heart defects, of varying seriousness.’
‘But you think it’s a more serious one?’ Allegra whispered, and Dr Stein gave her an unhappy look.
‘I’m afraid that, yes, it’s looking like that, but we won’t know until we get the results of the amniocentesis. It’s difficult to diagnose this kind of condition from only a scan.’
Allegra walked home in a fog, barely aware of the steps that took her up to her sixth-floor studio. Anton poked his head out of his apartment to ask how she was, and Allegra didn’t even know what she said. The world felt muted, as if everything was taking place far away, to other people. Nothing mattered. Nothing at all mattered any more.
She lay on her bed, one hand pressed against her middle. Already, she’d barely been coping, stumbling through each day, trying to survive the awful morning sickness that had exhausted her so utterly. She hadn’t let herself think too much about the future, and now it looked like there might not be one. How was she going to wait three long weeks to find out?
And through the haze of her grief and fear, one fact kept coming back to torment her. She should have told Rafael. No matter how he had treated her, he should know she was pregnant with his child. He should be aware of what was happening.
Still she resisted. She didn’t want to give him a chance to reject her all over again, along with their baby. She didn’t want to face his accusations and anger, as he no doubt would be furious that she hadn’t told him she was pregnant. She especially didn’t want to open herself up to hurt.
Since Rome, she’d done her best to push all thoughts of Rafael out of her mind. She’d told herself there was still time to tell him about the baby, if she ended up deciding that was the best thing to do, which she wasn’t at all sure it was. She just needed to feel better first, to find her feet. When she felt stronger, she could think about whether she wanted Rafael involved, even if everything in her had shied away from it.
But now? Now everything had sped up and become urgent. She had to make hard decisions, agonising choices. And Rafael deserved to be a part of that process, even if she dreaded talking to him again.
* * *
Allegra battled the possibilities in her mind as the date of her amniocentesis came closer. Finally, two days before the scheduled procedure, she took out the crisp white business card Rafael had handed her outside the lawyer’s office. With trembling fingers she dialled the mobile number printed starkly on the card.
He answered after two rings. ‘Yes?’
‘It’s Allegra.’ Her voice was a thready whisper, and she straightened, determined to be strong. The silence on the end of the line stretched on for several seconds.
‘Yes?’ Rafael finally said again, his voice tense, guarded.
Allegra took a deep breath. ‘I’m calling because something has happened.’ Rafael didn’t say anything and she forced herself to continue. ‘I’m pregnant and—’
‘You’re pregnant?’ His breath hissed sharply between his teeth. ‘By me?’
‘Yes, of course by you—’
‘Then why are you telling me now? You must be halfway through your pregnancy.’
‘Almost,’ Allegra agreed.
‘Then why—?’
‘Rafael, please, just listen. I’m pregnant and I had an ultrasound and it looks like there is something wrong with the baby. Something serious.’ Her voice caught and she dashed at her eyes with her hand. She couldn’t break down now. She had to stay strong. The last person to look for comfort from was Rafael.
Rafael remained silent for a few taut seconds. ‘What kind of thing are you talking about?’ he finally asked.
‘A congenital heart defect.’ Allegra drew a ragged breath. ‘I’m having an amniocentesis in two days’ time to determine—’
‘In New York?’
‘Yes.’
‘I’ll be there.’
Shock had her mouth dropping open. ‘Be there? But—’
‘Of course I’ll be there,’ Rafael said roughly. ‘This is my child. Isn’t it?’
‘Of course it is.’
‘Then I’ll be there. I’ll call again tomorrow to confirm the details.’
Allegra wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting Rafael’s response to be, but that wasn’t it. As she hung up the phone she battled between trepidation at seeing him again and a treacherous relief that someone was going to walk through this with her. She was used to being alone, preferred it, but she didn’t want to be alone in this.
And yet Rafael? She was, Allegra knew, going to have to be careful. With her baby, and with her heart.
* * *
Rafael drummed his fingers against the armrest as the limo cut smoothly through Manhattan’s midtown traffic, heading towards Allegra’s flat in the East Village. The shock and fury he’d felt that she’d hidden her pregnancy from him for so long had been replaced by a far greater fear for the health of their unborn child. He was going to have a child. Someone to protect and provide for, cherish and guard with his life. A life he would treasure, if he ever got the chance.
Rafael had never believed in the idea of atonement, and yet he thought of it now. Perhaps the sins of the past could be righted by this future...his child’s future. Perhaps he would finally find the peace and satisfaction he craved, through the life of this innocent.
He’d deal with Allegra’s wilful deception later; right now they needed to get through the current crisis...whatever happened. He’d let down those who’d depended on him before and he wouldn’t do it again. He would not fail his child.
The limo pulled up in front of a tall brick building. Rafael’s mouth thinned as he stepped out of the limo and scanned the names by the buzzers. His eyes narrowed as he saw that Allegra was on the sixth floor, and the building had no lift. She was walking up and down six flights of stairs every day? Surely that could not be good for her or their child.
He pressed the buzzer and her voice, sounding tired and wavering, came through the intercom.
‘I’ll be right down.’
Tense with anxiety, he shoved his hands in the pockets of his trousers and scanned the building again. It looked run-down and dangerous, a drift of takeaway menus littering the front step, the bins outside overflowing. This was no place for the mother of his child to live.
Moments later Allegra appeared in the doorway. As she opened the door, Rafael tried to hide his shock. She looked terrible—her face was pasty and pale, her hair lifeless and dull, and she’d lost far too much weight. The T-shirt and light trousers she wore for a humid summer’s day in the city hung on her like rags on a scarecrow.
Rafael stepped forward to take her arm. She recoiled slightly at his touch, but he held her arm anyway. ‘You look as if a breath of wind might blow you away.’
‘I’ve
