Their Pregnancy Gift

And this really wasn’t the most appropriate time for his libido to wake up.

Clearly his touch didn’t have quite the same effect on Dani, because, totally businesslike, she asked, ‘Have you met your biological father?’

‘Yes. I went over to America a week or so after Mum told me about him. It wasn’t the easiest of meetings and Stephen didn’t really acknowledge me—though he wasn’t that well. I did go to see him again a few days later and we managed to talk a bit.’ He shrugged. ‘I didn’t feel any real connection to him.’ Nothing like the connection he’d once had with Will Morgan, the man he’d grown up believing was his father. ‘Stephen’s my biological father, but it doesn’t feel as if that means anything at all.’

‘It takes more than sperm to make someone a dad. We see that every day at work,’ she said.

He liked how clear-sighted she was. ‘But meeting him, seeing how much his health had deteriorated, made me think,’ he said. ‘Stephen’s partner Catriona had become his carer, and I didn’t want to put that kind of potential burden on my partner. So when I came back from America I ended my engagement.’

She raised an eyebrow. ‘Did you give her the choice, or did you make the decision for her?’

The question caught him on the raw—she’d said she wasn’t judging him, but the tone of her voice said otherwise. That he was at fault for setting Lara free. ‘It was more a case of jumping before I was pushed.’

‘I’m sorry. Just the way you said it...’

He sighed. ‘Yes, I ended it. But she’d backed away from me ever since I told her about the Huntington’s. I don’t blame her. Would you want to get married to someone, knowing that in twenty years’ time or even less you’ll have to be their carer?’

‘Maybe. Maybe not. Though that’s what marriage is meant to be—in sickness and in health. Whether you know about it beforehand or not.’ She looked him straight in the eye. ‘But I’d want the choice to be mine, not made for me.’

‘I saw the relief in her eyes,’ he said softly. ‘Because if she’d been the one to end it, people would’ve thought she was heartless.’

‘Wasn’t she?’

‘Not everyone can cope with that kind of burden. Stephen was lucky, because Catriona really loved him and was prepared to look after him. But it’s a massive task—one I wouldn’t want to dump on someone.’ He blew out a breath. ‘Lara wasn’t heartless. She just couldn’t cope. And I didn’t want her to stay with me out of duty or feel bad for ending it.’

‘So you ended it. Making you look like the heartless one.’

‘Or the one whose life went into meltdown.’ He sighed. ‘I pushed everyone else away after that, too. My best friend. Friends at work. I didn’t want to be a burden to anyone. And the very last thing I wanted was pity.’

‘Noted,’ she said. ‘Do you miss her?’

‘I did at first, but not any more.’ Not since he’d stopped believing in love. ‘Everything’s different now. I took a sabbatical to try and get my head round the situation. I went travelling.’

‘Did it help?’ she asked.

‘Not that much,’ he admitted. ‘I really missed work. At least there I know who I am. I thought maybe a new start in a new place would help, and that’s why I accepted the job at Muswell Hill.’

* * *

And that explained a lot, Dani thought. She understood now why Alex kept people at a distance, not even making friendships at work: because he knew he had a fifty per cent chance of inheriting Huntington’s and didn’t want to be a potential burden to anyone. But at the same time he was missing out on so much. It would be years and years before he started showing symptoms, if he had them at all. Years and years of being isolated and alone. What kind of life was that?

‘I know you don’t want pity and I’m not dispensing that—but this new start isn’t helping, is it?’ she asked softly.

‘The job is. I love what I do.’ He sighed. ‘But the rest of it’s still going round my head. Especially now.’

‘Now?’ she prompted softly.

‘My mother left me a message on my answering machine last night. Stephen died the night before last.’

So any chance Alex might’ve had for closure with his father was gone for good. ‘How old was he?’

‘Fifty-seven. Twenty-two years older than I am right now. And, from what his partner told me, the last five years of his life were barely worth living. In the end he couldn’t do anything for himself—he couldn’t wash himself, he couldn’t feed himself, he couldn’t get out of a chair or walk without help. He needed total nursing care.’ He dragged in a breath. ‘That’s not living, Dani, it’s just existence.’

She reached over to squeeze his hand again. ‘It’s a tough thing to face. But it’s not necessarily going to happen to you, Alex. Yes, there’s a fifty per cent chance you’ve inherited Huntington’s, but there’s also a fifty per cent chance you haven’t.’

‘And the only way to know for sure is to take the test.’ He looked at her, unsmiling. ‘Which I don’t want to do.’

She didn’t think he was a coward. He had been brave enough to end his engagement and take the blame when he hadn’t been the one at fault. If he tested positive, she was pretty sure he’d be able to face up to the implications. ‘What’s stopping you?’ she asked, keeping her voice kind.

‘There doesn’t seem to be any point. If I’m positive, there’s nothing anyone can do about it. I can’t make any lifestyle changes or take any kind of treatment that would prevent me developing Huntington’s or even stave it off for a while. And if the test is positive, it’d crucify my mother—she’d blame herself, even though she couldn’t possibly have known that Stephen had Huntington’s when they conceived me.’ He sighed. ‘And I think that the guilt, the sheer pressure on her, would finally crack my parents’ marriage. I need to give them the chance to rebuild their relationship.’

‘Or maybe not knowing one way or the other is like having a sentence hanging over them and putting just as much pressure on them,’ she said. ‘What if the test is negative?’

‘I don’t know. If I’m honest about it,’ he said, his expression grim, ‘I think my parents would still be struggling. For all I know, they’ve been unhappy for years.’

‘You can’t be responsible for someone else’s relationship,’ she said gently.

‘I just feel so guilty,’ he said. ‘My father’s dead—and I don’t feel anything.’

‘I’d be more surprised,’ she said, ‘if you were utterly devastated by the death of someone you’d only met twice, who’d spent most of your life denying that you had anything to do with him, and who from the sound of it treated your mother quite badly.’

He looked at her. ‘You really tell it like it is, don’t you?’

She shrugged. ‘It’s who I am. Bossy.’

‘No, you’re honest. And you’ve put things into perspective for me. Thank you.’

‘You’re welcome.’ She squeezed his hand again. ‘And I want to remind you that what you’ve told me tonight will stay completely confidential.’

‘I appreciate that. You’re nice,’ he said. ‘Kind.’

‘Hmm. I’ve been told I’m too opinionated and I think I’m always right.’

He couldn’t help smiling. ‘Probably by someone who couldn’t organise their way out of a paper bag or make a decision.’

‘Oh, he made a decision, all right.’ The words came out before she could stop them.

‘Your ex?’ he guessed.

‘It’s not a pretty story. I’ll give you the short version.’ And the short version didn’t sting as much because she kept the emotion out of it. ‘He had an affair, I had absolutely no idea, she fell pregnant—and he left me for her on Christmas Eve last year.’

He winced. ‘That’s horrible timing.’

Yeah. She knew. And it was unbelievable how many songs were about being abandoned at Christmas. She’d stopped listening to music on the radio or streamed through her phone, because the songs just made her feel worse.

And what a Christmas gift. Hello, darling, I want a divorce.

Only a few months before that, she’d suggested trying for a baby. Leo had shut her down, and she’d tried to stem the longing. It had hurt so much to find out he was having the baby he’d refused her with someone else, and to realise that after all it wasn’t the baby he hadn’t wanted—it was her.