Page 50 of Heart of The Night

The woman turned then, and the illusion shattered. She wasn’t Cara. But the spectre of the future I had conjured refused to dissipate, driving my nausea to new heights. My meal threatened a violent return, the pressure in my gut an unbearable torment.

Overwhelmed, I abruptly pushed back my chair and excused myself from the table, weaving my way through the maze of guests toward the gents. I could taste the acidic burn of bile creeping up my throat. Stumbling into the toilet, I lunged toward the nearest cubicle. My lunch made a swift and merciless reappearance, splashing violently into the toilet bowl. The retching shook me to my core, my body convulsing as wave after wave of nausea swept over me. Just when I thought I had managed to suppress the worst of it, another brutal surge of sickness overcame me, swallowing me in its pitiless tide.

‘Bloody hell, Will!’ Andy suddenly exclaimed from behind me. ‘Are you all right?’

I pulled back from the toilet, managing a glance at him over my shoulder, my face contorting into a grimace. ‘I’ve fucked up, Andy. Really, truly fucked up.’

‘What? How?’ he asked, his tone steeped in concern.

I shook my head, his question triggering another bout of nausea. I lurched back over the toilet, letting loose another torrent of vomit.

‘Will, you’re worrying me, man,’ Andy pressed. ‘Talk to me. What’s happened?’

I shook my head once more, retching and heaving, but nothing would come. Andy fell silent, his presence felt more than heard, as I struggled to regain control of my breathing.

‘Will, whatever it is, we’ll find some way to fix it.’

A bitter laugh broke free from my lips, my gaze flicking over his earnest expression. ‘Fix it?’ My tone bordered on a sob. ‘This can’t be fixed, Andy.’

He tilted his head slightly, his eyes reflecting a peculiar blend of stubborn optimism and fear. ‘There must be some way—’

‘Francesca’s pregnant,’ I cut him off, refusing to entertain any false hope. ‘She thinks it’s mine.’

His lips parted, his eyes expanding into spheres of disbelief. Time seemed to distort, elongating the fleeting seconds into a torturous eternity as shock spread across his face.

‘Fucking hell, Will. Are you serious?’

I managed a weak nod, drawing in a shaky breath. Panic clawed at the remnants of my composure, threatening to dismantle me completely.

Andy kept staring at me, his mouth opening and closing in a desperate search for words, until he finally stammered, ‘How far along is she?’

‘Ten weeks.’ I reached over to flush the toilet. ‘The timeline checks out.’

‘Didn’t you use protection?’

I returned his gaze with a piercing glare. ‘Of course I did. But, as we all know, condoms offer no guarantee, do they?’

Andy’s complexion had turned a sickly shade. ‘Does she plan to keep it?’

‘Yes.’

‘Christ, Will. I… I can’t even imagine.’

I cleared my throat, cautiously testing whether my nausea had truly subsided.

‘What are you going to do?’ Andy asked.

‘I asked her for a paternity test,’ I replied, bracing myself against the wall as I climbed up on unsteady legs.

‘And what was her response?’

‘She agreed.’ I moved past him toward the basins. ‘As long as I foot the bill.’ His reflection watched me in the mirror as I scrubbed my hands, but I averted my eyes.

‘Then how soon can you get one? Do you have to wait till the child is born?’

‘No, there’s a non-invasive procedure that can be done as early as seven weeks into the pregnancy. But she’s currently overseas for work, so it’ll have to wait till she returns.’

‘And when’s that?’ he asked as I rinsed my mouth and splashed water onto my face.

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