Marriage Reunited: Baby on the Way. Sharon Archer

than she’d thought possible. That he was right didn’t help. ‘You always say there’s no point dealing in could-have-beens.’

      ‘I also believe in reviewing ops afterwards and seeing where we could have been more effective.’

      ‘I was effective and I didn’t get hurt.’ Unable to sit any longer, she stood, picking up her plate and reaching for his, only to find both of them whisked out of her hands.

      ‘I’ll look after the dishes.’

      ‘I’m capable of carrying a few plates.’ She loitered beside her chair, heaviness dragging at her limbs.

      ‘Sure, but you don’t need to tonight. Go and sit down.’ He stacked the plates and scooped up the empty glasses before glancing up to find her standing in the same spot. ‘Are you still here?’

      ‘I—I think I’ll go to bed.’

      ‘Good idea. Take the master bedroom. I’ve put fresh sheets on the bed.’

      Quick heat burned her cheeks as she remembered their exchange of words earlier. ‘Thanks.’

      ‘Hell, Liz. I didn’t mean that the way it must have sounded.’

      ‘It doesn’t matter.’ She waved a hand in dismissal and forced her leaden legs to move. ‘Goodnight.’

       It did matter.

      Jack blew out a breath of frustration and guilt after she’d gone. He’d seen her face fall, a tell-tale blush briefly hiding the pallor of fatigue. The quip about the sheets had been unintentional. Sure, he’d had some harsh thoughts while he’d been making the bed up. But common sense told him, as much as he burned to sleep with his wife, it wasn’t going to happen while they had so much unresolved. Though he’d have been happy to put forward an argument on how it might help them resolve their problems…But then, that was how Liz had ended up pregnant in the first place, so perhaps not. Sharing a bed with Liz was probably a long way down the track.

      He dropped the dishes in the sink and looked out at the gathering twilight. His sanity might be in question before this was over. The thought of her in bed on the other side of the house made him ache.

      He’d come home to save his marriage, prepared to talk about having a family if that’s what it took. There should have been discussions, reconciliations—he’d especially been looking forward to those. But they were supposed to ease into it, approach the problem like mature adults, set a timetable that they could both be happy with. There should have been a decision to stop using contraception, the fun of trying to conceive and, eventually—maybe—Liz falling pregnant. Not this headlong pitch into impending parenthood.

      He wasn’t ready.

      Which made him realise that the problem with his imaginary future was that he’d never truly envisaged a pregnant Liz, the birth of a child.

      Himself as a father.

      And yet once his younger self had wanted that role fervently until grief and betrayal had crushed the naive joy in his heart.

      Suds filled the sink as he squirted detergent under the running tap. Could he resurrect an echo of that anticipation for Liz, for the child they were going to have together? If anyone deserved his best efforts, it was his wife. But contemplating their future as parents left him cold and empty.

      He sighed and began methodically washing the plates. After his experiences with his manipulative mother and then with his unfaithful fiancée’s pregnancy, he’d vowed to squash every nurturing instinct he possessed. For the first time he understood how thoroughly successful he’d been. Poor Liz. She’d never agree to take him back if she realised what an appalling candidate for fatherhood he really was. He’d have to work hard to make sure she never found out.