Deeper than she’d planned to go with anyone. Ever.

And he was thoughtful. He’d searched Paris to find a store which imported Lucky Charms so that he could surprise her with his idea of an American-style breakfast on her birthday. He would listen to her stories from home with an intensity that made her blush. And in bed… Well, that’s what had landed her here.

Two minutes.

But Robert had had babies. He had two grown-up daughters who he clearly adored. The eldest of which was turning twenty soon – twenty being the coming-of-age birthday in France – hence, her party. But he was very clear that he liked his daughters a lot more now that they were grown. He even blamed the break-up of his marriage on the fact his youngest daughter hadn’t slept properly until she was seven. What if one of the things he found most attractive about Shannon was her absolute certainty that she didn’t want a family? And she didn’t. She really, really didn’t. This was not something she was going to change her mind about. Some women were born maternal. Some women became maternal. Some women had pregnancy thrust upon them and… Whatever the maternal gene was, it had been missed out of Shannon’s DNA. And that was just fine and dandy.

One minute.

Shannon turned and confronted the damn stick, staring it down. Willing it to remain unchanged. Willing that second blue line to not appear. Why was the line on the maternity test blue? Not pink. Or red for danger? Or black for What the hell do I do now? Blue for a boy. After his two daughters, would Robert be more interested in having another child if it was a boy? A son?

Would she?

Maybe her period was just late. Maybe she had some weird virus. Maybe she just needed to stop being such a huge wuss, woman up and find out what she was dealing with. She took a deep breath and turned the stick over.

Two lines.

Merde.

Chapter Six

Laura

Gare du Nord at midday was a maelstrom of bodies and noise and… rather unpleasant smells. The rumble of trains, crowds of commuters and bedraggled beggars waving frayed cardboard signs didn’t really fit with Laura’s romantic expectations. It was less Three Colours: Blue and more three colours grey and grubby. Maybe James was right.

She said a brief goodbye to Kate and made her way off the international platform. At the gate was a group of people similar to those you find at airport arrivals: a mixture of bored taxi drivers holding placards, and families waiting to throw their arms around relatives. Laura had neither of those waiting for her, so she headed towards the signs for the Métro.

Her team coordinator, Shannon, had sent instructions that were precise and accurate as usual, and Laura managed to navigate the Métro and the short walk to the hotel with ease. When she’d first started coming to these team meetings in Europe, she’d loved the sophistication of being a business traveller, but the novelty had definitely started to wane.