The Innocent's Shock Pregnancy

‘I was ten when they broke up, and they spent the next two years fighting over shared access of me.’

‘You were popular, then?’ He gave a light tease, but she didn’t smile.

‘I don’t think either of them actually wanted shared care—they just didn’t want to give in to the other.’

There was still hurt there when she thought back to that time. Although she felt silly sometimes, when she heard what others had gone through—like Ethan, who had not only lost his mother but then had to endure an endless parade of stepmothers.

He watched her fall silent and put down her cutlery. She stared at it for a moment, silently, but when the waiter came and asked if everything was okay she turned and gave a bright smile.

‘Amazing, thank you.’

The mask was back.

Ethan read women very easily. In fact, he read most people with ease.

He just couldn’t quite read Merida.

She was friendly, and appeared confident, yet there was a vulnerability to her that he could not place. It was more that he sensed it rather than saw it.

‘Did either of your parents have more children?’ Ethan asked.

‘Yes.’ Merida’s smile remained. ‘My father had a son and my mother a daughter.’

‘Are you close to them?’

‘I see them when I can, and I babysit,’ she said, not really answering the question.

‘Babysit?’ He frowned. ‘How old are the children?’

‘Oh, they’re ten and eleven now. I mean, I used to take them to their sports clubs and such, when I was able. You know...if their parents couldn’t manage it.’

‘I expect it’s been nice having a break, then.’

‘I don’t mind doing it—when I can, of course. I don’t want them to miss out on stuff.’

‘Such as...?’’

‘Activities.’

‘Did you?’

Oh, please don’t ask me this, Merida thought.

She did not want to go there and ruin a perfectly lovely night, but it felt as if he’d suddenly skipped the niceties and gone straight to the jugular.

It was just a question, she told herself.

But a pertinent one.

‘It’s really not that big a deal,’ Merida said.

‘Then you won’t mind sharing.’

‘Of course not. I got cast in a big West End theatre production,’ Merida finally said. ‘When I was twelve. It was huge. Of course they were very strict about performing hours for children, and really you needed to have your parents completely on board. At first they were really encouraging,’ Merida said, and then an edge came into her voice. ‘I’m certain that was more for the courts, though.’

Oh, she did mind sharing this, and fought to find a more relaxed tone.

‘The rehearsals were for six weeks, and at first either my mum or dad was always there to pick me up. But then it got more difficult. Dad had a new job, and my mum and I moved quite a distance away...’

‘You had to let it go?’

Merida nodded. She didn’t go into detail—how much it had hurt to let go of the part she had coveted and worked so hard for. How lost and confused she had felt when, once joint custody had finally been awarded, when the war was over in a tie, Merida hadn’t felt particularly wanted by either of her parents.

That would be a bit much for a first date.

And then she qualified that thought, not really sure if this could be classified as a date.

As the waiter cleared their plates all Merida knew was that here was where she wanted to be—even if she found him daunting. Only it wasn’t his wealth or his financial prowess that daunted her, and it wasn’t even his reputation with women.

It was this.

How much she liked him.

His utter ability to make the world disappear.

They could be sitting in a late-night diner eating burgers and she would feel exactly as she did now—connected.

She was telling Ethan things she had only ever told her closest friend, Naomi.

‘How much longer are you in New York?’ Ethan asked.

‘That depends,’ Merida said, and then admitted the truth. ‘I’m nearing desperation if I want to stay here.’

She didn’t want to bring the night down with cold facts. But, as much as she loved performing in Near Miss, it paid just a tiny stipend, and her work at the gallery covered little more than the rent.

Although there was still hope.

‘I’ve got an audition tomorrow morning, for a part on a prime-time television show.’

‘What part?’

‘You won’t laugh?’

‘I rarely do.’

‘A hooker,’ Merida said. ‘And a corpse. Although you might not believe it, playing a corpse does involve acting.’

He didn’t laugh, but he did smile.