I’d forgotten what it’s like to be around a gentleman. And I don’t remember this side of Henry when I had my legs wrapped around him in the elevator that night. But he gestures for me to go first into the elevator and we stand facing the door, about three feet apart. Definitely shy. Definitely nervous, both of us.

As we leave the building, he holds the door open for me to walk ahead of him. After working at Croft Media and being treated lower than dirt, it’s refreshing.

I step outside into the humid air and breathe deeply. “The weather here is a lot warmer than I’d have expected for this time of year.”

“Well,” he says, “we usually have a heat wave right about now. It’s not until October when we really have our autumn, but winters are usually mild. Very wet. But you won’t freeze.”

“Is it like that in Australia?”

“Well, it’s winter in Oz right now,” he says with a laugh. He smiles, thinking about his adopted country. I wonder if he’s missed it while he’s been stuck here.

“Oh, right,” I say, deflated.

“I still owe you that trip, don’t I?” he asks, his voice rough. Then, as it to make that space between my legs any hotter, he adds, “My lady.”

I suck in a deep breath, trying not to show how much his words have affected me. “Do you know of a good place to get some coffee?”

“Yeah, it’s just a short walk from here. Let me just tell my driver to wait.”

I didn’t realize he’d have someone waiting on him. “Oh, they don’t have to wait!”

He shrugs. “It’s his job to wait.” He stops short and a panicked look comes across his eyes. “No, I don’t mean I’m disrespecting his job or anything. I mean, it’s all the same to him whether he’s driving me or—”

“It’s fine, Henry.”

He opens his mouth to say more, but then shuts it with an audible snap. He takes his phone out of his pocket and calls a number. I stand there idly, not wanting to look at him or watch him. But I don’t know what else to do.

“Yep,” he says, glancing at me. “Only if that’s all right with you,” he adds carefully. I nearly laugh out loud at the confused voice I hear on the end. He hangs up and gives me a smile. “He’s fine with it.”

I smile. “Good, I’m glad.”

He watches me for a moment more before he nods with his head to our right. “It’s just a block this way.”

“Are you okay to walk that far?”

He stops, a pained expression crossing his features for the briefest moment before it’s masked by a smile. “Of course, I’m fine.”

My heart breaks that I asked and caused him turmoil.

The café is a small, family-owned place that’s famous for their antique teapots and spoons. The owner immediately recognizes Henry and with a jovial wave, he seats us at a street-side table.

“Your Highness, it is so good to see you!” he says, paying all his attention to Henry. “What can I get you and the lady?”

Henry glances to me, waiting for my answer first. I falter—should I get coffee? I don’t remember drinking coffee that morning, but if they’re telling expectant mothers to limit their intake, then maybe I should avoid coffee altogether. Should I get some tea then? What kind of tea is okay for a pregnant woman to drink? Or should I just get something else?

“I’ll have a mint tea,” I say, settling on the first non-black tea that comes to mind.

The owner nods curtly and looks to Henry. “I’ll have a flat white,” he says easily. At the owner’s blank look, he adds, “A triple short no-foam latte. It’s a popular coffee in Australia.” He winks at me.

“Right away, your Highness,” the owner says, scurrying back to his café.

The smell of something wonderful hits me, like a cinnamon bun or almond croissant, and my mouth immediately waters with the craving. Maybe with some peanut butter and ice cream… It shocks me momentarily, just how strong my compulsion is for that combination.

I guess I’m going to get some cravings while I’m pregnant.

“How has your second holiday to Dubreva been?” Henry asks by way of conversation. He crosses his arms as he looks at me. “Been enough to convince you to take that job Jessica’s offering you?”

I shrug. “It’s only my second day here.”

He raises an eyebrow. “But?”

“But it’s absolutely wonderful,” I say with a dreamy sigh. “And I’d be a fool not to take Jessica up on her offer. My job since she left has been, well…”

“Awful?”

“More like the servant you thought I was,” I finish wryly. “My boss expects me to bring him coffee, run the copy machine and work late hours at his beck and call. Working for Jessica had a bit of that, but…” I bite my lip, thinking. “It’s just not the same.”

Henry nods slowly, listening to me speak, and then he leans forward. “Listen, Cat, about what I said that morning.”

“You don’t have to apologize.”

“But I do,” he says. “I was a right arsehole to you that morning, and while I didn’t think anything of it at the time, I…” His voice trails off.

“It’s all right,” I say.

“No, it’s not.”

“Trust me, it is.”

He snickers and averts his eyes. “You stormed out of my room and flicked me off as you stood in the elevator.” My cheeks burned. “While you can forgive me now, it still bothered you and pissed you off. And I’ve had a lot of time to think since then and been humbled myself, and…”

“Here are your drinks!” the owner says cheerily as he sets down our drinks. Henry has a small cup of coffee with a white creamy top, while I have an old antique teapot and an empty teacup.

“Thanks, Jacques,” Henry says, nodding to the owner. The flustered man backs the rest of the way to the restaurant.

I suck in a deep breath and reach to pour the drink. My hands are shaking with the inevitable conversation we’re about to have, so I’m doing anything to busy myself. As I pour myself a drink, I immediately regret choosing mint as the smell wafts up to me. It smells like bad toothpaste, and I feel my stomach roil at it.

“What did you want to talk about?” Henry asks, watching me.

Here it is. The big moment. The point in time I’ve been dreading ever since I saw those two pink lines. I have no idea how he’s going to react. Maybe I should have done this in a more private space. At least here, he can’t have a major blow up or something.

Not that I expect he’ll do anything of the sort, but I have to wonder if being a father has ever crossed his mind.

I close my eyes for a moment and steady myself.

“I’m pregnant.”

I open my eyes and see him watching me with a confused expression. Something like hurt lurks behind his eyes, but it’s quickly covered up. “Congratulations?”

Completely unlike what I expected, then I realize that he hasn’t connected the dots. “It’s yours.”

Another confused blink, this time slower, and he says, “Are you—? Are you sure?”

I look at him incredulously. And now I’m glad we’re in a public area because I would have screamed and throttled him if there hadn’t been a table between us.

“Yeah. I’m sure.”

“There’s no one else’s it could be?”

My heart pounds in my chest as adrenaline hits me at his continued look of disbelief. Contrary to what he believes, I don’t fall into bed with every good-looking man I meet. Yeah, I did with him that night, but that’s a rare occasion for me.

“You’re the only person I’ve had sex with this entire time! I’m one hundred percent sure it’s yours.”

“I thought you said you were on birth control.”

“I was.”

Again, he doesn’t catch onto how pissed off I’m getting. “You’re sure you’re pregnant? Like, positive?”

My hands tremble as I grab my purse, tears stinging my eyes at the rejection. “Yes. That’s why I was at the hospital. I was talking to a doctor about what would happen if I were to move here.”

“And this isn’t some sort of joke?”

There’s still no answer from him, only questions, which enrages me even more. “You know what?” I say through gritted teeth as I rise to my feet. “Fuck you for not believing me. I thought maybe you had changed and could handle this. The reason I told you is because I believe you deserve to know. But…stop being such an asshole!”

Yes, that is a bigger scene than I had wanted. But I turn into a watery mess of tears and I turn to leave. To go where, I don’t know. Just away from him. My whole life has been ruined anyways. I don’t want him in the baby’s life if it comes to this.

“Cat, wait,” he calls after me, and he catches my wrist as I take a step to leave. “Wait. I’m sorry.”

I furiously wipe at my tears and I can see him better again. He looks remorseful. Shaken. Probably how a man would look if his ex-one-night-stand suddenly told him she was pregnant with his baby.

“This is just…such a shock for me… Out of everything I thought could happen with this cup of coffee, you telling that you’re pregnant is that last thing I thought it would be.”

“Join the club,” I growl.

“Please sit down so we can talk about this,” he says. When I don’t budge, he presses one more time. “Please, Cat?”

I sigh shakily and take my seat again. He watches me, like I’m about to combust at any moment—which I guess is probably the case.

I sit with my arms crossed, looking away from him, refusing to speak. He’s the one that has to break the silence, and his voice is strangely neutral as he does so.

“How far along are you?”

“Almost nine weeks.”

I see him do the math in his mind, counting backwards to confirm that’s when I would have conceived. He pales, coming to the same number I did.

“And what are you going to do?” he asks carefully.

“About?”

“About the baby?”

I chew the inside of my cheek as I contemplate telling him the truth or shrugging it off and giving him time to process it some more. But I don’t want him to say anything that would upset me, so I tell him my plan.

“I want to keep it.”

He thinks on that for a moment before sighing and sitting back, passing a hand over his face, thinking about the implications of my statement.

“You don’t have to help me raise it. And I don’t expect child support from you or anything,” I blurt out. “I mean, I know what it looks like—or could look like, but I don’t want anything—”

“No, I’m not going to be an absent father,” he says softly. He blows out another breath. “This is just a lot for me to take in right now. Eight weeks ago, I was fighting for my life—”

“I know,” I whisper, feeling the twist in my chest at the memory of him being hooked up to all those machines. I’d sat outside his hospital room, watching with wide eyes, praying that he’d make it. Believing that he didn’t want anything to do with me while I grieved over him. And now…

He shakes his head. “Now, I find out that I’m going to be a father.” He scoffs lightly and gestures to his cane. “I mean, right now, I couldn’t even play with a kid or anything.”

“You don’t—”

“Stop saying that,” he growls, glaring at me. “I am going to be there for the baby, so stop cutting me off. And you want me there as well, or else you wouldn’t have told me.”

“I told you because you deserve to know.”

He thinks for a moment and gives me a hard nod. “Thank you. In that case.”

“You’re welcome?”

This isn’t what I wanted. This standoff between us, this growing rift. I want to pull him back to being the Henry that adorably freaked out earlier when he thought he insulted me by talking about his driver. I want him to be fun and carefree like he was at the banquet dinner. The reason why I slept with him that night.

The breeze that blows makes me shiver, reminding me that that was a different time. And we’re at a different point now.

“What are you thinking, Henry?”

He sighs and combs a hand through his hair. “I have to process this,” he says softly. “This is a lot to take in.”

“I know.”

“I just need to…wow.”

I nod, feeling strange that we’re at this impasse.

He pauses, watching me. “How long are you in Dubreva? If you don’t take the job?”

I lick my lips. “Through Sunday.”

His nostrils flare, and he takes out his wallet, pulling out some bills and throwing them on the table. I notice that he is either leaving a considerable tip or we just had the most expensive drinks in the world.

Or he just doesn’t care. No wonder Jacques likes him so much.

He offers me a forced smile. “I’ll call my driver now. We’ll drop you off at your hotel. Where are you staying?”

“The Palais Dubrevs.”

He nods as if in understanding. “Of course.”

He calls his driver again, telling him where to pick us up, and I’m glad for the distraction. I cross my arms, and look anywhere but at him. I hear his breath catch as he gets off the phone and I give a curious glance at him.

He’s just watching me now, his expression unreadable.

“Look, I’m not expecting anything,” I say.

“I know,” he murmurs. “But I’d be an even bigger arsehole if I don’t help in some way.”

That doesn’t make me feel any better, and I’m silent until the limo shows up. I sit as far away from him as possible in the back seat, looking out the window, trying to think of anything but him.

I thought I was prepared for this. Apparently, I’m not.

It hurts. My heart is breaking and I don’t know why. What was I expecting then? Him to be like, “I want to be this baby’s father and I want to marry you and we’ll all live happily ever after?”

Of course not. I know I had more realistic expectations than that. But still…I just needed some more compassion.

We pull up to the hotel, and the doorman opens my door and I get out of the car. Henry leans my way.

“Cat—” he starts.

I shut the door with my hip, cutting him off. The doorman gives me a surprised expression but I ignore him as I climb the red-carpeted steps to the hotel. And when I get back to my hotel room, I lay in my big bed, alone.

And I cry.