Page 31 of His Secretary's Nine-Month Notice
Was she, as he had said, being selfish?
She could see all sorts of complications from a relationship that wasn’t grounded in love, but was his black-and-white approach really one she should take? Sometimes a person could become paralysed when they overthought a situation.
Her breathing was shallow as he gently levered her onto the bed. His bed. Giddiness and nausea were not enough to prevent a rush of curiosity.
His room was vast. The bed was the size of a football field. There were no old-fashioned hanging lights, just the twinkle of spotlights on the ceiling. The furniture was grey, built-in, high-gloss. And, as in the sitting room, there were books and papers on surfaces. He was as casual when it came to tidiness here in his house as he was in his office. Clothes had been dumped on a chair by the window and there were two pairs of trainers on the ground, half-submerged beneath a sweatshirt.
His messiness was strangely endearing. It was almost as if he was so intensely clever, his mind so incisive and quick, that the tedious business of tidying up was a hassle he couldn’t bother with. He was just too focused on other things.
She assumed he had a long-suffering housekeeper who came in and cleaned up behind him.
He was punching a number into his mobile phone, talking in a low voice, then listening to whatever was being said to him. After a handful of minutes, he disconnected the call and moved to stand by the side of the bed, arms folded.
‘A few questions,’ he said. ‘And honest answers would be helpful.’ He rattled off a series of questions and then asked finally, ‘Have you eaten anything today?’
About to assure him that of course she had, Violet opened her mouth, frowned and blushed.
‘Not as such...’ When had she last eaten? The long trip over...the prospect of breaking the news about the pregnancy to Matt...thestress...Her appetite had vanished, and now she was having difficulty in remembering just what she had eaten and when.
‘Not as such?What doesnot as suchmean? Have you eaten anything today or not? It’s a straightforward question.’
‘I’ve been busy,’ Violet mumbled.
‘So when was the last time you ate?’
‘Well... I picked at some food on the plane... And of course I’ve been meaning to pop out and do a shop...but I’ve been so stressed out. I think I grabbed some—’
‘Stop right there, Violet. Even from the depths of my ignorance I know that you have to have a proper eating routine when you’re pregnant!’ He shook his head incredulously.
‘That’s not fair—and it’s not just because I may have missed a meal or two. I feel dizzy and nauseous a lot of the time,’ she grudgingly admitted.
‘We’ll talk about what’s fair and what’s not fair once you’ve been fed. I’ll go and...make something.’ He hesitated. ‘I could order something in, but I think you need to eat sooner rather than later.’
He was gone a while, during which time Violet tussled with the idea of getting out of his bed and joining him in the kitchen, but when she tried standing up she felt woozy again and had to lie back down. That being the case, the made herself as comfortable as she could. She kicked off her shoes and unbuttoned the trousers that had been a poor choice, but she had not wanted to advertise her rounded stomach any more than was necessary when it had come to confronting him with news of the pregnancy. She hadn’t wanted to walk into his office and witness the look of dawning horror on his face because he had taken one look at her and guessed. No, she had wanted to build up to it because it gave her time, but she should have just worn something loose, elasticated and comfortable.
He kicked open the bedroom door and entered with a tray in his hand. ‘Juice,’ he said, ‘and cheese on toast.’ There was nothing else he could think of preparing that wouldn’t have taken for ever to do.
The snack consisted of two slabs of bread lathered with butter and drowning under layers of thickly cut cheddar.
Suddenly ravenous, Violet tucked into the toast like a starving person at an all-you-can-eatbuffet. Meanwhile, Matt pulled a chair to the side of the bed and watched her with narrowed eyes as she ate.
‘You were telling me that your nausea wasn’t solely the result of your skipping a meal or two...’
‘No.’
‘Let’s flesh that one-syllable answer out a little, Violet. How long has this been going on?’
‘From the beginning.’ She fidgeted and glanced away from his all-seeing gaze. ‘It’s not a big deal.’
‘It’s a big deal. Seen the doctor about that?’
‘No, of course not!’ Even though she was well aware of all the problems associated with having an unplanned pregnancy—even though she was realistic enough to accept that it had hardly been her dream to have a child without the support of a caring partner by her side—the thought of going to a doctor to be told that something might go wrong filled her with dread. There had never been a moment’s doubt in her mind that she very much wanted this baby.
The silence that greeted this was oppressive and forced her into speech.
‘I should have eaten.’ She plucked at her shirt, mouth downturned. ‘I feel much better now. Lots of women suffer from extreme morning sickness. It’s not a big deal, like I said. Now, I’ll leave you to get on with the day and mull over everything.’
She didn’t feel like leaving. She didn’t fancy being on her own. She wanted to be with him when the next wave of nausea washed over her, making her want to sit down and put her head in her hands. He made her feel so safe. He was a solid brick wall, a rampart against everything that threatened to overwhelm her, and she just wanted to let him handle everything. It was silly and cowardly, but it was also an irresistible force.
