shook her head. ‘It was Miss Shields, my primary school teacher. She used to read a few pages to us just before we went home. And she took me off the official school reading scheme and lent me books that I enjoyed a lot more.’
He should’ve guessed it hadn’t been her parents to encourage her love of reading. She’d told him once that she was the first person in her family to stay on for A-levels, let alone think about going to university.
‘How about you? Did your parents read to you?’ she asked.
‘I had a story every night.’ From his nanny. His parents had been busy at work; they hadn’t had the time to read to him.
‘And you read to your own children?’
‘I don’t have children.’ Except the one he hadn’t known about—the one who hadn’t even been born. He knew he shouldn’t ask, because he really didn’t want to hear the answer, but he couldn’t help the question. ‘You were pretty good at that. I assume you read to yours?’
For just a second, he could’ve sworn that she flinched. And she turned away as she said, ‘I read to my godchildren. Meggie’s two.’
So she still didn’t have children. Then again, pregnancy would make her face up to what she’d done when she was eighteen. And he was beginning to think that maybe Alexandra was a bit less hard-boiled than he’d believed her to be. How did she feel about the prospect of starting a new family, knowing that she’d deliberately chosen not to have a family before?
‘Excuse me. I’m sure you’re busy and I need to get some things sorted here. Thanks for your help in stacking the chairs.’ And then she fled.
Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.
