Having Nathan's Baby Read Online Free PDF Page A

crisp scent of the night air. It felt clean. I wanted to head out to the nearby lake and shake off the bad feeling from the journey. Nathan had been ominously quiet. I’d felt the tension in every precise gear change. At one point I’d thought I might actually start yelling at him, anything to shatter his stiff reserve.
    His boots crunched on the gravel as he rounded the car to the trunk. Keys jangled as he gestured towards me. “Go on in,” he said, and his voice was a low rumble. “I’ll get the bags.”
    I approached him cautiously and took the keys. Some of my optimism was quashed by his forbidding expression. As I had during the five hour-long journey, I remained quiet, deciding it was best not to inadvertently meddle with his emotions while they were so opaque. He had to be shocked. Nathan was only this silent when he was seriously upset about something. I forced myself to focus on the house instead; anything to take my mind off the charged connection between us.
    I turned and gave the surroundings a thorough study. There was what looked like a converted outbuilding to the right; perhaps a guest cottage? I could see a red barn far to the left, only just lit by the car headlights. As I took the steps to the front door, the ground crackled under my feet. The smoky scent of burnt leaves and moist earth enveloped me. Newly varnished wood joined the mix when I opened the front door and stepped into the dark foyer. Was that cinnamon I could smell, too? Whatever it was, it made the empty house seem incongruously lived in.
    Nathan pushed past me and dropped the bags on the floor. He switched the lights on. “I need a drink,” was all he said.
    I surveyed the hallway. A set of stairs led upstairs to the right. Two open rooms flanked the foyer, each with comfortable-looking seating areas. Nathan was already making his way through a set of swing doors to the back of the house. I followed him, my eyes soaking up the neutral decor. Given that the house had so much character outside, I was deflated to see how lacking it was inside. It had clearly been done with no expense spared, but it did nothing to enhance the charm of the building. I’d expected something rustic and homely. It was instead, elegant and cold.
    The swing doors opened in to a large, square kitchen. It was done mainly in white and granite, with the odd touches of chrome. Nathan was peering into a large refrigerator. “There’s beer,” he said. “Do you want one?”
    Beer? I glanced at him and felt a spurt of anger. A horrible sense of desolation chased it. Why was he bothering with this charade when I knew he had no intention of having a family? He’d never once given me any indication that it was on his wish list to have kids. I tossed my gaze towards the pitch black view. “I’ll just have tea,” I said simply.
    “Oh, yeah.” In his reflection, his brow puckered as he considered me. “I forgot.”
    Amazing … I wandered over to the counter where I spied a kettle. Lucky him, to be able to forget this for a blessed few minutes. My footsteps echoed against the stark decor. Everything was brand new and gleamed proudly, and I felt unreasonably irritated by this.
    Nathan shut the fridge door. I heard him pop the lid off a bottle of beer and fold himself into one of the chairs at the island in the centre of the room. He took a sip, watched me for a moment. “How are you feeling?”
    “Okay.”
    “How-” He searched for words. “How pregnant are you?” he asked eventually.
    My shoulders tightened as a long, shaky breath gripped me involuntarily. I considered a glib remark but dismissed it, my humor tank empty. “Nine weeks,” I said. “Ten, now.”
    “Right.” He frowned. “Of course ... the charity thing.” I heard him tapping the bottle while I busied myself with filling the kettle and switching it on. “When did you find out?” he asked.
    I searched for mugs, pulling open perfectly ordered cupboards. My mind was like a pile of raked