She’d run into James twice more after he’d left that last time, and both times he’d been on his way up, to see Kylie or Kyriane or whatever her name was. She’d had to endure listening to the bedsprings from upstairs creak and wonder if it had been James up there every time. Not even the loudest heavy metal music could drown out the creaking of those springs, and besides, people had started banging on her walls when she’d turned it up really loud.
Luc burst into the room, took one look at her dishevelled state and the ruins of an apartment around her, and immediately took her into his arms. “Poor Emma,” Luc murmured consolingly. “You’re not feeling well at all, are you?”
Emma shook her head piteously.
“Come on then. I’ll make you a cup of tea and something to eat, and you can tell me all about it.” He led the way into the kitchen and she followed.
One mug of hot tea and a sandwich later, Luc was holding her hand while she sobbed her heart out.
“That’s it,” he was murmuring consolingly. “Just let it all out.”
“I don’t know what to do,” Emma was hiccupping. “I’ve thought and thought and I just don’t know! I mean… I have a job, and some savings, but when the baby’s born I’ll have to quit it, and then what will I do? I can’t afford not to have a job!”
“Maybe you should talk to James,” Luc suggested gently.
“Are you kidding? He doesn’t want anything to do with me. What would he care about a baby? He cares nothing for me.”
“Doesn’t he?” Luc smiled. “I know he’s been storming around like a bear with a sore head for the last couple of weeks. And I know why.”
Emma’s chin jutted out defiantly. “And even if he wanted anything to do with me, I don’t want anything to do with him. He – he’s shagging the whore upstairs!”
Luc burst out laughing. “Shagging, Emma?” he queried with brows raised. “Shagging?”
“Well, he’s sleeping with her,” she amended. “He went straight from me to her!”
“Yes, but how do you know he’s sleeping with her? They might just be friends, or business acquaintances or some such thing.”
“Her apartment is directly above mine,” Emma replied dryly. “I can hear the bedsprings creak. What do you suppose they’re doing? Simply playing ‘jumping castle’?”
“I suppose not,” Luc said ruefully. “In any case, you can’t keep living like this. You’ve got to get yourself together, Emma, if only for the baby’s sake. Come on, I’ll take you out to dinner, and you can get drunk one last time, and then we’ll come back and sleep on the floor one last time before I get the crew in and clean up. Deal?”
“I don’t get drunk,” Emma informed him indignantly. “And I’ve never slept on the floor in my life! Besides, won’t your wife object if you spend the night with me?”
“Well, might as well get it out of your system,” Luc replied pragmatically. “Better now than when the baby really starts to show. And my wife’s not my wife anymore. She did a runner on our honeymoon. By the way, have you been eating? You seem to be gaining weight.”
“Wonderful, Luc,” Emma said with mock sarcasm. “Thanks for telling me I’m getting fat. That’s sure to cheer me up.”
Luc shrugged. “Go freshen up, eh? Then we’ll go.”
* * *
They spent the night at a cheap bistro where she could eat as much as she want and drink as much as she want, without getting noticed, with the result that by the time Luc got round to taking her home she could barely stand without leaning on something.
They staggered into the elevator together, Emma laughing hysterically at something he’d said. “You know, Luc,” she giggled, her hand stroking her stomach. “I think I’ll survive after all.” The elevator doors opened. “I might actually look forward to having this baby.”
Emma stopped dead in her tracks, leaning heavily on Luc. Luc’s eyes widened and he said in a slightly singsong voice, “Uh-oh.”
“Hello, Emma,” said James, with a dangerous smile. “Did you enjoy yourself, children?”
“Goodbye, love,” Luc said with a hiccup. “Afraid you’ll have to sleep on the floor by yourself tonight. I’m not up to getting beat to a pulp. Not even for you.” So saying, he gave her a little push and she stumbled toward James, then lurched back into the elevator. The doors closed with a ping.
James caught her before she could bang into the wall. “Whoops,” she said cheerfully, leaning against him. “Must find the keys!”
“Give me your bag,” James said impatiently, then rifled through it quickly. He couldn’t seem to find the damn things. “Where are they?”
“Hmm,” Emma said thoughtfully. “Must be in my pocket somewhere.” She struggled, clumsily, to dig into the pockets of the tight fitting jeans to no avail.
“Here,” said James, exasperated. “Lean on me. Both hands.” She did as ordered, then stood stock still, shocked, as she felt his hands sliding into her front pockets. “Not here,” he announced grimly. “Turn a bit.” He slid his hands into her back pockets. She gave a little gasp, feeling his fingers curl and scoop out the keys. He didn’t seem to notice as he efficiently inserted the key into the lock and turned the doorknob.
Emma had sobered up by now, realising, perhaps, the seriousness of the situation. He knew – or at least, he knew that she was pregnant. He didn’t know by whom.
James flicked the switch and the kitchen lit up. He gazed, vaguely disgusted, at the mess of the kitchen. Dishes cluttered up the sink, the bench top. There was an opened, but untouched, bottle of wine on the table. “Sit,” he ordered, pulling out a chair for her. Emma sat.
“Now,” said James, remaining on his feet and looking down at him. “Care to tell me just what the hell Luc was doing here?”