‘Just that. It’s you or adoption. Take your pick.’

‘But you… You’re obviously caring for her.’

‘Yes. But I can’t keep her.’

‘Why not?’ His voice came out almost as a croak. He sounded sick. Well, why wouldn’t he sound sick? He surely felt like that.

‘I have my own life-’ she started.

He wasn’t buying into this. She’d taken on the baby’s care already. What could be more logical than asking her to keep up the good work? ‘This is your sister’s child.’ He forced his voice to stay steady, despite thoughts that weren’t the least bit steady. His thoughts were close to panic. ‘And you have a child already.’ He took a deep breath, thinking it through.

‘Look, crazy or not… If it’s proven that she’s mine-and I’m not conceding that yet, but if she is-then I guess I’m stuck with child support. I’ll pay you to keep her.’

Her eyes flashed anger at that. ‘Oh, that’s very generous. I don’t think.’

‘Well, what else do you expect me to do?’

‘Shoulder your responsibilities,’ she snapped. ‘And not offload them onto me. I’ve had enough.’

He focused on her then. Really focused.

She’d had enough.

It was true, he thought. Her face was pale with strain and her eyes were dark pools of exhaustion.

What had she said? That Fiona had died in childbirth. It sounded unbelievable. Vibrant, alive Fiona.

Crazy Fiona.

But Gemma had lost her sister.

‘How did she die?’ he asked, his tone softening, and he saw her eyes widen in surprise. She hadn’t expected compassion.

‘I don’t…’

He took a deep breath. ‘Look, maybe we’d better have the whole story. Did she die of eclampsia?’

‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘She died of kidney failure caused by her pregnancy combined with uncontrolled diabetes. She died because she didn’t give a toss for her life-or the lives of her children. Both of them.’

Both of them.

Both…