Woman to Woman (20 page)

“How’s this?” he asked, sliding his hand down her belly until he was stroking the soft skin of her thighs, making her purr with pleasure. His fingers stroked the soft silk of her skin, gently roaming under the elastic of her silk panties to touch her softly, fingers tantalising and questing.

God she wanted him, she was ready for him, so ready. Who needed foreplay after a weekend apart?

“I’ve missed you, Richard,” she said, moving out from under him, straddling him and leaning down to kiss his lips gently.

She nuzzled his neck while one hand fumbled with his belt, trying to open it without looking.

When she turned to look, her breasts, heavy and ripe, swung low and his lips moved to catch a nipple in his mouth.

It was amazing, simply amazing what he could do to her. She felt sexier than ever before, as though being pregnant made everything make sense. Pregnant, she was utterly womanly and feminine, ripe and blooming, thanks to this man who was burning her skin with his touch.

“And I’ve missed you,” he groaned, his hands pulling her hips down hard onto his, grinding his hard body under hers.

“I

want you now, Jo.”

Quickly, he slid her panties off and ripped off his boxer shorts. Pulling her on top of him again, he slid inside her, feeling her soft, welcoming and wet.

“Oh, Jo,” he moaned, burying himself in her as deep as he could.

“That’s so good.”

It was, it was wonderful. She clung to him, sweat beading on her upper lip as he thrust into her, again and again. She wanted him so much, she was so excited. She was nearly there, nearly coming.

“Oh, Jo,” he shouted, job God!”

His body spasmed, as he thrust deep inside her before he collapsed on top of her body, breathing shallowly and quickly in post-orgasmic exhaustion.

Her own excitement dipped instantly, needing his friction to bring her to orgasm. Damn. As he lay on her heavily, she breathed more evenly and wrapped her arms around his body.

She wouldn’t come now, the moment had passed.

That was amazing, Jo,” he murmured.

Gently stroking his cheek, she felt a rush of emotions well up inside her. She loved him, but he was so selfish. Just because he was as horny as hell after a sex-free weekend didn’t mean he had to completely forget about her satisfaction and make love like a chauvinist pig. She’d been so turned on and she’d missed him so much, “she been crazy for him.

And he hadn’t cared that she hadn’t come.

Damn him! Richard never changed, did he?

He shifted beside her, reached one hand up and caressed her face.

“I love you, Jo, you know that?”

Of course, she melted. He’d always had the power to do that to her, to make her forget his behaviour with just a few words. It didn’t matter that she hadn’t come. They were together, together with their baby. That was all that mattered.

Her fingers smoothed his hair, moved down to massage his shoulders. His skin was damp with sweat.

Together they’d made a baby, a precious life. Yes, they’d had their fights and they’d argued bitterly a few days ago, but that was natural. People fought and argued. Now Richard had accepted their baby and he wanted to be with her. OK, so he hadn’t said it in so many words. But he meant it. He didn’t have to say it. She knew.

“Darling, I’m so tired,” Richard said sleepily. He slid one arm under his head like a pillow. That was great, I’m just so tired.

“Night.” he muttered.

She watched him, sexy, handsome and thoughtless. But he was her man, the father of her unborn baby. Maybe fatherhood would knock some of the thoughtlessness out of him.

Moving gently so she wouldn’t wake him, Jo untangled her limbs from his and climbed out of the bed, padding silently into the bathroom to wash her teeth. Almost too tired to take off her make-up, she forced herself to go through her usual beauty routine.

She splashed cleanser on her face, wiped away the grime of make-up and pollution with cotton wool, and brushed her teeth carefully. She quickly applied a film of moisturiser, then rubbed body lotion into her breasts, to keep pregnancy stretch marks at bay. That’d do.

She switched off the bathroom light and wandered into the sitting room and turned off the TV. Richard’s jacket and jeans were flung on the settee and the huge pizza box sat opened on the glass coffee table. Grease-marked kitchen paper and two crumpled sections of tinfoil lay on the ground. The smell of garlic bread permeated the air. She’d tidy it up in the morning.

The sun didn’t wake her, even when it shone in through a crack in the curtains at dawn, a shaft of light cutting through the dark of the bedroom like a floodlight. It was the morning sickness that did it, waking her up just after seven with bile rising in her throat. She knew she was going to be sick right now.

She got to the loo just in time, retching painfully as her sleepy body tried to come to terms with another bout of pregnancy nausea.

“Baby, how can you be doing this to me?” Jo groaned wretchedly, hanging over the toilet bowl for the nth morning in a row.

“Why can’t I be one of those lucky cows who don’t suffer from morning sickness?”

After ten minutes waiting to get worse, she began to feel marginally better. Thank God. Jo got up shakily and reached for the Bathroom Duck. What a stupid bloody name, she thought, squirting a blast of lemon goo around the rim of the toilet. Doesn’t look anything like a bloody duck.

Her mouth felt like the inside of a bin man wellie, she thought. That’s daft too. Who the hell knows what a bin man wellie tastes like?

She couldn’t face brushing her teeth so she stumbled into the kitchen and turned on the kettle. A cup of sweet tea would be the business. She was absolutely exhausted, bull there was nothing like a session of puking to make you totally!

and undeniably awake. I One empty wine bottle stood on the counter and she!

jammed it head-first into the bin. Bloody ironic to feel like!

she was incredibly hung-over every day when she hadn’t!

drunk mote than half a glass of wine since getting pregnant.

The other bottle stood on the coffee table. By rights!

Richard should have the most appalling hangover since he’d!

drunk most of the two bottles. But he’d probably be fine, all that training to be a sports photographer had made him immune to hangovers.

Sky News was chirpy and irritating. Jo watched it for half an hour and then decided to tidy up. What was the point in spending all morning groaning about being sick? Since she was up that early and since Richard would lie in bed for hours, she might as well take advantage of the fact and clean the flat.

It didn’t take long to bin the remains of the pizza, but it would take a bit longer to get rid of the smell of garlic bread left hardening overnight on the coffee table. When she’d dumped everything and put down carpet freshener for when she could hoover, she picked up Richard’s discarded clothes and folded them neatly.

His wallet lay on the hall table with the change from the pizza beside it. Jo smiled at the wallet, remembering buying it for him in Bloomingdale’s in New York.

It had been made by Gucci and was miles cheaper than it would have been in Dublin.

“So you’ll think of me whenever you open your wallet,” she’d joked at the time. It was an old Dublin gag they’d both known and laughed at how did you find your girlfriend? I opened my wallet and there she was. Jo put the change into the wallet and tried to slide it into the inside pocket of his jacket. It wouldn’t fit. Something bulky was blocking it. Puzzled, Jo pulled an envelope out of the pocket, smoothing it out to reveal a Ryanair travel folder.

Something clicked inside her head and she opened it quickly.

It couldn’t be, no way. It just couldn’t be.

The ticket was open-ended, executive class to London the following Monday morning. Jo stared at it for a moment.

London. He was still going to London.

Her mind sped back over the previous night’s events.

Richard had never said anything to make her think he’d changed his mind. She’d just assumed that he had, assumed that his very presence was proof that he’d acquiesced. That he wanted her and their baby. The flowers, the wine, everything.

But he hadn’t. What had he come for, a quick fuck? she thought bitterly. Why hadn’t he said anything? Because that would be too difficult, too confrontational, of course.

“I hate rows,” he claimed from time to time, usually when they were in the middle of one. He preferred to walk away from the argument, get into his car and drive off for the day.

Then he’d ring her the next day, say sorry and arrange dinner.

By then, Jo’s temper would have cooled and the fight would be shelved, if not forgotten.

Damn him, she wasn’t going to let him run away this time.

He wasn’t going to breeze back into her life for a few hours and just breeze out again. This was serious. She was pregnant and he was going to run away again? No way.

“Richard,” she said loudly, shaking his shoulder.

“Wakey, was key

He blinked tiredly, screwing up his eyes at the harsh sunlight streaming into the bedroom.

“What time is it?” he mumbled hoarsely.

Ten past eight,” she snapped. “Jesus, Jo, why did you wake me?” he groaned.

“I’m shattered.”

“You’re shattered?” she screeched.

“What about me? When were you going to tell me about London, Richard? When?

Were you going to ring from the airport? Or from your hotel in London?”

“Oh for God’s sake,” he muttered, turning away from her in the bed.

“It’s no big deal. I’m just going for a couple of weeks to see what it would be like working there. I’m not emigrating.”

“Not yet, maybe, but you will. Ireland’s too bloody boring for you, isn’t it, Richard?” she demanded.

“You want excitement, don’t you? The world would end if Richard Kennedy actually had to settle down for more than five minutes! All I want, to know is where I fit into all of this? Or have you forgotten that I’m carrying our baby?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Jo!” He sat up in the bed, raked his hair out of his eyes and looked at her warily.

“I haven’t forgotten. I just thought you might have given the subject some more thought. You know, what it’ll mean to your career or whatever, and maybe even changed your mind. We don’t have to do this now.”

Jo stared at him angrily. She couldn’t believe what he was saying. If she hadn’t wanted an abortion on Friday, she damn well wasn’t going to want one now.

Richard pushed the duvet back abruptly and got out of bed.

He strode into the bathroom and slammed the door behind him.

“I’m afraid we do have to do this now,” she shouted through the door.

“The baby isn’t going to go away, Richard, I’m still having it.”

The toilet flushed. Richard marched out of the bathroom, wiping his face on a towel. He didn’t speak.

“When you turned up last night, I thought you’d changed your mind,” Jo said fiercely.

“How can you do this to me? Is this your party piece, running away

from women when you get them pregnant? “It was as if she’d flicked a switch. His face changed in an instant, becoming dark like thunder. Jo had never seen him like this and she was stunned, afraid almost.

“I didn’t do anything he snarled.

“You wanted to trap me, didn’t you? Well it’s not going to work.”

Almost absently, Jo took her old pink flurry dressing-gown off the hook on the bedroom door and wrapped it around her.

It was sunny outside. The weather forecast on Sky had promised balmy weather, but Jo still felt cold. She stood beside the bed and stared blankly at the dressing-table mirror, not seeing her reflection at all.

He picked up his watch from the dressing table and strapped it onto his wrist. She followed him into the sitting room where he picked up his clothes and dressed silently, barely contained rage in every movement.

“Richard,” she said tentatively.

“We have to talk …”

“No, we don’t. You’ve made your bed, you lie on it,” he spat.

That did it.

“Don’t talk to me like that, you arrogant pig!” she yelled.

“We both did it, do you think I got pregnant on my own?” She faced him angrily.

“Yeah, well I don’t want it,” Richard said, venom in every syllable.

“I’m leaving.”

“You cant Jo said.

“How dare you talk to me like that, you’re all the same, bloody men terrified of commitment!”

“And you’re all the bloody same he answered harshly, ‘getting pregnant at the drop of a hat because it’s the only way to get a ring on your finger. Well it’s been tried before, sweetie, and I didn’t bite the bullet that time either!”

“What do you mean?” asked Jo, stunned.

He said nothing, just continued buttoning his jeans calmly.

Jesus, he couldn’t be saying what she thought he was saying.

“Beate. She got pregnant, didn’t she?”

“So?”

“Why did you never tell me?”

There was nothing to tell he said flatly.

“Did she have the baby?” Jo asked.

“What is this?” he demanded. Twenty fucking questions?” She hesitated at the anger in his voice.

“I just wanted to know.”

“Yes, all right? She had the baby and I have never seen it and she probably wouldn’t let me, even if I wanted to, which I don’t!” he slid his feet into his Italian suede slip-ons and picked up his jacket.

“Oh, Richard, why?”

“Look, just because you’ve always played happy families doesn’t mean that everyone else does, right? You don’t know what it’s like to have a father who couldn’t give a shit whether you lived or died, a father who’d kick you rather than say a kind word. I do,” he hissed.

“I know just what that’s like and I’ll tell you something, it turns you off the idea of having kids. I don’t want any fucking kids. I decided that a long time ago. That’s my choice. If you’re so fired up about a woman’s right to choose, why don’t you ever think about a man’s right to choose, eh?”

Jo said nothing, silent in the face of Richard’s fury and anger, an anger which had lived inside him for thirty-sever!