Everything You Are (12 page)

Mark squeezed her shoulder again. “Jane, even if Ian, after you tell him, refuses to have anything to do with the baby, you can always count on me. I'll be your baby's father.”

“You will?” She put her hand over Mark's, feeling a lump in her throat.

“Yeah. Now...” He stood up. “What do you say to jasmine green tea and strawberry cake?”

“We don't have any strawberry cake.”

“We'll have it, I'll make sure of it. I'll just pop over to the store,” Mark said. “As soon as you decide which C.H. will keep you company while I'm gone, Charlie or Chris?”

They had just re-watched
Thor
yesterday, so... “I think Charlie.”

“
Pacific Rim
?” Mark opened the cabinet under the telly and browsed through it.

“
Nicholas Nickleby
, please.” Or maybe she could re-watch
Cranford
. No,
Nicholas Nickleby
. The drama, despite the sadness of the next to last scene, always managed to make her smile and put her in a good mood.

“
Nicholas Nickleby
it is.” Mark took the DVD case out, turned the telly on and put the DVD into the player. A few clicks of the remote and the scene of the small puppet theatre with a dark-red curtain flashed on the screen.

Jane pushed a pillow behind her, reclined back and put her feet on the coffee table.

Mark stepped toward the door.

“Mark.”

“Yes?” He faced her.

“Thank you.”

“You're welcome.” He smiled. “I have to get even for all the lemon tarts and cuddles you gave me when my father turned into a homophobic closed-minded version of Lady de Bourgh.” A fake scowl drew his eyebrows together and he narrowed his lips. “You made me fat. Do you even know how much weight I put on because of your lemon tarts?”

“Very funny.”

“I'm serious.”

“Yes, yes.” Jane waved him away. “Bring me some strawberry cake.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” Grinning, he bowed and left the room.

Jane glanced at the telly, not really seeing what was on it. Pregnant, huh? Suddenly it didn't sound as terrible as it had a minute before. She had a good friend who said that he would support her, no matter what, and a family who would stand beside her after they got over the initial shock. Now, she only had to determine what to do. She knew what she didn't want to do. She looked down at her belly and the fingers resting on it. She didn't want to lose this baby. She wasn't going to have an abortion and she wasn't willing to put it up for adoption. “Keeping you then, huh? But this is not something I can do on my own.” A crease cut between her eyebrows. “And there's also your daddy.” She sighed and looked at her belly. “You see, he's a horrible player and I don't know how I'm going to share the news about you with him.” A sigh left her throat. She didn't want to tell Ian. “He'd probably accuse me of lying.” Actually she didn't even know how she was going to face him tomorrow. She could probably only take a day or two off, since after that
Thornton Moving Production Offshore
article, things were just too hectic at work, but was that really enough time to prepare herself to see Ian, knowing that she was carrying his child?

Pregnant
. Ian's eyes scrutinised Jane, who stood by the end table, sorting papers and stapling them. They were in the hotel apartment, preparing for a meeting with the workers he was holding two hours from now. His gaze lingered on the curve of her belly. Pregnant, he had overheard Mrs. Smith say to Jane. It would explain Jane's constant rushing to the toilet. It was morning sickness, not a bladder infection like he’d suspected and because of which he, on Beth's advice, had brought her a cup of cranberry tea and supplied her with dried cranberries daily.

She glanced at him, then finding him staring at her, she quickly averted her gaze.

He imagined that he could see the curve of her belly being more pronounced under her shirt, but it could be just his imagination. His lovely, lovely Jane could be pregnant. His jaw locked. That had to be the reason why he hadn’t been able to narrow the distance between them. She was aware of why he kissed her at the airport, or so she had said, and even though she knew about his interest in her, she refused to yield to his subtle seduction. He was a catch, not only because of his looks, but because of his money. That was why girls gladly accepted his advances. They weren't drawn to his personality, but to who he was. Sebastian Thornton Junior, the heir to Thornton Enterprises, son of Sebastian Thornton and Amelia Cromwell. He was a descendent of two old, well-established families. That people wanted to be his friends and that girls wanted to date him because of his family's wealth and reputation was something that he had learned to accept when he was a teenager, and he fully embraced his name as his identifier. But his being Sebastian Thornton Junior didn't impress Jane, and she didn't seem to be drawn to him like other girls were. How did you successfully seduce somebody who didn’t seem to be interested?

She took the papers from the neatly organized stacks on her left, stapled them and set them on the pile on her right.

“Jane, how are you feeling?”

“Okay.”

“Are you certain? You looked pale when we arrived.”

“I didn't feel too well, but I'm fine now.”

He sidestepped the sofa. “Lately, you have been feeling sick quite often.”

“It's nothing.”

“Really?” He moved closer to her. “Are you pregnant?”

Jane flinched, the papers she held in her hand fell down and redness covered her cheeks. “What?” She glanced at him as she squatted down to pick up the papers.

It was true! “You are?” His spine stiffened and his hands fisted. He had been so preoccupied with trying to seduce Jane that he hadn't thought what kind of relationship he wanted with her. It wasn't just sex. He knew that now. If Jane was going to have a baby, it should be with him, nobody else. He should be the father and the one by Jane's side. “Who's the father?”

“What are you talking about?” She rose and set the papers on the table.

“Who's the father?” It couldn't be her friend, Mark. When Ian had posed for his brother's agency, he had met enough gays to recognize one. No, it wasn't Mark. But then who? He needed to know which loser had stolen his Jane away from him. He had thought that she was single; he had thought that he had time to figure how to get close to her and how to woo his way into her bed. “You said you were single.”

“I never said that I was single.”

“On the personal information sheet you ticked off ‘single.’” He stalked toward her. “Who is it, Jane?”

She furrowed her eyebrows and hugged herself. “It’s none of your business.”

He reached her and with one hand on the wall, the other on the edge of the table, he trapped her between his arms. “Is he going to take good care of you? And of your baby?”

“Please, move.”

He towered over her. “Tell me.”

“Ian, please.”

“Tell me.” His hand curled around her shoulder.

She pushed against his chest. “Move.”

“I need to know, Jane.”

“I can't.”

“Why?”

“Just move, okay?”

“No. Not until you tell me.”

“Just move already.” She banged her fists against his chest.

“No.”

“Ian!”

“No.”

“Fine. Fine! You want to know?” With her lips pinched she glared at him. “It's you!” She hung her head and her voice softened to a barely heard whisper. “It's you, you big oaf.”

“Me!” He stumbled backwards. “Me? How -- oh. It wasn't a dream.” Having her in his arms, feeling her softness under his hand and hearing her gasps... it wasn't a dream, born of his yearning for her, it was real. It was real! A big grin twitched at the corner of his mouth, but he fought against it. She had never planned to tell him. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

A small crease cut between her eyebrows. “I thought you didn’t remember. I thought you wouldn't believe me.”

“I remember pieces of it. I thought it was a dream.” He had believed that it was a wonderful dream that, with the way she was shunning him, could never have been real. He frowned. “I... I didn't force myself on you, did I?”

“No.”

“Oh, good. For a moment there...” He cleared his throat. “So, a baby.” He was going to have a child. With Jane! A rush of happiness like a tsunami crashed over him, making him lightheaded. He needed to sit down. Or scoop her up in his arms and dance around, squealing in delight like a little girl. He pushed his greedy hands that wanted to touch her into the pockets of his trousers. “So, I'm going to be a father. I see.” A moment of pause. “Have you already decided what you want to do?”

She locked her arms around her middle. “I'm not going to get rid of it.”

The burden he didn't know he had carried slid off his shoulders and he cleared his throat. “Excellent. Excellent.”

Her head snapped up. “It is?”

“Yes.” They should make plans for the future. Marriage and all that stuff. He had never thought about marriage, but right now it sounded like an excellent idea. Yes, marriage would be great, a perfect way to tie Jane to him officially. With the way his father nagged him about starting a serious relationship, he was probably going to be overjoyed hearing that Ian was thinking of marriage. But somehow he doubted that a marriage proposal would be well-received by Jane; not at such short notice, not with Jane. No, no, he would have to tread carefully and slowly, when all he wanted to do was toss her over his shoulder and carry her home like the caveman that he was. He closed the distance between them and set his hand on her shoulder. “Will you allow me to take care of you and the baby?”

She nodded.

“Excellent.” This time he did allow a grin to curl his mouth upwards. “We can go to your place this evening, so you can pack,” he said, following the saying, ‘You have to forge a tool while it’s hot,’ as his grandmother was fond of saying.

“Pack? Why would I pack?”

“To move in with me.”

“To move in with you?”

“Wouldn't it be more convenient?”

“No.”

“Just think about it.” His hand slid over the curve of her shoulder down her arm. “How much you would save in time and money, if you moved into my apartment.”

“What about Mark?”

“Just because you and Mark won't live together anymore doesn't mean you two will stop being friends.” His fingers tiptoed over her wrist to embrace her hand.

Her eyebrows furrowed. “Isn't that a little extreme? To live together just because I'm pregnant with your child?”

“No, it's the perfect solution.” He pulled her closer to him. “I like having you close to me and with a baby...” His gaze lowered to her abdomen. A baby. With his free hand he touched her stomach. Their baby! “I want to be by your side and I want to be there for you when you need me.”

“But --”

“I could be there for you and the baby even if we are not living together, I know,” he interrupted her. “But I would feel much better if we were together.”

“I would have never thought...” Her gaze lowered to his hand on her belly.

“What?”

“That you would react to the news like this.” She lifted her head. “I have never seen you so happy.” She pinched her eyebrows together as she stared at him, something like wonder painted on her face. “I would have never thought that you wanted a child so badly.”

But that wasn't it. Yes, of course, he had always planned to have a family and children, but that had always been part of a distant future, because he hadn't met the girl with whom he wanted to start his family; until now, that was. If it were anybody else but Jane, he would have taken responsibility, but he would never have proposed the same living arrangement he had to Jane, let alone thought about marriage. Because he was crazy about Jane. “Only with you.”

She shook her head, smiling.

She didn't believe him. Why? It didn't matter, though. Good luck had smiled down on him -- he didn't know why, but he must have done something good in his life -- and served him Jane on a silver platter. He kissed her, restraining the touch to a small brush of his mouth, then he lifted her up and twirled her around. “I'm going to be a father.”

She giggled, such a sweet sound, while her hands gripped his shoulders.

He laughed as he continued to twirl them around the room. His precious Jane was going to have a child. Their child. A little Jane, with brown hair and big grey eyes like her mama. He already loved her, the little thing that was now only a small dot in Jane's belly. She was going to call him Papa and he was going to give her the world, his little princess, and spoil her silly, fulfilling every wish before she even made it, and Jane would scold him because of it all the time.

“Stop. Stop it.” Panic laced her voice and her nails dug into his skin.

He froze. “What?”

“I don't feel too well.” She covered her mouth.

His eyes darted around. Toilet. With her in his arms, he ran to the door that led to a bathroom, kicked the door open and released her beside the toilet.

She wrapped her arms around the porcelain bowl and leaned over it, gurgling.

“What should I do? Do you need anything? Is there anything I can do? Jane? Anything at all?”

Leaned over the toilet, without looking up, she gestured that it was nothing.

Deep breath, deep breath
, he told himself. He rushed to the sink, wetted a towel, which he folded and pressed against the back of her neck, while his other hand smoothed her hair away from her face. “I'm sorry.”

“It's okay,” she managed to say between burps. “Just the afternoon version of morning sickness.”

“It's my fault. I got too excited.” He squatted down. “Is there anything that I can do?”

She shook her head.

“Are you certain?”

She nodded.

“I'm sorry.” He bent over her and pressed a kiss on the top of her head. “My little Pukki.”

“Puki?”

“Pukki, with two k’s.” He pressed another kiss on her hair. “Because you puke and because Pukki sounds much better than Pukey.”

“Seriously?” This time she looked up, her face tearful and looking as if she was sick, which she was. She raised her eyebrows.

She looked adorable and pathetic at the same time, and he couldn't tear his eyes off her. “Is it worse than a big oaf?”

“Sorry about that.” She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.

“You can call me a big oaf anytime.” He dabbed her face with the towel, charmed by the pathetic expression that still lingered on her face. “Do you feel better?”

She nodded.

“I really want to kiss you right now.”

“I just vomited.”

“I know.” He straightened, went to the cabinet above the sink and rummaged through his toilet bag. He had put some toothbrushes in there. Ah there they were, four of them, two to a pack. He took one out of its wrapper, grabbed the toothpaste and turned around.

Jane clung to the toilet, her body spamming.

Ian glanced first at the toothbrush then at her. He sighed, his shoulders slumping. It seemed that the kissing would have to wait. His eyes lowered to the toothbrush again and another sigh left his throat. What a shame.