Page 28 of The Baby Behind Their Marriage Merger

Some things didn’t need discussion, and knowing that he didn’t need explanations made her feel warm, a little gooey and, scarily, hopeful.

Be careful, Addison.

Addi took a long sip of lime and soda and looked out onto the bright-blue and green ocean. They would be leaving tomorrow, heading for Tanzania and another Thorpe hotel, but she didn’t want to leave this spot and had no interest in returning to work. She wanted to stay here, in Jude’s bed and arms, enjoying the trifecta of sun, sea and sex.

For the rest of her life, these few days would be the measure she judged her other holidays by. She’d also measure any other relationship she had in the future with the way Jude, her temporary fling, made her feel—wanted, sexy and seen.

The waiter deposited a plate of fried fish and salad in front of her, and a lobster roll in front of Jude, and she snagged a perfectly fried chip off his plate. She bit down and sighed. ‘Those are absolutely divine.’

‘Order yourself a plate,’ Jude suggested.

She would have but she didn’t want to turn into a blimp. Joelle had remained reed-thin during her pregnancy with Storm—Addi’s only memories of Joelle being pregnant—but that didn’t mean she would too.

‘Have you had any morning sickness?’ Jude asked her, before lifting his beer bottle to his mouth.

‘Nope. Except for my reaction to coffee, I’ve been fine,’ Addi replied. ‘It might still kick in but I’m hoping it won’t. Throwing up isn’t my idea of fun.’

She forked up some lettuce and a chunk of fish, and chewed. After swallowing, she decided to ask him about his over-the-top and uncharacteristically panicky reaction when she’d climbed off the boat. ‘Why did you go into a meltdown when I said I had pain in my stomach?’ she asked.

‘I think calling my concern a meltdown is exaggerating,’ Jude told her as he tucked into his lobster roll.

She nudged him with her elbow. ‘You were all “let me call a plane”, “let’s get you to a doctor”,’ she told him. ‘Are you normally such a worrywart?’

When he kept his eyes on his plate, and when his jaw tensed, she realised she’d hit a very big button. She didn’t know how or why, but she intended to find out.

‘What happened, Jude?’ she quietly asked, and put her hand on his, squeezing gently.

He shrugged and took a bite of his roll, but Addi knew he wasn’t tasting any of its delicate flavours. He could pretend to be insouciant, but she saw the pain in his flat green eyes and tension in every muscle in his body.

‘You are, possibly, the most level-headed person I’ve met, so your reaction tells me that something very personal, and painful, happened to you. I’d love it if you shared that with me.’

He might or might not, but she could only ask. She could play the ‘we’re going to be parents’ card, but she didn’t want to force him to tell her, not that she really thought she could. She wanted him to tell her because he liked her, because he felt close to her, and because she thought they were friends as well as lovers.

When Jude finally spoke, his voice was pitched just loud enough for her to make out his words. ‘My mum died from an undiagnosed ectopic pregnancy when I was eight. I was young when it happened, but I clearly remember her complaining of stomach pains. I suppose that memory kicked in when you said you were sore, and my brain jumped to the worst-case scenario.’

Understandable. ‘Is me having a miscarriage something that worries you?’ Addi asked him.

He lifted one big shoulder. ‘To be honest, it’s been such a crazy time that I haven’t given it that much thought. Or allowed myself to think about it.’ He looked out to sea, his expression troubled. ‘But maybe we shouldn’t have married so quickly. There are sound reasons why most couples wait to announce that they are pregnant. It’s because they don’t want to get anyone’s hopes up until the chance of miscarriage has passed.’

‘If that happened, I wouldn’t hold you to anything, Jude,’ she assured him. ‘I’m perfectly fine, and so is our baby.’

‘How do you know?’

She had no idea. ‘I just do.’

When Jude didn’t respond, she thought it best that they move on to another subject. ‘Tell me about your parents,’ she suggested.

He took some time to reply. ‘After my mum died, my dad withered away emotionally. Three years later, he was diagnosed with cancer. He tried chemo and radiation, but nothing took. He died about a year after being diagnosed. I think he died because he didn’t want to live without her, and I wasn’t enough.’

Addi felt her throat close, tears lodging there. ‘I’m so sorry, Jude.’

‘Love can be a pretty destructive force,’ he told her. ‘He only loved her; there was none left over for me.’

Oh, that was just awful, and he’d been so young. ‘Who raised you?’

‘My grandfather. He was an austere, introverted man who had no idea how to handle a lost, grieving boy with too much energy.’ Jude drained his bottle of beer and signalled for another.

‘I was sent away to boarding school when I was thirteen and didn’t see much of him. I spent most of my school holidays at friends’ houses. But I did get monthly letters from my grandfather, which I called “the Sermons”. They were a detailed road map of what was expected of me as a Fisher. Essentially, he plotted and planned my entire life—he selected my degree, when I would join the family business, what university I would attend and how I would conduct myself. Basically, no wine, woman or song.’

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