Yours by Vanessa Carnevale

Author:Vanessa Carnevale [Carnevale, Vanessa]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781838886523
Publisher: Bookouture
Published: 2020-08-07T04:00:00+00:00

Twenty-Seven

Nick

I haven’t spoken to Paige all day, though she texted me to let me know how her appointment with Victoria went and what medication she was prescribed. The experience of finding out we are expecting our second child is nothing like I imagined it would be. The strangest part is, I’m not thinking about becoming a father at all. How can I, when Paige’s life is at risk? How can I focus on anything but her right now?

As I push my key into the lock, I steel myself, reminding myself to stay calm, knowing Paige is going to be emotional and I need to cut her some slack even if I am still angry that we are in this situation in the first place.

‘Hey,’ I say, depositing my keys on the bench. I let my satchel slide off my shoulder.

She steps forward and hugs me. ‘Hi,’ she says, her arms enveloping me. She looks up into my eyes. ‘I couldn’t stop thinking about you today.’

‘Me too,’ I say, but it’s hard to meet her gaze.

She peels herself away from my unusually stiff body. We need to figure this out, and until we do I won’t be able to relax.

‘So, I made eggplant lasagne for dinner. I’ve never paid so much close attention to a recipe in my life.’

I smirk, the natural response I usually have to Paige when it comes to her adventures in the kitchen, and then, without willing it to, my face goes serious. ‘We really need to talk.’ I’m already moving towards the sofa in the living room. I haven’t been this jittery since taking my university exams.

We sit opposite each other, and she props a cushion in front of her and hugs it, waiting for me to speak first.

‘Okay, so when was your LMP?’ I say. I know I sound like a doctor but I’m too preoccupied to care.

‘My what?’ She frowns at me.

‘Your last menstrual period.’

‘You’re speaking to me like you’re a doctor.’

‘I am a doctor.’

‘You’re my husband, not my doctor.’

My expression doesn’t change. ‘When was it, Paige?’

‘I don’t know exactly.’

‘Well, can you check your diary?’

‘My diary? I don’t keep tabs on my period in my diary,’ she says, and I can tell her irritation just spiked. ‘I can barely keep tabs on my own birthday.’

‘But you use a diary.’

She screws up her face. ‘Not for that! What woman keeps tabs on their period in their diary? Diaries are for birthdays and holidays and appointments and—’

‘Surely you have some idea,’ I press, rubbing the back of my neck.

She stares at me blankly. ‘I can’t think straight. And you putting pressure on me isn’t helping.’

I sigh and remind myself that she hasn’t had a chance to sort through all this yet. ‘When did you find out?’

‘Mum’s birthday. Right before you came home. And I didn’t mean for you to find out the way you did. I was just… I was in shock and I couldn’t hold it in.’

I replay the scene in my mind and quickly push it aside.

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