Australia: Bundles of Joy

He didn’t budge. ‘Are you sure this is about work?’

She had to meet his gaze, if only to convince him that she needed to be left alone before she burst into tears. ‘Of course.’

His direct gaze bored into hers, as if trying to see into the windows of her soul and read the secrets there. For now, she sure hoped the shutters were down.

‘I’ll leave you to it, then. Call me when you have a minute?’

She nodded and faked a breezy wave as she focused on the screen again, hoping he’d been fooled.

By the dubious look he cast her on the way out, she doubted it.

Lachlan slipped the headphones off and leaned back, grateful for the four-minute break a song from some boy band offered. He needed time to think and hadn’t had much opportunity lately, what with the new TV show, the publicity demands and continuing with his radio talkback show, which had reached the number one ratings spot over the last few weeks.

Professionally, he had the world at his feet. Then why did he feel like a tightrope walker teetering on the brink of a big fall?

He rubbed his eyes and took a sip of the disgusting brew the station labelled coffee, knowing exactly why he felt so out of control these days.

Keely.

He’d thought he’d been dating the woman of his dreams. So how had their relationship turned into a nightmare?

Ever since their weekend in Hepburn Springs, which had been incredible, she’d withdrawn from him slowly but surely. Back then, she’d reciprocated his passion and they’d connected on many levels, so what had gone wrong?

She’d cited work pressures as being the cause of their sporadic contact, but he knew better. The secrets Keely harboured seemed to grow bigger with every passing day. He’d glimpsed sadness tinged with something more akin to despondency in her eyes on the few occasions they’d caught up, and despite gentle prodding she hadn’t opened up.

Either that or she was snapping his head off for the smallest thing, and he’d had a gutful. It didn’t take a genius to figure out she had some self-esteem issues and he’d been careful not to make any references to her body since the first few outbursts which had put him on the outer. He’d been patient with her, yet she’d pushed him away at every opportunity anyway.

And it annoyed him. Hell, it had him so riled he could hardly think straight. Here he was, a psychologist at the top of his profession, offering help to thousands over the airwaves, yet he couldn’t breach the emotional walls of the one person he wanted to.

He’d reached out to her repeatedly over the last ten weeks, persisting when he could’ve given up. He’d grown to like her a lot, and she made him happy like no woman ever had. However, she’d eroded his patience. Being stuck in a one-way relationship when the other person’s interest had cooled wasn’t his style. He’d seen what that did to a man firsthand with his dad and, dammit, he wouldn’t wish that on his worst enemy, let alone himself.

Unfortunately, as hard as he tried not to compare Keely to his erratic mother, her behaviour drew frightening parallels that had him ready to call it quits.

Just yesterday she’d flared up over an innocent question he’d asked about how her websites for other clients were coming along, mentioning the cute work she’d done for that baby site. He’d been trying to show his interest in her career, she’d taken offence, and when he’d retaliated with a rather abrupt ‘Calm down’, she’d stormed out of the café, leaving him gobsmacked.

Another nasty similarity to his mother; she had run at the first sign of trouble. If an inconsequential spat that hinted at the rumbling volcano about to blow their relationship sky-high could make her walk, imagine what would happen if things got really serious between them. She’d flee quicker than he could say, ‘It’s over.’

When she’d run out of the café, he’d been ready to chase after her and end it right there and then, before an incoming call on his mobile from the producers of his new TV show had distracted him long enough to cool off.

‘Lachlan, twenty seconds.’

He looked up at the station manager and nodded, reaching for the headphones.

He needed to focus on work for now, but come Friday night at her friend’s party Keely owed him some answers. He’d tired of her games and was more than ready to pick up his bat and ball and head home. Alone.

Keely clutched her belly and groaned. ‘This bout of food poisoning is lingering too long. That’s the second time in the last few days I’ve been sick.’

Emma handed her a glass of water. ‘Here, drink this. You’ll feel better.’

Keely took several sips before her stomach rolled again and nausea washed over her in sickening waves.

‘Oh-oh, here we go again.’ She made a mad dash for the toilet, vowing to avoid Peking duck for ever. She’d never been this sick and, added to her lethargy, it made her want to crawl into bed for a week. Work had been manic, explaining her tiredness, but she’d eaten the Chinese food days ago and should be over it by now.

Bracing herself for the meeting with Emma and Tahlia to discuss her final presentation for Flirt, she staggered back into the conference room and fell into the nearest chair.

‘Feeling better?’ Emma had refilled the glass with water and handed it to her.

Keely nodded, wondering if she could beg off the meeting and head home. However, the Rottie had insisted they present her with the work done on the magazine’s website—like yesterday—so she’d been up till all hours putting the finishing touches on the design stuff and needed to run it by her colleagues before the presentation.

Emma reached over and squeezed her hand. ‘It’ll be over soon and then you can go home, okay?’

‘Sure,’ Keely said as her stomach somersaulted for an encore.

Tahlia breezed into the room at that moment, looking fabulous in a new trouser suit. ‘I wouldn’t sit in that chair if I was you.’

‘Why?’ If Keely hadn’t already been a pale shade of green she would’ve turned it anyway. Her friend wasn’t just dressed to impress, she had the perfect hair and make-up to match. Little wonder the Rottie rarely picked on Tahlia; her professional look would intimidate the scariest of bosses.

Tahlia sniggered as she grabbed a coffee and sat opposite. ‘Because that’s the preggers chair.’

‘Huh?’

‘Every woman who sits in that chair falls pregnant.’ Tahlia counted the list off on her fingers. ‘Nadia was the latest, then there was Shelby before her, Annie from Accounts, Maggie in Animation and Sue from Marketing.’

Tahlia paused, smug grin in place. ‘So you see, it must be the chair. And, seeing as you’re now engaging in activities that would make that chair a danger to you, I’d be very careful if I was you.’

Keely managed a weak laugh as her mind started jumping to all sorts of impossible conclusions.

‘Leave her alone; she isn’t feeling well.’ Emma placed a jug of water in front of her before taking a seat.

‘See? It’s worked already.’ Tahlia laughed at what Keely knew must be the bemused expression on her face.

Her friends didn’t know about her past; she’d been too ashamed, and, though they would understand, she’d rather relegate that sad time in her life to past memories where they belonged.

Therefore, Tahlia had no idea that the one thing she teased her about could never happen. Then why did she keep thinking that there could be more to this bout of food poisoning?

She’d skipped a period but that was nothing new. Her periods had never been regular and she’d put it down to work stress. It had happened in the past, thanks to her erratic hormones. But now, combined with the other symptoms she’d been having, a tiny seed of hope had been planted in her brain.

Could the doctor have been wrong all those years ago?

Sure, Lachlan used protection, but that method had never been foolproof. Just ask Nadia, her immediate superior and career woman, who had sworn to never have kids. She’d threatened to blow up the local rubber factory that produced condoms when she’d first found out the news.

Despite her stomach continuing to dance the Macarena, Keely managed a small smile. If there was even the slightest chance she was pregnant, she wouldn’t blow up the factory—she’d personally kiss each and every employee who worked there.

‘What are you grinning at?’ Tahlia asked, holding her hand out for the Flirt file.

‘Nothing,’ Keely said, trying to ignore the urge to leap out of her chair and rush to the nearest pharmacy to buy a pregnancy test.

Emma stared at Keely. She’d always been the more perceptive of her two friends and Keely knew that her confusion must show on her face, besides the fact that she’d gone from puking her guts up to grinning like a madwoman in less than a minute.

‘Are we still on for drinks this Friday night?’

Keely met Tahlia’s gaze for an instant before looking away. Otherwise she’d probably burst out laughing and give the game away. They’d planned Emma’s surprise birthday party for the end of this week and had everything arranged. Now all they had to do was get her there.

‘Well?’ Emma looked at Tahlia, obviously giving up on Keely.

Tahlia nodded. ‘Yep. Are you still interested in that makeover before your birthday next week?’

Emma wrinkled her nose. ‘Don’t mention the B word. This year I’m not interested in celebrating.’

‘Is it the age thing? After all, twenty-four is ancient,’ Tahlia teased, and though Emma laughed, Keely knew there was more to it than that.

With every year that passed Emma continued to pine for Harry Buchanan, and the fact that he wouldn’t be around this year was probably the cause of her friend’s reluctance to celebrate.

‘I don’t care what you say, you’re getting that makeover on Thursday night.’ Tahlia rubbed her hands together in glee. ‘Leave everything to me.’

‘What do you think?’ Emma glanced across at Keely and she gave her a thumbs up.

‘It’s a great idea. A change is as good as a holiday, some wise person once said.’ And, if that was the case, she’d be in for the equivalent of an around the world trip if her wild suspicions were confirmed.

‘Okay,’ Emma said, running her hands through her long blonde hair as if already ruing the fact that it would probably be the first to go. ‘Now, can we get down to business?’

Keely nodded and clutched her stomach under the conference table, silently praying for a tiny miracle.

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