BEST MISTAKE, stan
Luc scanned the headlines and bylines with a distracted air, unable to voice even to himself what —who —he was looking for.
Then he saw it.
The photo was a blurry shot of Abby walking down a street in London. The newspaper had helpfully added a red circle to highlight the slight swell of her middle.
It only took up a few inches of space on the third page of the arts section. Abby, Luc realised, was hardly news any more.
Yet she was, it seemed, pregnant. And he knew without even a flicker of doubt that if there was indeed a baby then it was his.
He pushed the paper away, unfocused, unseeing, his mind spinning with thoughts he could barely articulate. The coffee at his elbow grew cold and the sun rose in the sky, casting longer and longer shadows on the floor.
Finally, as if shaking himself from a dream, Luc rose. He reached for his cellphone, flicking it open and punching buttons. When his assistant answered, he spoke tersely. ‘I need the jet. This morning.’
Luc snapped his cell shut and gazed out at the River Seine winding through the city, at the cherry trees just beginning to blossom. Then, turning away from the
charming sight, he prepared to pack for his trip to England…to find Abby.