moment Javier came into the dining room.
Marsela hurried out.
He took a seat at the table and swiped at his phone. ‘You are too familiar with the staff,’ he said, not looking at her.
‘Am I?’
‘Yes.’
She sat opposite him and put Frodo down at her feet. ‘Marsela’s my age. I like her. If I want to be friends with her then I shall.’
His jaw clenched but he said nothing further.
Breakfast was brought in and placed between them.
‘I was thinking of taking Frodo for a walk in the park later. Do you want to come?’
‘I’m going to the office.’
She tried to cover her disappointment. ‘On a Saturday?’
‘I have much to organise before my trip to Cape Town.’
‘That’s not for another week,’ she pointed out.
‘I’m looking to bring it forward.’
‘Any reason?’
‘To get things moving quicker.’
‘We’ve got the scan on Wednesday,’ she reminded him. He hadn’t promised he would be there, only promised that he would try. She had wanted to push it but had held back.
If this had been a conversation held an hour ago she would have pushed it, secure in the cocoon of passion they had created together.
‘If I can come then I will come,’ he answered shortly.
She was bewildered at the change in him.
The cold, emotionless man was back with a vengeance.
He drank his coffee and got to his feet.
‘You’re going to the office now?’
‘Yes. I’ll let you know if I’m not going to make it back for dinner.’
Stunned and hurt at the indifference being displayed, she watched him walk out before suddenly calling out to him. ‘Javier.’
‘What?’
She almost recoiled to see the coldness in his eyes.
‘Last night...’ But she couldn’t say anything more. Her throat had closed up.
‘What about it?’
She shook her head. ‘Nothing.’
He left without saying goodbye.
* * *
Sophie was grateful to have Frodo as a distraction. Although still small, he was unrecognisable as the damaged puppy she had found on the kerb. Playful and loving, he had a marvellous time playing in the park with the other dogs and Sophie soon found other owners to talk with. For the first time, a complete stranger asked her if she was pregnant.
The thickening around her waist was turning into a small but recognisable swell, more pronounced on her petite frame than it would otherwise be. She was barely halfway through the pregnancy. There was still a long way to go.
But she had experienced flutterings in recent weeks, real, unmistakable signs that the baby inside her was growing strongly, that it was a baby in there.
On the short walk back to the house, she bought a newspaper from a vendor she passed. Javier would laugh at her for absorbing the news the old-fashioned way but she much preferred to read it in paper format than through a screen.
Reading the paper would be another good distraction. She no longer had to avoid the news, the Javier-Freya-Benjamin saga relegated to history.
Except it wasn’t.
Her insides twisted with pain for her husband.
Page nine contained a half-page story on the marriage of Luis Casillas and Chloe Guillem.
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