Page 120 of Mistaken Impression

“Oh.”

“Yeah. I left a message, but she hasn’t called me back… and it’s been two weeks now, so…” I leave my sentence hanging and he nods his head.

“I realise I’m just a crusty old bachelor, but can I say… I’m confused.”

“Why?”

“Because after what she did, I assumed you’d be glad to see the back of her.”

“No, not at all. I’m still in love with her, Henry. I didn’t want her to leave. In fact, I begged her to stay… not that she paid a blind bit of attention.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t understand. Is that why you called her? To work things out?”

“I called because I wanted her to know I’m still here for her… even if I’m three thousand miles away.”

His brow furrows. “What does that mean?”

“It means there was an outside chance she could have been pregnant.”

“Oh…” he says, pushing his glasses up onto the bridge of his nose. “Oh, I see. Can I take it she isn’t?”

“I’m making that assumption, yes. She’d have told me, if she was… and she’d know by now.”

He frowns. “Excuse me for asking this, but did you know when you left Boston that she might be pregnant?”

“Yes, I did.”

“And yet you left, anyway?”

I shake my head, staring at my fingers, twisting them in my lap. “I know it doesn’t sound great, but she broke my heart, Henry.”

I hear him take a breath. “How do you feel now?”

I look up. His face has softened, and he’s studying me with nothing but concern on his face. “What about?” I ask.

“About not hearing from her.”

“Desolate.” That doesn’t even begin to cover it.

“And how do you feel about her not being pregnant?”

There’s no point in trying to hide it. “Devastated.”

“Because you saw it as a way to get her back?”

I think for a moment. “It would be easy to say ‘yes’ to that, but that’s not how it is. I wanted Ella to be pregnant because I love her.”

“And you want her back for the same reason?”

“Yes. That’s why I didn’t mention the pregnancy in my message. I just said I’m here if she needs me… because I—I thought she might have been as distressed as I was to find out she wasn’t pregnant. I thought she might need someone to talk to, and that maybe I’d be the right man.” Except it seems I’m not… not anymore.

“I’m sorry.” Henry’s voice cuts through me, and I turn away, unable to face him. I stare at the fireplace, which remains unlitfor now. Its emptiness seems appropriate, and I struggle against the stinging behind my eyes and the lump in my throat. “How’s the writing going?” he says at last, changing the subject… thank God.

“It’s okay.” I turn again, although I look over at my laptop, rather than at Henry. “I’m planning out the second book, and doing my research for it, and I’ve already come up with outlines for a couple more.”

“That sounds promising. We’ll make an author of you yet. Have you heard anything back from your agent at all?”

“No, but I probably won’t… not until after the New Year.”