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I should ignore it. Tell him without having to say the words that things aren’t all right, that I regret what we’ve done. But I can’t. It’s pathetic and needy, but I want him on my side. I don’t want him to stop looking at me as if he wants to undress me with his eyes. I want his support, his affection. It’s dog in the manger, and I hate myself for it, but I can’t ignore the cube any more than fly.
Swallowing hard, I pick it up and begin turning the sides, muddling up the colored cubes. I hear his soft sigh, and I know he understands. I can smell his cologne, and almost feel his body warmth. Only hours ago, he was kissing me, and he was inside me, telling me he’s in love with me.
Oh God, what am I going to do?
Chapter Nine
Henry
Christ, what on earth happened when Juliette got home this morning? She’s scraped all that magnificent hair up into a tiny, tight bun—I have no idea how she’s managed that—and she’s wearing black leggings and a white top that clings to her figure, revealing that she’s definitely lost weight over the past few months. The top has a collar she’s turned up, presumably to hide the hickey I gave her. She looks pale and thoroughly miserable. I can’t help but feel relieved that it probably means all isn’t rosy between her and Cam, but I feel bad that I might be the cause of some of her unhappiness.
James and Tyson are talking, but Alex is watching her as she turns the sides of the cube. He looks at me then, and frowns.
Feeling like a naughty schoolboy, I study my laptop, pretending to find whatever article I was reading fascinating.
“Do you think it’s worth us actually taking one of the patients to Sydney?” Tyson asks. “Juliette, what do you think?”
She’s silent, and we all look at her to find her lost in thought, still turning the Rubik’s Cube.
When I first came into the boardroom this morning, James was making himself a coffee. He looked fed up, and when he’d finished stirring his drink, he tossed the spoon onto the table with a clatter that illustrated his frustration before he saw me.
“How are you doing?” he asked me.
“As well as you, by the look of it,” I replied.
“Yeah,” he said. That was the extent of our conversation, but it was enough to tell me that last night with Aroha hadn’t gone as planned, either.
Now, he glances at Alex, who’s tapping on the table with his pen, then back at me, grimacing as he silently acknowledges our shared culpability.
Tyson clears his throat. “Juliette?”
Her head snaps up. “Oh. Sorry?”
“I was just wondering if it was worth taking one of your patients to Sydney for the conference? First-hand experience, you know?”
“Oh, um, maybe. Although a series of case studies might be less trouble.”
“Yeah, true.”
She finishes turning the cube and slides it across to me. I glance at her hand, with its long, slender fingers, remembering how they slipped beneath my Henley and splayed on my back, exploring my muscles as I kissed her. She meets my gaze, and we stare at each other for about ten seconds as my heart rate slowly climbs.
Then she lowers her eyes. Sighing inwardly, I pick up the cube and start doing it again.
Alex begins going through what’s happening today, and I try to listen, but it’s impossible to concentrate with Juliette beside me, silent and obviously unhappy. It doesn’t help matters when a text pings up on my phone from Rangi.
I pick it up and glance at it. It just says two words. She’s pregnant.
I sigh, and only realize it was audible when James says, “What’s up?”
“I saw my nephew this morning. He told me he thought his girlfriend was pregnant. I bought him a test, and he’s just texted to say it was positive.”
They all groan, and Juliette says, “Oh no.”
“How old is he again?” James asks.
“They’re both sixteen.”
“Silly fucker,” Tyson says.
