…He's still not home by nine. I am sitting at my desk in the library, wondering where he is. I call him.
"Ana," he says, his voice cool.
He inhales softly. "Hi," he says, his voice lower.
"Are you coming home?"
"Are you in the office?"
"Yes. Where did you expect me to be?"
With her. "I'll let you go."
We both hang on the line, the silence stretching and tightening between us.
"Goodnight, Ana," he says eventually.
He hangs up.
Oh shit. I gaze at my BlackBerry. I don't know what he expects me to do. I'm not going to let him walk all over me. Yes, he's mad, fair enough. I'm mad. But we are where we are. I haven't run off loose-lipped to my ex-paedo lover. I want him to acknowledge that that is not an acceptable way to behave. I sit back in my chair, gazing at the billiard table in the library, and recall fun times playing snooker. I place my hand on my belly. Maybe it's just too early. Maybe this is not meant to be . . . And even as I think that, my subconscious is
screaming no! If I terminate this pregnancy, I will never forgive myself—or Christian. "Oh, Blip, what have you done to us?"
Is that what he wants? Is he hoping that I terminate our little Blip? Will he ask this of me? Would I do it for him? My subconscious looks up from her baby book telling me that I already know the answer to that question. Christian was right…I would choose Blip over him.
But I know Christian…what Christian wants, Christian gets. He would never force me to terminate our child but would he forgive me for keeping our child? Just telling him that I was pregnant sent him running back to her, what will he do when our little Blip actually arrives? Holding my head in my hands, silent tears start to run tracks down my face. My inner goddess is pacing up and down refusing to believe the truth, while my subconscious is packing her suitcase.
This is what I have to do for Blip and for Christian. This is where it ends.