It's my fault

She was tempted to hurl it in Micheal ’s face. It might sober him up. Whatever impulsive and stupid ardour had driven him into this room needed dampening down. He wasn’t thinking straight, any more than she’d been seeing straight. But she could see straight through him! Having figured out what she was doing in a maternity ward, he had a hot case of guilt.

“You need looking after, Lucia,” he said gruffly. “And I’m the man to do it. Drink up now.”

She sipped, just to moisten her throat. Then she glared her outrage at him. “Don’t you tell me what to do, Micheal. You have no right.”

He returned a determined look. “I contributed to this situation and—”

“You did not.” She cut him off with more belligerent determination. “You trusted me to get the contraception right, and I messed up. It’s all my fault.”

“Accidents happen,” he said grimly.

“Well, you don’t have to pay for this one. I take full responsibility.”

“Sure! And you’re doing a fine job of it, letting yourself get so run down you alm