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She couldn’t blame Dylan, she knew what he was like. She did, however, blame herself. She knew what a bad idea it would be for them to sleep together, however good it had felt. And it had felt very, very good. She shook her head, ridding it of the memories of the previous night as they threatened to replay through her mind. Which had been even better than the first time they’d slept together. She hated to think that was because of the depth of the feelings she at least now had for him. She had to focus and do the sensible thing. She never should have given in to her desires last night. She’d blame alcohol if she’d had any, but as it was, she only had her stupid hormones, and possibly the sugar in the icing on the cookies, to blame.

She sat up and put her head in her hands as she tried to work out what to do. What should she say to Dylan? Maybe she didn’t have to say anything. That had worked the last time they’d slept together. But they weren’t living together then, barely even saw each other really. That wasn’t an option now.

Would it be better if Dylan moved out? Maybe he’d want to rather than deal with the awkwardness between them every day. But she loved having him here. She’d got used to him being around. She never thought she’d say that . . .

She jumped as the bedroom door opened and Dylan came in. He was bare-chested and balancing a tray on one hand.

“Good morning,” he said, cheerfully. Lucy felt her heart sink as he came over and placed the tray on the bed next to her. He sat down on the edge of the bed. “How did you sleep?” he asked.

Lucy carefully pulled the duvet up further to cover herself, making sure she didn’t jog the tray of tea and Nutella toast. The toast actually looked amazing, and her stomach gave a little rumble. She ignored it. “I slept fine, I think.”

“Excellent,” said Dylan, picking up a piece of toast and taking a large bite. “And Poppy’s right, you do snore.”

“I do not!” Lucy replied indignantly.

“Just a little, it’s cute,” Dylan said with a shrug.

Lucy wanted to be out of this situation. It was so unbelievably awkward and she didn’t know what to say or do. It didn’t help that she was naked.

“Could you . . .” She signalled towards the door. “I don’t have any clothes on.”

“Lucy? I saw everything you have last night! I thought we could have breakfast together.”

She glared at him.

“Fine, fine,” he grumbled, picking up another piece of toast. “You should eat some of that before I finish it all.” He left, closing the door behind him.

Lucy looked at the remaining toast, which no longer seemed as appetising as it had. She sighed. She’d made a stupid mistake, again, and she had to speak to Dylan about it as soon as possible. She definitely needed to put clothes on first.

She pulled on some jeans, but found she couldn’t do them up. Great, another piece of clothing she could no longer wear. She really needed to go clothes shopping before she ran out of clothes completely. She could grab at least a few things when they went on their Christmas shopping trip. She put on a pair of black leggings instead, their stretchiness significantly more forgiving, and a hoodie. She sat on the bed and ate the remaining toast for a minute, trying to let her emotions, and her slight nausea, which she suspected was more to do with the current situation than pregnancy, subside. The sooner she spoke to Dylan the better. He obviously had the wrong idea. Eugh.

Finally, she sheepishly braved leaving the bedroom. She found Dylan in the kitchen. He was dressed ready for a run. Thank goodness he had a top on now. She would have struggled to say what she needed to even more if she could see his bare chest.

“There you are,” he said, moving towards her with a glint in his eyes. Lucy instinctively took a little step back and the light seemed to vanish from his gaze.

“Is everything all right?” he asked, looking her up and down. “Are you feeling OK?”

“Yes, I’m feeling fine.”

“Then what’s the matter?”

“Last night—”

“Was amazing?” Dylan suggested and Lucy couldn’t help a little twitch at the corner of her mouth. He was right, it had been amazing. He’d made her feel . . . beautiful, desired and like there was nowhere he’d rather be in the world. Which was exactly what had got her knocked up in the first place! And it didn’t matter. Whether or not she’d had a good time was not the point. Focus, Lucy, she told herself firmly.

“I had a really nice time yesterday,” she began.

Dylan lifted his eyebrows up comically.

“Let me say what I’m trying to,” Lucy said, crossly. This was hard enough without him being all cute while she was trying to do it. Not cute — annoying.

“I apologise,” said Dylan.

“As I was saying,” Lucy continued, feeling flustered, “yesterday was nice, but what happened last night—”

“Was even nicer,” Dylan interrupted quickly.

“Shouldn’t have happened,” Lucy said firmly. “Our priority has got to be our baby.”