really is a six-week scan picture. And there are two peanuts here, smaller than your one blob, I know, but I can get a feel for it. I don’t know. Maybe it’s motherly instinct.” I shrug. “Is that all?”

Her mouth is slightly agape and while I’m still reeling on the inside, I’m beyond proud of myself for maintaining my composure. Jesse is right. I can’t go rolling around on the floor, as much as I’d love to rip her hair out.

“Unless you can miraculously produce this missing strip that’ll confirm your dates, I think we’re done?” I give her an expectant look, but she’s saying nothing. I throw her picture into the space between us. “Now fuck off and go find the real father of your spawn.” I don’t remove my eyes from her and I won’t until that door is shut and she’s firmly behind it. “Are you leaving, or do I have to drag you out?” I ask, stepping forward.

She bends and picks her picture up before backing out the door, her eyes flicking nervously from Jesse to his deranged, pregnant wife, and as soon as her body is over the threshold of the penthouse door, I slam it in her face, then turn to look at my ex-whore of a husband. He’s chomping nervously on that bottom lip and maybe I shouldn’t be, but I’m mad with him, too. I steam past him and up the stairs, finding the shower still flowing when I arrive back in the en-suite. Stripping down, I scrub my teeth, then step in and make no rush to get done quickly. I’ve been up for less than half an hour and I already feel like it should be the end of my day.

My eyes are closed as I rinse my hair, but I can feel him behind me. He’s not touching me, but I know he’s there. And he’s all worried. I can sense the anxious vibes shooting into my wet back. The evidence of his uncertainty at Coral’s claim just reinforces my concern. Have I now got to add
potential baby mommas
to my list of things that could cause us issues? We’ve been back from Paradise for just two days, and I’m mentally exhausted already. A life of peace and comfort, that’s what I want and need, and every time I think we’re close to exactly that, something jumps up and obliterates it.

The familiar feel of the natural sponge connects with my back, as does his palm with my tummy. He’s cautious, and he should be. “Jesse, I’m not in the mood.” I step away from him and finish rinsing my hair. He doesn’t know what to do, so as usual when he finds himself in this situation, he tries to win me back over with his touch. I expect to hear a snort of disbelief or even a scorn for denying him, but I don’t. I do, however, feel his hand slide back around my stomach. “I said I’m not in the mood,” I snap harshly, shrugging him off and grabbing a towel to dry myself.

“You promised you’d never say that,” he murmurs sullenly.

Securing myself in the towel, I glance up and see him standing under the pounding water with his hands hanging limply by his sides. “I’m late.” I leave him, with trepidation written all over his face, to get myself ready for work.

For the whole twenty minutes it takes me to get ready, Jesse sits on the bed, cautiously watching me, cogs spinning, teeth nibbling. I’m just about to exit the bedroom when he blocks the door, all dopey eyed and sad. “Baby, my heart’s splitting. I hate fighting with you.” He makes no attempt to close the distance between us.

“We’re not fighting.” I brush off his solemnity. “You need to get the code on the elevator changed. And find out how she got up here, too.” I walk out, but barely make it to the top of the stairs before the warmth of his palm is around my wrist, stopping me from going anywhere.

“I will, but we need to make friends.”

“I’m dressed. We are not making friends now.”

“Not properly, no. But don’t make me spend all day knowing that you’re not talking to me.” He drops to his knees in front of me and looks up. “The days are long enough already.”

“I’m talking to you,” I mutter.

“Then why are you sulking?”

I sigh. “Because a woman has just invaded our home and tried to stake a claim on you, Jesse. That is why I’m sulking.”

“Come here.” He pulls me down and wraps me in his arms. “I love it when you trample.”

“It’s tiring,” I mumble into his chest. “I really need to go.”

“Okay.” He kisses my hair and pulls back, securing my cheeks in his hold. “Tell me we’re friends.”

“We’re friends.”

He blasts my moodiness with his smile—my smile. “Good girl. We’ll make friends properly later. Go get your breakfast. I’ll be two minutes.”

“I need to go,” I remind him, glancing down at my Rolex. “It’s eight thirty already.”

“Two minutes,” he repeats, returning me to standing. “You’ll wait for me.”

“Hurry up then!” I push him away and go to find Cathy in the kitchen. She’s wrapping a bagel and still muttering under her breath. She soon stops when my presence is noted.

“Ava.” She scurries over, wiping her hands down her apron. “I tried to stop the vindictive little minx!”

Something tells me Cathy has had an encounter with Coral before. “Don’t worry, Cathy.” I smile and give her a rub of her arm. “You know her, then?” I press lightly.

“Oh, I know her, and I don’t like her.” She starts muttering again as she returns to the island to finish wrapping my breakfast. “She’s been turning up for months, pestering my boy and claiming poverty. I told her! I said, look here, you conniving little tramp! Leave my boy alone and try fixing your marriage.” I smile as I watch her aggressive hand movements, virtually bashing away at my bagel. “I don’t know how many times my boy has sent her packing. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.” She looks up at me. “Have you taken your folic acid?”

“No.” I walk to the fridge and collect a bottle of water before taking the pills that Cathy hands me, followed by a ginger biscuit. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, dear.” Her wrinkled face grins. “You certainly put her in her place.” She laughs and retrieves my bagel, and then stuffs it in my bag. “You eat that, I mean it.”

“You sound like Jesse.” I down my pills.

“He cares, Ava. Don’t condemn him for that,” she scolds me lightly, looking over my shoulder. “Here he is, and he’s dressed!”

“I’m dressed,” He laughs, straightening his tie. “As is my beautiful wife.”

I roll my eyes, but I don’t feel embarrassed at all. She’s seen it all before, and Coral’s visit has taken the edge off any mortification. “Can I go to work now?”

He pulls his collar down and rubs his three days’ worth of stubble. Two minutes didn’t give him time to shave. “Have you taken your folic acid?”

“Yes.”

“Have you had your breakfast?”

I tap the side of my bag.

“You better eat that,” he warns, taking my hand. “Say good-bye to Cathy.”

“Bye, Cathy!”

“Bye, dear. Bye, my boy!”

I’m a little wary when we leave the penthouse, and even more wary when we step out of the elevator into the foyer of Lusso, but she’s nowhere to be seen. Clive is, though, and I wince as we pass, knowing he’s about to cop it in a big way.

“Morning, Ava. Mr. Ward.” The old boy’s cheerfulness is going to be short-lived once Jesse lets loose.

“Clive,” Jesse begins, “how the hell did a woman make it past you and up to the penthouse?”

The confusion on Clive’s face is clear. “Mr. Ward, I’ve just come on shift.”

“Just?”

“Yes, I relieved the new boy…” He glances down at his watch. “Only ten minutes ago.”

I cringe further. It’s Casey who’ll be copping it. Chancing a peek at my man, I note a look of pure irritation. Casey might do well never to return. “When’s he back on shift?” Jesse asks shortly.

“I finish at four,” Clive confirms. “Did he do something wrong, Mr. Ward? I have advised him of protocol.”

I’m pulled toward the sunlight outside. “For what fucking use it’s done,” Jesse mutters. “John’s taking you to work,” he tells me as we emerge.

“When do I get my Mini back?” I ask, spotting the big guy across the car park, leaning up against the driver’s door.

“You’re not. It’s a write-off.”

“Oh,” I say quietly. I love my Mini. “Well, when do I get to drive myself to work, then?”

Jesse opens the passenger door of John’s Range Rover and lifts me in. “When I find out who stole my car.”

“Why aren’t
you
taking me to work?”

He pulls my seatbelt across and secures me before dropping a kiss on my forehead. “I have a few meetings at The Manor.”

“Then why did you make me wait for you?” I ask on a scowl.

“So I could put you in John’s car and remind you to speak with Patrick.”

I know I audibly groan. “You’re impossible.”

“You’re beautiful. Have a good day.” He kisses me once more and shuts me in, giving John a brief nod before making his way to the DBS. I’m suspicious of that nod and when John climbs in next to me, I make sure I direct my suspiciousness at him.

“What’s up, girl?”

“Him.”

“Nothing’s changed, then.” He laughs that deep, rumbling laugh.