"Don't worry about me, Ross. About us. We'll be fine." She tried to smile. "Goodbye."
He didn't stop her, and she went inside and closed the door. A few minutes later she heard him going down the stairs. Relief filled her, but she still cried.
Work had been her salvation before, and she counted on it now. She went in early the next morning and spent two hours scrubbing down counters and rearranging stock, feeling pleased with herself for being so good at using mindless work to erase her own thought processes.
Then everything fell apart. The first customer, Deirdre, her assistant, let in and led to a table was Ross Carrington.
When she looked up he smiled and saluted her with a little wave. Gone was the dour face of the day before. What she saw in her restaurant was the man who had made her love him months ago, looking thoroughly lovable again.
But she couldn't have that. She marched right over to his table.
"What are you doing here?" she demanded.
He was the picture of innocence. "Having breakfast. Isn't that what everyone does here?"
She put coffee down in front of him and pulled out an order pad. "Fine," she said nervously. "But be quick about it. I'm sure you want to get started for home at a decent hour."
He smiled at her again, his eyes sparkling. "I'm not going home."
Her pencil paused above the pad. "You're not?"
"No. I've taken the condominium next door to where you're staying." His grin broadened. "I'm going to keep an eye on you. And my baby."
Charity's shoulders sagged. "Oh, Ross, please don't!"
"Don't you worry." He patted her hand. "I'm going to be unobtrusive. You'll hardly know I'm there."
"Ross, it won't work. We just…we can't…I don't know…"
"Don't worry, Char." He smiled guilelessly. "I won't bother you at all."
That statement turned out to be a blatant lie. He bothered her from the first. To begin with, he stayed in the res taurant all morning, sipping coffee, trying various items from the menu and reading from a book he'd brought along.
"A Mother's Guide to Pregnancy Nutrition," he told her, holding it up. "It's great."
"No doubt." She was setting up the table next to his.
"Okay, Charity." He pulled out a pencil of his own and began to write in the margins. "Let's have it. How many cups of milk would you say you drink a day?"
She tried to glare at him. "That is none of your business."
"Green leafy vegetables? And what brand of vitamins are you using?"
She turned on him, eyes flashing. "I don't have to tell you any of this."