The nausea returned and she raced to the bathroom. She smacked her forehead with the palm of her hand in anger, raking her fingers through her hair and pulling hard on it. How could she have made this mistake? Sure, she’d been thinking about a farewell fling—but her boss? She’d known it was a dumb move but she hadn’t been able to resist the lust. And now look where it had got her.

In a few weeks she would be homeless and jobless. Returning to a country in which she had no family to speak of. And to cap it all off she was pregnant.

She inhaled deeply. Her mother had survived an accidental pregnancy and done a great job of bringing her up—and that was as a teenager. At least Lissa had a few more years on her side. Shame she didn’t have any more sense. Now she had gone and done the one thing her mother had warned her of. Not once but twice. The first time it had only been her job she’d lost. This time, the price was far higher.

Her thoughts returned to Rory. Terrified of his reaction, she debated when to tell him. Whether to tell him.

She blanched.

No, she had to tell him. But not yet. She couldn’t face it just yet. Besides, it was so early. She should leave it a few days and retest. Maybe it was wrong. Could you get false positives?

Emotionally drained, she dragged herself back to her bedroom and collapsed in a heap. Every old fear and doubt crowded in on her, rushing back, stronger than ever. Exhausted, she lay awake all night, lonely and at a loss.

It felt as if the next few days were a year in the passing. Each hour seemed to take for ever. She frequently went to the toilet, hoping she was wrong. Trying to hide how bad she felt from him, but unwilling to spend time apart because everything felt right again when she was in his arms. It was her sole source of comfort; weak as she was, she couldn’t help herself. Despite her fears of how he would react when he found out, despite knowing their affair was going nowhere, she couldn’t stay away from him. And she hated herself for it. But she couldn’t fight the need, couldn’t fight the fact that she just wanted to be with him for as long as she could.

And she couldn’t help but recall the photos she’d seen in his album that first weekend they’d had together. The images of the emerald-eyed boy who had had such a gorgeous smile and broad shoulders even then. And she dreamed of what their own child would look like—would it be a junior Rory? Would it have those beautiful eyes? And she couldn’t help but hope for yes.

But Rory was no fool. He saw how tired she was, how much of a battle it was to eat.

Finally he challenged her. ‘I think you should see a doctor.’

‘No!’ The vehement refusal rang out.

He gave her a sharp look.

‘It’s just a tummy bug or something.’ She winced at the pleading note in her voice.

‘If it’s a bug you should be over it by now. It’s been more than a few days.’ He was right. He knew it and she knew it.

It was impossible to mask how terrible she was feeling. Another week had passed. She’d retested. Same result.

She worried more. For the future and frantically about how she should tell Rory. She knew she had to, but she just couldn’t bring herself to do it. Terrified of his reaction. Unable to bear the anger and scorn she’d certainly face. But, most of all, terrified of where this news would take them. She finally found the strength to pull away from him. She’d better get used to it after all.

She spent two nights home alone, telling him she just needed some rest and would be better in no time. She walked along her favourite riverside walks, looking at the buildings she loved, trying to recapture the excitement of being a foreigner in London and the love of life before Rory. She went to the Tate to escape into art, but only had the energy to sit and watch the people go by. And she watched them, the couples, the families, the friends, and the fear simply wouldn’t go away.

The third day, after a gruelling few hours at work she left early. Back at her flat she’d just flushed away another bout of sickness when she heard the knock at the door. Only one person knocked like that. She quickly brushed her teeth and scrubbed at her face. The second she opened the door he brushed past her into the main room looking less than pleased.

‘You’ve just been sick again, haven’t you?’

She stared at him. How could he be so acute? He’d only just walked in the door.

‘You look pale and your eyes are all watery.’

Definitely watery; they had been for a few days now.

‘Here.’ He handed her a paper bag.

‘What is it?’

Sighing, he took it from her and pulled out a blue rectangular box.

Her eyes widened. A home pregnancy test.

‘I think you should do it, Lissa.’ He spoke softly, his expression serious.

‘No.’

‘Come on. I’ve seen my sister go through three pregnancies; I know the signs.’