I CLICK SEND ON the text message to Jaxon and slip my phone back inside my bag, staring out of the car window at the rain lashing down.
âAre you okay?â Abigail asks from the driverâs seat, her voice full of concern.
âI donât know what to think anymore. I really donât.â
The sinking feeling thatâs been in my chest pretty much every day for the last week is showing no signs of easing off.
âNeither do I, Meg. This isnât the Jaxon I know. Heâs not like this.â Abigail screws her face up in confusion. âItâs like heâs been taken over by something. Something thatâs making him act like a totally different person.â
âI donât understand why he came. Why did he even bother when heâs obviously more bothered about this stupid work trip heâs got today? He didnât even stay until the end. The sonographer came back with the photographs and told me the due date, and he missed it. Heâd already pissed off.â
My eyes sting as I bring my gaze back down to the little black and white images Iâm holding in my hands.
âWork trip?â Abigail glances at me as she pulls up to a red light.
âYeah. When I was at Mum and Dadâs, he texted me and asked to meet up on Tuesday. Said he had a work thing Monday, so it had to be Tuesday. But I guess he changed his mind when you told him about the scan.â
âMe?â Abigail turns to look at me. âWhat are you talking about? I didnât tell him. I thought you must have?â
âNo, I didnât⦠Martin?â
Abigail shakes her head at me. A car honks its horn behind us, so she drives off, waving a hand up to the driver behind in apology.
âI never told Martin. Itâs not my news to tell.â
I frown and screw up my nose.
âHow did Jaxon know I had a scan booked, then?â
âBeats me.â Abigail shrugs. âAlthough, I saw Jo at the hospital whilst I was waiting for you.â She taps the fingers of one hand against the steering wheel as she thinks. âShe came out to the main entrance area, looking around like she was expecting someone.â
âWhoâs Jo?â I tuck the scan photographs in between the pages of my sketchbook and slide it back into my bag.
âJaxonâs sister-in-law. Well, ex-sister-in-law, Penelopeâs sister.â
âOh, right. Heâs never mentioned her.â
âI guess heâd have no reason to. It was strange, though. She seemed surprised to see me. Sheâd normally stop and chat for ages, but she seemed to want to get away. Maybe she was just busy, probably had a patient waiting.â
âA patient? Is she a doctor?â I ask, my mind wandering to Jaxon, the way he grabbed my hand at the scan and seemed so worried about the baby. And then the way he held my chin and kissed me backâkissed me like there was much more he wanted to say⦠but couldnât.
âOncologist, an amazing one. She treated Martin.â Abigail smiles as she says his name.
âReally?â
âMmm-hmm. Sheâs incredible. She has a consultation clinic over on Harley Street but is often at the hospital.â
Abigail pulls up outside the Articulate building.
âThanks for the lift.â I smile at her. âNow I just have to sneak inside without Phil noticing Iâm late and hope that Lydiaâs powers of distraction have worked.â
âGood luck!â
I roll my eyes. âThanks. I have a feeling Iâll need it. Hey, do you fancy Barre class later, after work? Itâll stop me from going home and getting straight into my pyjamas again.â
Abigailâs eyes light up. âYes! That would be amazing. Martinâs staying at Jaxonâs for the night, so Iâm free as a bird.â
âBoys sleepover?â I scowl, a pang of jealousy disguised as anger hitting me. Heâll spend time with Martin, but he wonât even stay for the whole of his babyâs scan appointment.
âYeah, I thought the same. He sometimes stays if thereâs a sports game they want to watch, and it finishes late. But I get the bare minimum in the way of info. This time, though, he would not stop talking. The way he does when heâs up to something. Do you know what I mean? Like heâs over-compensating for not being one hundred per cent truthful.â
âYou think heâs lying?â
Abigail chews on her bottom lip. âI donât think heâs lying about going to Jaxonâs. But I think thereâs more to it than heâs letting on.â
âMaybe theyâre working on his book?â
Abigail shakes her head. âI donât think so⦠I donât know. Maybe Iâm just reading something into it when thereâs nothing there.â
I lean over and give her a hug. âWell, whatever theyâre doing, it means I get you for the evening. So thatâs good news.â
âAbsolutely.â She grins. âSee you later.â
I get into the office with no one even raising their eyes from their desk. Philâs office door is closed, and thereâs no sign of Lydia.
I fire up my computer and work my way through my emails. Most are the usual office notices, Phil insisting that people label and date their lunch clearly if they put it in the fridge. Apparently, someone left some cream cheese in there, which was weeks out of date, and began growing a questionable green fur.
I click on an email from T. Laverty at King Publishing.
Good morning Megan,
I just wanted to say again what a pleasure it has been meeting and working with you on this project. You are an exceptionally talented illustrator. I know the future holds great things for you, whether that be at Articulate or somewhere else.
I sincerely hope this isnât the last time our paths cross, and we get the chance to work together again. Call me anytime. To talk about work, ideas, or just for a chat.
Tina.
I sit back in my seat. Thatâs so nice of her. Working with Tina is a dream. Sheâs nothing like Phil. I canât imagine her giving me a ânot another oneâ look if I were to tell her Iâm pregnant. Not like Phil did when one of the design team fell pregnant last year. He turned down her application for flexible working, and her desk has now become a dumping area for extra files from his office. He still hasnât sorted them out yet, even with roping Lydia in to do most of it for him.
That is one conversation I am not looking forward to having. I still donât know what to do. What my feasible options are. Take nine monthsâ maternity, I guess? Then what? Come back full time and lose most of my salary on childcare costs?
I rub my temples with my fingertips. This is too much to think about right now.
âHey, hot mama.â Lydia appears, perching herself on my desk, wearing what I can only describe as the sexiest work dress ever made.
âLyds!â My eyes widen as I take in the skin-tight black dress.
It hugs her in all the right places and has a red lace edging around the hem and red lace peeking out from the low-cut sweetheart neckline.
âI know, pretty sweet, huh?â She pouts at me, her bright red lips glistening. âDid the trick, though. Phil sat at his desk like a good boy all morning whilst I did more filing in his office.â
I shake my head and grin at her.
âI owe you. Thank you.â
âAnytime, thatâs what friends are for. Besides, black seems to have awoken the dirtier poetic side to Tim.â She bites her lip before a wicked grin spreads across her face.
âDo I want to know?â I pull a face at her.
âProbably not. But letâs just say, this dress will get even more attention tonight after work.â She smirks.
âHeâs still speaking to you after you turned him down, then?â
âOf course, he is. Thatâs all sorted. I told him to think of being down on his knees in front of me as practice for what I have in mind for him later.â
I pretend to cover my ears.
Lydia giggles as she slides off the desk. âFine. Tell me about this morning. How did it go?â
I pull my sketchpad out of my bag and open it to the page where the scan pictures are tucked, handing them to Lydia.
âMeg. This is your baby.â She looks back at me, her eyes bright and full of energy.
âSo, it would seem.â I smile.
âThis is really happening,â she whispers, a grin glued to her face. âIâm going to be such a cool auntie.â
âYes, you are.â I laugh. âAlthough we might need some ground rules on appropriate language and conversation topics.â
She shrugs her shoulders. âI can behave. Itâs not as much fun being a boring adult, but youâre going to love your auntie Lyds,â she coos to the photos.
I laugh. I wouldnât have had her down as a baby person. Sheâs young and carefree, going out partying at the weekends and dreaming of taking off travelling. Lydiaâs a free spirit. I guess loving other peopleâs babies is entirely different from having your own. No life-changing choices over what to do about work, no night feeds, nappies, sore boobs, stretch marks, no giving birth. I shudder.
My phone rings in my bag, and I pull it out.
âItâs my mum,â I say to Lydia.
She gives me a small wave and mouths, âsee you later,â as she struts off toward the lifts. Probably on her way to accounts to give Tim a sneak-peek of what he has in store.
I hit answer.
âHi, Mum.â
âHi, Megan. Iâm not disturbing you, am I? I just wanted to see how this morning went at the scan?â Her voice is breathless, as though she has just run up a flight of stairs.
âIt was good. They said it all looks normal. Baby is healthy.â
My hand drops to my stomach. Apart from being bloated, thereâs nothing there yet. I should have time to figure out what to do about work before Phil notices anything.
âOh, thatâs wonderful news. Just wonderful,â she puffs. âListen, your father and I have been talking. We think you should move back home with us. Just whilst the babyâs small. We can help. Youâll never be able to afford London rent and childcare by yourself.â
I rub my lips together. Sheâs right. I know sheâs right. The figures donât add up. But the idea of moving back in with Mum and Dad seems like giving up somehow.
âThink about it,â she says when I donât answer. âItâs an option, Megan.â
âOkay, Mum. Thank you.â
âGood.â She lets out another big puff.
âMum, what are you doing?â
âIâm just out⦠having a walk. With your father.â More puffing, and this time the unmistakable wheeze of my dad in the background.
âMum! He sounds like heâs about to have a heart attack.â
âOh, heâs fine. Arenât you?â A small murmur of agreement pants in the background.
âI didnât know you and Dad had started up power-walking?â
This is the most bizarre thing Iâve heard in a long time. The idea of my dad doing anything more strenuous than a stroll to the local pub for a pint and a bag of pork scratchings is totally out of character.
âItâs never too late to make healthier choices. Besides, we want to be around to see our grandchild grow up.â
âMum, youâre hardly that old.â I smile as I study the scan images. White curves and bumps. A little head, a tiny tummy. âDad will give up the pub next.â
âHeâs going to cut back.â She drops her voice low, âeven got him to try a green smoothie this morning. Full of antioxidants and cancer-fighting free radicals. I read it in the paper.â
âIâm impressed. I never thought Dad would ever drink anything green, even if it is full of cancer-fightingââ my heart plummets in my chest as ice spreads through my veins.
âMum,â my voice is scratchy in my throat, âcan I call you back?â
âOkay, love. Speak later,â she puffs.
I end the call and dial Abigail, blood rushing in my ears as my heart pounds against my ribs.
âHey, Meg. Whatâsââ
âAbigail,â I blurt. âWhat if Jaxon wasnât there for the scan at all?â
âWhat? I donât understand.â
âCrap, my boss is on the prowl. Iâve got to go. Weâll talk about it tonight.â
I end the call as Phil comes out of his office.
My mindâs whirling with possibilities. None of which are good.
It canât be.
Iâm just getting carried away, reading too much into things. Itâs just a coincidence. Jaxon told me himself, he doesnât want to be involved because heâs too old to do the dad thing again.
Thatâs all there is to it.
Yet I know as well as he does what that excuse is.
A load of crap.
âThink about it,â I say to Abigail, blowing on my hot chocolate.
I donât care that Iâm probably undoing all my work from the Barre class weâve just done. My mindâs been spinning all day since speaking to Mum. I need the sugar.
âI donât know. It could just be a coincidence.â Two lines appear between her eyebrows as she frowns.
This is the second time weâve been over this, yet weâre still no closer to figuring anything out.
âI hope so. I just canât shake this feeling that somethingâs off. If you didnât tell him about the scan, and Martin didnât knowâ¦. thereâs no other way he could have even known about it. What if he wasnât there for the scan at all? What if he was there for some other reason?â
âLike what?â Abigail takes a sip of her drink as she eyes me over the rim of the mug.
âI donât know.â I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. âI mean, could he have been having some tests, do you think? I know it sounds stupid, but you said you saw Jo there and said she seemed like she was looking for someone? Do you think it could have been Jaxon? Or do you think Iâm just being paranoid?â
She looks at her mug, seeming to give my wild theory serious consideration. âI mean, itâs possible. Or maybe he was visiting someone at the hospital?â
I shake my head. âSurely heâd have said if he was. Plus, the way he left so quickly before the appointment was over⦠I was so angry at him, thinking he was rushing off to a work thing. I saw his phone. I didnât put it together before. But the name on the screen⦠it was Joanna calling him. It got me thinking. When you mentioned his sister-in-law, Joââ
âShort for Joanna,â Abigail cuts in, her eyes widening.
I nod. âExactly. Tell me, why would she be calling him? He said he had to go, and the look on his face, Abigailââ I rub my hands down my cheeks, âhe looked broken.â
She puts her forearms on the table between us and leans forwards.
âOkay. Say he was meeting Joanna for some health issue. Why wouldnât he just tell you about it? You guys are having a baby.â
âI donât know. I donât know what to think anymore. He tried to tell me he was no good for me from the beginning. But then things changed, and it was wonderful. He was wonderful. For the two minutes it lasted, anyway,â I mutter.
âThen thatâs when he ended things?â
I breathe in past the dull ache in my chest.
âYeah. Thatâs when he ended things out of the blue. He was sick from work, which Tina, his colleague, said never happens. And when I went over to his place, it was a tip. He looked like heâd been on some junk food bender.â
âJaxon, and junk food?â
âExactly,â I raise my eyes to Abigailâs, âthe two rarely go together. He doesnât even drink.â
âI know. Heâs always telling Martin how important taking care of your health is. Especially since his diagnosis.â
We fall into silence for a few minutes.
âIâm calling Martin.â
âWhat?â
Abigail looks back at me, a steely determination in her eyes.
âHeâs there now, with Jaxon. Theyâre having their boyâs night. Boyâs night, my arse. Theyâre up to something,â she snorts.
She places her phone between us on the table, raising a finger to her lips, before hitting the speaker button.
âHey, babe,â Martin answers, sounding like his usual self. âYou missing me already?â
âYou wish.â Abigail rolls her eyes. âIâm going to enjoy having the bed to myself tonight.â
Martin chuckles.
âSo, what are you boys doing?â
âOh, you knowâ¦â he trails off as Abigail looks at me, raising an eyebrow.
âIs the game good?â
âWhat?â
âThe game? You said you two were watching a sports game tonight.â
âOh, yeah, yeah⦠itâs good.â There are some muffled sounds, as though Martin is covering the phone and talking to someone else.
âWhat is it that youâre watching? Rugby?â Abigail presses.
âNo, um⦠a baseball game. Itâs on one of Jaxonâs fancy-arse extra TV channels he pays too much money for.â
âHowâs Jaxon doing?â
Martinâs voice is hesitant, âwhat do you mean, howâs he doing?â
âJust that.â Abigail keeps her voice light. âCanât I ask after our friend?â
âHeâs fine. Heâs Jaxon. Same as usual. No different to normal,â Martin says quickly, his voice uneven.
Abigail looks at me with a half-smile.
âOkay then, babe. Iâll leave you boys to it.â
âAlright, baby,â Martin sighs, sounding relieved.
âLove you.â
âLove you too.â
She jabs the button on her phone. âSee. I told you! Lying through his teeth.â
âHe sounded a bit flustered,â I agree, staring down at her phone.
âI can always tell when heâs lying. Heâs so crap at it.â
I sit back in my chair. If only it were that easy to tell with Jaxon. Maybe the nice guy was the act? And this is the real him? I canât let myself believe that. Iâve seen the kind, genuine side of him. Itâs real. Itâs this other Jaxon thatâs the imposter.
Abigail drums her fingers on the table. âWe should go over there. See what theyâre really doing.â
âI donât think thatâs a good idea.â As much as I want to know what heâs hiding and find a reason for his behaviour, turning up at his place unannounced tonight isnât the way to go. After all, look how well that turned out last time. Saying that, heâs already ditched me and pushed me away. What else is left?
Abigail crosses her arms and lets out a sigh. âYeah, youâre right. Martin knows Iâm onto him, though. Heâll be sweating tomorrow when he gets home. Maybe heâll let something slip.â
âYeah, maybe. You know what?â I straighten my back in the seat. âEven if I donât find out whatâs going on, I donât need him. I can do this alone.â
âYouâre not alone, Meg.â She reaches over to take my hand.
âI know, thank you,â I whisper. âMy mum and dad have offered for me to move back home with them, too. So, thatâs an option.â
âOne you donât like the sound of?â She frowns as she studies my face.
âGod, I sound so ungrateful, donât I?â My face drops into my spare hand.
âOf course not! Youâre a thirty-year-old woman with a career. Why would you want to give that all up and move in with your parents?â
âI know. Itâs just⦠what if itâs better, you know? For the baby? We will have more support around, and maybe I could do some freelance work like I wanted to.â
âBut youâd be leaving your life behind. Your friends, your job at Articulate.â
I smirk. âLeaving a boss like Phil behind doesnât seem like such a bad thing⦠But then, I still think Iâd choose him over being unemployed and reliant on my parents. Why does being a grown-up have to be so complicated?â
âBeats me.â Abigail smiles.
âMy mum gave up her dreams when she had my brother and then me. Is it selfish that I donât want to give up mine?â
âItâs not selfish, Meg. Youâre human.â
âI know, but itâs not about me anymore, is it? I have someone else to think of.â
âYes. And you also have yourself to look after. You donât cease existing as an individual when you have a child. You still need your own dreams. Besides, what better example is there than a mum who still kicks arse, following her dreams? Thereâs no better example you could set for the baby.â She smiles at me, her eyes full of warmth. âYouâll be okay, Meg.â
I smile back at her as my brain runs away with theory after theory of what could be going on with Jaxon.
Maybe I will be okay.
Will he?