Page 42 of 2 Books in One Bundle

‘Excuse me,’ he said, wholly focused on the need to escape to safety and regroup. ‘I need to go.’

The slam of her front door rang in her ears for hours, but although gutted that Zander hadn’t swept her into his arms while confessing he loved her too, Mia wasn’t entirely surprised that he’d hared off as if he had the hounds of hell at his feet. Spooking him with her declaration of love had always been a possibility. It wasn’t the first time he’d retreated when feeling under threat. He’d frequently needed a moment or two to process information he’d been presented with.

The important thing was that she’d told him how she felt and made him aware of how she was certain he felt. The ball was now in his court, and with any luck it wouldn’t take him too long to work things through and bat it back.

Until that happened she had plenty to occupy herself. She’d reacquaint herself with her flat, which seemed very small and cramped after eight days in his palatial apartment. She’d hunt around for a spare toothbrush and toothpaste since she’d left hers in her bag in his car. Then she’d work on the plans she’d conceived while staying with him. She’d been thinking of making Hattie a partner in the business. She’d soon need a lot of help and support, not to mention time off, and not only did she trust Hattie implicitly, her friend and colleague had earned it.

Giving him space would be tough and she’d miss him hugely, but she wasn’t a teenager, pining by the phone. She could handle one night on her own. Her future and that of their child depended on her giving him space to come to the only conclusion there was, so the one thing she wouldnotdo was pressurise him.

However, after two days of complete radio silence, an increasingly confused and distressed Mia had to confront the fact that not only did Zander not intend to send anything back in the way of a ball, but also, he quite possibly wasn’t even in the game.

What was taking him so long? she wondered worriedly as she deveined some prawns for tonight’s drinks party for fifty with a peeling knife. Why did history seem to be repeating itself? Surely it was blindingly obvious how good they could be together.

Unless it wasn’t, of course, and he couldn’t think of anything worse.

Could that be it?

Had she somehow managed to get completely the wrong idea and pushed him away with her prodding and poking and the attempts she’d kept making to burrow beneath his surface? Had she put him under pressure to give her something he wasn’t ready to give?

That had happened before.

Could it have happened again?

Her heart gave a quick lurch at the thought of it, the knife slipped and she nicked her finger. Berating her stupidity on more than one front, Mia abandoned the prawns, grabbed some kitchen towel and went in search of the first aid kit.

Had she really not learnedanythingfrom her previous relationships? Why had she had to say something? Why hadn’t she been content with the status quo, with seeing how things played out, as she’d told herself she would on so many occasions?

But what if he’dneverbe able to give her what she truly wanted, which was him? she wondered, her hands trembling as she opened the box and hunted around for a plaster. What if he didn’t love her? What then? She hadn’t considered that possibility—one of many, it seemed, that had slipped her by—but now she had to. She had to accept the fact that she might well have taken a risk and lost.

And, God, it was as if that knife had sliced and diced her heart, so much did it hurt. Her eyes stung and a hot lump lodged in her throat.

If thatwasthe case, how would she bear it?

What had she done?

And when he met someone else—or many someone elses, as he inevitably would—even if he didn’t parade them in front of her and their child, she’d know they were there, and the thought of it was agony.

‘The smallest cuts are the worst,’ said Hattie, wincing in sympathy as Mia removed the kitchen towel pad and applied the plaster.

‘You’re absolutely right,’ Mia replied, swallowing down that lump and snapping on a glove.

No doubt she was going to suffer a thousand of them. But she had to be strong because she couldn’t just draw a line under everything and try to move on. At some point they were going to have to communicate, and if Zander wasn’t going to initiate it, then she would.

But for that, she’d have to get her feelings under control so she wouldn’t break down in front of him and beg him to forget she’d ever said anything, and that wasn’t yet.

Three days after Zander had fled Mia’s flat he’d fixed nothing and was no closer to working anything through.

They’d been the longest, most frustrating days of his life.

He couldn’t concentrate. His appetite had dropped off a cliff. Unable to sleep at his apartment, which held too many damn memories, he’d taken up residence in the suite at his office, not that that had made any difference.

He didn’t know which way was up. He was scratchy and unreasonable. The minute he arrived at the office, his assistants scurried to hide.

And he hated it.

It wasn’t him.

He’d had plenty of time to think about everything Mia had said. Certainly enough to admit she was right. Hewasin love with her. He probably had been from the moment he’d laid eyes on her. He’d spent weeks suppressing the memory of it, but when he’d taken her hand in her unit on an east London industrial estate that ordinary afternoon in June, he’d felt as though he’d splintered apart and reformed differently. Even if she hadn’t got pregnant, he would have eventually given in and sought her out.

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