“Then we have nothing more to talk about,” she pushed herself to her feet, ignoring the hand he offered to help her. She suddenly realised that they were both naked and sighed heavily.
“Please, just go back to your room, Alessandro,” she pleaded and he hesitated, his eyes lingering on her face for a few long moments, before he turned abruptly and left.
She woke up in the guest bedroom the following morning… alone. She was both saddened and relieved by that. A quick glance at the clock told her that it was well after ten in the morning and the gloom told her that it was probably raining. Theresa was shocked that she had slept so late and rushed through her morning ablutions, while trying to ignore the ever-present queasiness. She gingerly made her way downstairs, feeling like someone with a hangover as she headed for the kitchen.
Fortunately there were no food smells emanating from the room but when she walked in, it was to find Sandro sitting at the breakfast bar and staring thoughtfully down at his full coffee mug. He looked up when she stepped into the room his eyes sweeping over her figure, taking in the worn old jeans, faded sweatshirt and battered little trainers.
“How are you feeling, ca… Theresa?”
“Fine,” she mumbled, getting herself a glass of orange juice before turning toward the breakfast bar and taking the seat opposite his on one of the quaint wooden chairs.
“Aren’t you going to eat anything?” He asked softly and Theresa grimaced, the thought of food making her stomach churn queasily.
“I’m fine.” He swore softly.
“You’re obviously not fine,” he growled. “I don’t know what you think starving yourself will achieve.”
“Oh for God’s sake, I’m hardly starving myself, just skipping breakfast.”
“You look like you’ve skipped entirely too many meals recently,” he shook his head and sent a scathing glare up and down her thin frame.
“If it’ll get you off my back, I’ll have some toast,” she seethed before slamming her glass down. She used too much force and must have placed it right on the edge because the glass went tumbling down to the floor and shattered on impact, spilling the bright contents all over the pale blue tile of the floor. The jarring noise completely unravelled Theresa and frayed her nerves to breaking point.
“Oh,” her eyes flooded with tears as she realised whose fault it had been. “I’m sorry…”
“Theresa,” Sandro was beside her in seconds, his hands on her shoulders and his face peering down into hers in concern. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” she whispered, shrugging out of his grip and he dropped his hands abruptly.
“Are you sure?” He demanded to know. “You’re as white as a sheet…”
“Just a bit of a shock,” she waved his concern aside. “It’s raining ,” she observed inanely, in a very weak attempt to change the subject and her eyes fixed on the dull greyness of the world outside.
“Yes,” he stepped further away from her and knelt down to pick up the shards of glass from the floor. “It is.” She started to get up but he looked up at her from where he was squatting at her feet and dropped a large hand on her thigh kept her from moving.
“The floor’s slippery and covered in glass; let me clear it up before you get off the chair.” She shrugged and silently watched as he efficiently went about cleaning up her mess.
“What are you doing today?” He asked casually, keeping his back to her as he discarded the glass and paper towels he had used to sop up the excess juice into the trash can.
“I need to do some shopping,” she answered distractedly. “I was thinking of heading to the city for some stuff…” she intended to buy about a dozen different home pregnancy kits, a task which she had delayed for much too long.
“I’m running low on some things too…” he responded carelessly, turning around to face her. “I’ll drive you.” Theresa came out of her daze with a wry smile.
“Wow. That was such a transparent lie that I’m almost embarrassed for you,” he chuckled wryly in response to her dry wit and shrugged slightly.
“I know it wasn’t up to scratch but give me a break, it’s been an eventful twenty-four hours and I’m not in top form,” he joked lightly even though his eyes were still sombrely engaged in running over her face and body in concern. “I don’t want you to drive, Theresa; you look a bit out of it. Do you think you’re coming down with something?”
Yes. Pregnancy.
“I’m fine but I do feel a bit out of sorts this morning, probably the whiskey in that Irish coffee I had with the ladies last night,” right, she’d barely made her way through a quarter of one mug before realising that, if she was pregnant, drinking would probably not be such a great idea. Still, Sandro didn’t know how much she’d had, so it was a perfectly acceptable excuse. He seemed to fall for it and nodded his acceptance of her explanation.
“When would you like to leave?” Theresa sighed softly; she really didn’t want him trailing after her while she tried to figure out a way to buy home pregnancy tests without him noticing. Sandro would never miss that.
“I really do have some stuff to take care of, Theresa,” he said seriously, seeming to read her mind. “I’ll leave you in relative peace.” She chewed on her lower lip thoughtfully, not missing how his eyes flared when her tongue darted out to soothe the sting of her teeth where she had accidentally bitten too hard.