CHAPTER TWENTY
WYNTER
I stretch out, yawning as morning light slips through the blinds. For a second, the dread isn’t there—the heavy knot that’s been living in my chest for months.
But then I remember Ray’s face from last night. The way his expression fell after my comment. The way something in him just . . . shut down.
And the feeling comes rushing back.
Boundaries. That’s what my therapist would call it.
Clear lines so we both know where we stand.
Only, a small part of me hates that we’re not standing together.
That we’re so far apart even the heavens feel closer.
And it would be easy to give in. To fall into his arms. To give him the family he so desperately wants.
But I’d lose myself. Again. And I’ve only just started finding that version of me.
I sigh, throwing back the covers and heading for the shower. Whatever mood Ray’s in today, I can’t avoid him forever.
Half an hour later, I slow as I near the kitchen. Laughter drifts down the hallway.
I step into the doorway and pause. They’re gathered around the table. Ray at the head, Sebastian beside him, legs swinging as he laughs at something Ray’s just said. And Jessica sits opposite, smiling into her coffee.
It’s easy. Relaxed.
Ray looks up first. For a second, I brace for tension, for something left over from last night. But there’s nothing.
Just a small nod. “Morning.”
“Morning,” I echo, stepping in cautiously.
Sebastian lights up. “Wynter! We’re having pancakes again!”
“Again?” I glance at Ray.
He shrugs. “Apparently it’s all he wants to eat now.”
“That’s not true,” Sebastian protests. “I like chips too.”
Jessica laughs. “Don’t let him fool you. He just told us it’s pancakes for life now.”
I hover near the counter, unsure where to slot myself in. They look . . . complete. Like a little unit. And I feel like I’ve just walked into something already established.
The thought hits before I can stop it. This is what it would look like if Ray moved on. If he got his family. Built a life with someone who fits.
Someone who isn’t . . . me.
I swallow it down, forcing a small smile as I take a seat. “I see I’ve started a trend.”
Ray glances at me, something flickering in his eyes, but it’s gone before I can read it. “Unfortunately,” he mutters.
“Ray, I’m taking Sebastian to the park after school. You’re welcome to join us,” Jessica says, rinsing her cup.
His gaze flicks to me, then he opens the newspaper. “Maybe. I’ll check my diary.”
She turns to me. “Wynter?”
“Maybe another time—” Ray starts.
His answer for me lands like a spark to dry kindling. “I’d love to,” I cut in, smiling sweetly.
I feel his eyes on me as I reach for a pancake, tearing off small pieces just to have something to do with my hands.
“Great. Right, Seb—bag and coat. We need to go,” Jessica says, heading out after him.
I drop the half-eaten pancake back onto my plate. My appetite still hasn’t found its way back. “Are you going into the office today?” I ask, finally looking up.
Ray’s staring at my plate, his jaw tight like he wants to say something about wasting food, or me not eating enough. Instead, his gaze lifts to mine. “Actually, I thought we’d spend the day together.”
I frown. “Why?”
“We need to go shopping.”
A groan slips out. “That’s the last thing we need.”
He pushes to his feet. “Get dressed. We’re leaving in ten.”
And just like that, he’s gone—before I can argue.
I stare, wide-eyed, as the car pulls up outside Harrods. Of course he’s brought me here.
A man steps forward, opening my door before I even have a chance to reach for it, and my frown deepens.
Ray is already on the pavement, waiting.
I step out slowly, my gaze lifting up the building. “When you said shopping, I thought . . . I don’t know what I thought,” I admit, shaking my head. “But it wasn’t this. What are we doing here, Ray?”
“We need things for the baby,” he says simply.
I blink at him. “And you decided Harrods was the only place for that?”
He nods, already heading for the entrance.
I glance around, then hurry after him. “Wait,” I hiss. “I don’t even know what to get. What we need.”
“Which is why I hired a personal shopper.”
I stop short. “You what?”
But he’s already moving again, a suited man holding the door open as we step inside.
A personal shopper. Who even does that?
My eyes flick around the store, taking everything in. It’s too polished, too perfect—as Ray speaks quietly to a woman behind the desk. A minute later, she approaches with a bright, practised smile.
“Hi, Wynter. I’m Stacie, and I’ll be your personal shopper today.”
“Right,” I mutter, unease settling heavy in my chest.
“If you’d like to follow me, we’ll head over to our nursery section.”
Ray’s already on his phone, his attention gone as quickly as it came, his thumb scrolling through emails.
I trail after her anyway.
The baby section hits me all at once. Soft colours. Tiny clothes. Shelves packed with things I don’t recognise, don’t understand.
And it all feels . . . too much.
“How far along are you?” Stacie asks, that same polished smile still fixed in place.
“Six months,” I reply, resting a hand over my bump.
“Wow, you’re so tiny,” she says. I force a tight smile, something in me bristling at the comment. “Is this your first?” she adds, grabbing a notepad from the counter. I nod. “And what sort of things are you looking for today?”
I let out a quiet breath, glancing over at Ray, who’s still glued to his phone.
He feels us looking and finally glances up. “Sorry?”
“I have no idea,” I admit, turning back to her. “I haven’t even had a chance to think about it.”
But Stacie isn’t looking at me anymore. Her attention has shifted.
To him.
“What sort of things are you looking for today?” she asks again, her tone subtly different.
Ray slips his phone into his pocket, stepping forward like he’s finally decided to engage. “Right, of course. Erm . . .” His eyes scan the room. “Everything. Let’s just get it all.”
Her brows lift slightly. “Of course. Shall we start with the pushchair?”
She turns, leading the way, and Ray follows without hesitation—already asking about car seats, safety ratings, age ranges.
By the time I catch up, he’s deep into it. Statistics. Specifications. All things I didn’t know I had to research.
I hover a step behind them, my hand resting on my stomach. And I feel invisible. Like this baby is his and I’m just here for the ride. I slow as I reach them, lingering just behind Ray’s shoulder. He’s already in full flow.
“I’ve read that the suspension makes a difference if you’re using it on uneven ground,” he says, gesturing towards one of the pushchairs. “And I want something lightweight but still sturdy. Easy to fold, but not flimsy. Safety is the priority.”
Stacie nods eagerly. “Of course. This model here—”
“And the car seat needs to be compatible,” he adds, stepping closer. “ISOFIX base. High safety rating. I saw this brand scored well in independent testing.”
I blink at him. He’s done research. Every detail, every feature. Looked at, scrutinised, all without me.
Stacie smiles, clearly impressed. “You’ve really done your homework.”
Ray shrugs casually. “I like to be prepared.”
I shift my weight, my hand drifting to my bump, but neither of them look my way. They don’t need to. They’ve got this handled.
Stacie glances between the pushchair and Ray, her smile softening. “It’s lovely to see. Are you excited about becoming a dad?”
Something in my chest tightens. I wait expectantly, because if he was going to include me in conversation, now would be the perfect time.
“I already am one,” he says easily, “so I know what I’m doing.”
Stacie lets out a small laugh. “Ah, of course. That makes it easier the second time around.”
“Yeah,” he replies, nodding as he checks the frame. “You know exactly what you’ll use, what’s worth the money and what isn’t.”
I don’t know any of that stuff. What I’ll need. What I’ll buy on a whim because it’s on the shelf. I haven’t researched pushchairs. I haven’t even worked out how to hold a newborn correctly.
I take a step back, but neither of them notice. Stacie is already pointing out another model, talking about wheels and storage and convenience, and Ray follows without hesitation, asking questions, making decisions.
I take another step back.
Then another.
And still, there’s nothing. No glance over his shoulder. No ’what do you think’. No ’are you okay’. Just them, talking and planning. Deciding what will work best for my baby.
My hand presses lightly to my stomach as something tight builds in my chest.
I don’t belong here.
I take another step back, then turn, slipping quietly away from the display. The closer I get to the exit, the easier it is to breathe.
No one calls my name. No one notices I’m gone. And by the time I reach the door, I don’t hesitate.
I slip outside into the cool air, dragging in a breath like I’ve been holding it for far too long.
I don’t stop walking.
The cold air hits my face, but it doesn’t clear my head. If anything, it makes everything sharper. Louder. My chest tight as I move down the street, past people who don’t even glance my way, all caught up in their own lives. Their own worlds.
I wrap my arms loosely around myself, my fingers brushing over my bump as I try to steady my breathing.
I shouldn’t feel like this. I shouldn’t feel . . . pushed out.
Because in there, it wasn’t us preparing for a baby. It was Ray, and I was just . . . there. An afterthought. A vessel. The thought makes my stomach twist, and I pick up my pace, like I can outrun it.
A sharp banging sound cuts through the noise around me.
I frown, slowing. It comes again, louder this time. I glance around and notice a hand smacking against the café window. Sofia waves frantically, grinning and indicating for me to go inside.
For a moment, I just stare. Of all the places . . . all the people . . . then she taps the glass again, raising a brow like she’s not taking no for an answer.