I Heart Forever

by Lindsey Kelk

‘Five days ago, I was on a deserted beach,’ he said wistfully, looking over at the pulsating swarm of bodies in the Christmas market. Little puffs of warm air followed his words every time he spoke.

  ‘You want to go back?’ I asked, checking my phone and smiling. She was on her way.

  ‘I’m good,’ he replied, reaching into the Bloomingdale’s bag in his hand. ‘Hey, look, I couldn’t help myself.’

  ‘You went to Bloomingdale’s without me?’ I wailed, pressing my hands over my mouth as he held up a little white onesie with a guitar on the front. He turned it around and, on the back, it read ‘I’m with the band’.

  ‘I had to,’ he said as I snatched it out of his hands. ‘Really, what choice did I have?’

  ‘This baby is going to be so well dressed,’ I said, my heart stopping at the price on the tag. How could this possibly cost fifty dollars? ‘Thick as a pig because we won’t be able to afford to send it to school, but incredibly well dressed. Do you have any idea how much it costs just to make sure your child doesn’t turn into a coked-out smack whore around these parts?’

  ‘Why?’ Alex asked. ‘Is it cheaper in England?’

  ‘It’s funny, if you go to normal school in England, you’ll probably just end up sniffing glue or doing poppers in GCSE science. You have to pay to go to private school to end up a cokehead,’ I explained. ‘But here, it seems fairly lose-lose. Send them to normal school and they’ve got no hope of getting into a good college. Send them to private school and they’re going to end up working as a high-class escort to pay for their Molly habit and possibly drown in the basement swimming pool of their Upper East Side schoolmate.’

  Alex met me with a stern look.

  ‘Have you been rewatching Gossip Girl?’

  ‘For research,’ I nodded gravely.

  ‘I know we’re not rolling in money but we’re not exactly living on the street either, we’ll make it work,’ he said, taking back the onesie and putting it safely inside the bag. ‘My baby is going to have the best of everything, whatever it takes. Me and Graham have so many great ideas for the next record, it’s going to kill.’

  ‘And do you think there’s a chance you can record it and tour it before the baby is born?’ I asked. ‘Because today I found out I only get three months’ maternity leave and literally no pay while I’m off.’

  ‘What did you tell me about keeping your blood pressure down,’ he asked. ‘You cannot get stressed about these things, we’ll figure them out. We’re not the first people in New York City to ever have a baby.’

  ‘No, I know,’ I agreed. He was right, I needed to calm down. And I needed some roasted nuts. ‘At least I’ve got really good health insurance with work.’

  ‘Good point, more things like that please,’ Alex said, taking my hand and leading me into the market. ‘I said I’d meet him by the mulled wine.’

  ‘Might be a bit of a problem if I get the sack tomorrow,’ I mused as we wove our way through the throngs of people. ‘But heigh-ho.’

  ‘Getting back to the positive stuff,’ he urged gently. ‘Have you thought about names?’

  ‘What if they do sack me, though?’ A warm flush of anxiety started at my toes and raced all the way up to my face. ‘I can’t be a stay-at-home mum forever, Alex. I’d lose my mind, I’d be the size of a house inside a week, you’d have to wash me with a rag on a stick. I need my life, I love my life.’

  ‘I was thinking Patti for a girl and maybe Elliot for a boy,’ Alex went on. ‘Or even Elliot for a girl. That works too, what do you think?’

  ‘Everything’s changing so quickly,’ I said, offering no response to his ridiculous names. ‘Even Chocolate Oranges have changed. I bought one from the English shop while you were away and they’ve taken the middle bit out and the foil is basically plastic now; you can’t rewrap them properly after you’ve had a bit.’

  ‘Babe,’ Alex took my manically waving hands in his and secured them against his chest. ‘When was the last time you rewrapped a Chocolate Orange?’

  ‘It took me three days to finish it,’ I said fearfully. ‘Maybe that was a sign. A terrible, terrible sign.’

  ‘I might have some money coming in soon,’ he said. ‘I was catching up on my emails and there was something from the licensing team at the label. Someone wants to use “Night Song” in something. I’m not sure what yet, but they actually want to pay.’

  Ooh, pay meant money.

  ‘On a soundtrack or something?’ I asked. ‘Like, in a movie?’

  ‘Night Song’ was one of my favourite songs from Stills’ last album, mostly because Alex said he’d written it for me. I really couldn’t see the point in being married to a musician if you couldn’t at least get a couple of good tunes out of it to brag about on Facebook.

  ‘I guess, he didn’t say.’ He leaned in and kissed my cheek, gently patting my belly at the same time. ‘I’m gonna talk to them tomorrow. I doubt we’re talking retire-in-the-Bahamas cash but it’s better than nothing.’

  ‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘I bet you could retire in the Bahamas on next to nothing. Once you’ve bought our house, what else do you need? I’d probably do a lot less online shopping in the Bahamas and—’

  ‘Hey,’ he nodded across the ice rink, ‘here she comes.’

  ‘And he’s over there,’ I said, pointing to the mulled wine stand. ‘Are you ready for Operation Jentervention?’

  ‘Fuck no,’ he replied, cheerful as you like. ‘But let’s go force our friends to get back together whether they like it or not.’

  Breaking apart, I jumped into the crowd to intercept Jenny while Alex headed Mason off at the pass. Tricking them into meeting up had been my idea, but Alex was the genius who suggested the very public setting. They were far less likely to spill blood with lots of people watching.

  ‘I know you’re pregnant, but I need to get wasted,’ Jenny said, leaning in for a double air kiss. ‘I had the shittiest day in history.’

  ‘Then this is going to be a wonderful surprise!’ I said, standing to the side to reveal Alex and Mason. Even though I’d seen Jenny look better, Mason looked like he was in a world of pain. It was only three days since they’d called it quits but he looked like he’d been living out by the bins for a month.

  ‘You start,’ I said to Alex, patting the front of his leather jacket while our formerly affianced friends stared at each other, speechless. ‘You’re the songwriter.’

  ‘You’re the writer,’ he replied, nervously flipping his attention between the two. ‘Why aren’t they saying anything?’

  ‘Then I’ll start,’ I said, waving a hand in front of Mason’s glassy eyes. ‘Before I do, please don’t hurt me, Mason, I’m pregnant.’

  ‘I know,’ he said, snapping to attention. ‘Jenny told me.’

  ‘You did?’ I turned on my friend who shrugged.

  ‘Sure,’ she replied. ‘He swore he wouldn’t say anything.’

  ‘How long have you known?’ I asked, looking back up at Mason and trying not to get a crick in my neck.

  ‘Uh, a couple of weeks?’ he guessed, checking with Jenny. She nodded and made a more-or-less gesture with her hand. ‘I don’t know, when did you move into Jen’s place?’

  ‘You told him right away!’ I wailed. ‘Jenny!’

  ‘I tell him everything,’ she wailed back. ‘You know I can’t keep a secret!’

  ‘Did you tell him what you told me on Saturday night?’ I demanded, hands on my quickly expanding hips.

  ‘Which part?’ she asked quietly.

  ‘The part where you said you just wanted to marry him and only wanted a big wedding to show people how much you love him,’ I prompted. ‘Not that part where I found you in an alleyway, covered in disgusting bin juice.’

  ‘No, because he’s an asshole who doesn’t love me and never really wanted to get married in the first place,’ she replied, folding her arms over her pea coat and refusing to look at Mason. ‘And it’s really hard to tell him anything when he won’t return my cal
ls.’

  ‘You called me once!’ Mason volleyed back. ‘And when I tried to call you on Sunday, you’d blocked my number!’

  ‘You did?’ Alex winced. ‘Cold, Lopez.’

  ‘I did?’ She pulled out her phone to check. He was right. ‘Wow, old habits, huh?’

  ‘I do love you,’ Mason said, chopping one giant palm with his other giant hand. ‘And I do want to marry you. But I don’t want to spend the same amount of money on a wedding that we could use to put down a deposit on a house. The things you were talking about, Jen, we could put our kids through college with what you wanted to spend.’

  ‘Our kids?’ she asked, gnawing on her thumbnail.

  ‘Yeah.’ He pulled her hand out of her mouth. ‘Don’t bite your nail, you know how mad you’ll be if it breaks.’

  ‘I don’t want to spend that much money,’ she said, sticking her hands deep into her coat pockets. ‘They were just ideas I was coming up with. You didn’t have to be such an asshat about it.’

  ‘I overreacted,’ Mason admitted. ‘I’ve been losing my mind about all the restructures at work and I didn’t want to worry you. I guess I convinced myself if I couldn’t give you the wedding you deserved, I didn’t deserve you.’

  ‘Look at them,’ I whispered to Alex, resting my head on his arm. ‘They’re talking to each other!’

  ‘All I want is to marry you,’ Jenny said, biting her bottom lip and looking upwards. I recognized it as her I’m-not-going-to-cry face. ‘I don’t care where we do it, Mase.’

  ‘Maybe we could do it at my brother’s house upstate,’ he suggested, reaching out to pull her into a hug.

  ‘No,’ she replied quickly, burying her face into his torso. ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘Hey, let’s do this properly.’ Mason released his re-fiancée and pulled his wallet out of his jacket pocket. ‘I kept this with me, just in case.’

  Lowering himself onto one knee, he held out Jenny’s ring as people formed a circle all around us.

  ‘Jenny Lopez, will you marry me possibly in Maui, possibly in New York but definitely not in my brother’s house?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes!’ Jenny said, tearing her leather gloves off with her teeth and hurling them in my general direction. ‘You know I will, dickface.’

  ‘Young love,’ Alex sighed, kissing the top of my head.

  I, and approximately half the city, began to clap as Mason picked Jenny up off her feet and spun her around in a big circle. I gave her an enthusiastic thumbs up, holding her gloves in my teeth as she leaned towards me over his shoulder.

  ‘You really didn’t have to mention the alleyway part,’ she hissed. ‘Dick.’

  ‘Those two crazy kids,’ I said to Alex. ‘Our work here is done.’

  ‘Good, this jetlag is playing havoc with my appetite,’ he said. ‘Can we get something to eat? I’m starving.’

  ‘How do you always know just what to say,’ I said, embracing him happily. ‘Pizza?’

  ‘Pizza,’ he confirmed.

  Truly, there could not have been a better end to a worse day.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  My mum always loved to tell me a watched pot never boils. Utter nonsense, I would reply, of course it does. But I’d been watching the kettle in our little work kitchen for what felt like a lifetime and the bloody thing refused to boil. It was so long since I’d made myself a cup of tea at work, I assumed it had gone on strike. Enjoying a nice cup of Tetley’s finest had become a home-exclusive activity. The office called for coffee – lattes, cappuccinos, Americanos, espressos if I was in a bad way, flat whites if I was feeling fancy. I wasn’t sure when I’d switched from a lovely cup of tea to a bucket of rocket fuel, but I did know I missed it. Jenny had insisted I switch to decaffeinated beverages because caffeine was bad for the baby. So now I was both perpetually knackered and suffering caffeine withdrawals, a wonderful combination that definitely helped me get through the day with a smile on my face.

  ‘Mine’s with milk and two sugars.’

  I turned around to see Joe gurning at me on the other side of the fridge.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Not really,’ he said, straightening his tie. ‘I don’t do sugar or dairy.’

  ‘Of course you don’t,’ I replied, heaping a teaspoon full of the good stuff into my decaf brew. They can take away my caffeine, but they’ll never take my sugar, just like Braveheart said. Or something.

  It was only a day since I’d given my presentation, I wasn’t expecting any answers just yet. I was hoping for them but I’d long since learned that anticipation was the mother of all kicks to the tits. A watched pot never boiled and a constantly refreshed inbox never delivered. Maybe my mum was onto something after all.

  ‘I’m very close to finalizing the new strategy,’ Joe said, eyeing my sugar consumption with disdain. At least, I hoped it was just my sugar consumption. It could have been the massive pompoms on the front of my jumper, but since I’d had no coffee in three weeks and gave approximately zero fucks, I would never really know. ‘I’m presenting to Delia and the board next week and we’ll be able to share with the group before the holidays.’

  ‘You’re going to announce a restructure before Christmas?’ I asked, stirring my milky tea. ‘So, there aren’t going to be any redundancies?’

  ‘Obviously this is all hypothetical and confidential, but why would that mean there aren’t going to be any redundancies?’ He looked at me, confused.

  I felt as though I was going to puke and unusually, it had nothing to do with the baby.

  ‘You’re going to put people out of a job, right before Christmas?’

  ‘Better to get it done than drag it out into the New Year,’ he replied with his shark’s smile. ‘Wouldn’t you agree?’

  ‘Joe, can I ask,’ I picked up my tea and took a small sip, ‘who did you vote for in the last election?’

  ‘I’ll talk to you next week,’ he said, rapping on the refrigerator before he left. ‘I think you’re going to be excited.’

  ‘I can hardly contain myself,’ I assured him, heading in the opposite direction and back to my empty office.

  Only it wasn’t empty.

  Two very burly men and one officious-looking woman were removing the little settee that sat inside the door and bringing in a hot pink desk and matching chair.

  ‘I think you might have the wrong office,’ I said, holding my tea over my head to avoid spillage as I sidled around them to block their way. ‘This is my office, I’m not expecting any new furniture.’

  ‘Angela Clark?’ the woman asked, consulting a clipboard as she spoke. ‘Office 1223?’

  I nodded.

  ‘Then this is the correct office.’

  Loading themselves up like a little human forklift, the two men picked up my settee and backed themselves out of the office. I followed as clipboard lady called the lift.

  ‘The order was signed by Joe Herman,’ she explained, flashing a scribble on a piece of paper at me. ‘I’m sure he can explain.’

  ‘I’m sure he can,’ I replied. ‘And I’m sure he won’t.’

  Half the office was out on lunch but those that remained were all ears. Constantly having to bite my tongue had aged me ten years in the last three weeks. I was going to start billing my sheet masks back to the company and boy, did I love a sheet mask.

  ‘What’s happening?’ Jason asked, clutching at his throat as I hovered by his desk. ‘Are you leaving? Did you get fired? Are you supposed to be taking the furniture with you?’

  ‘I didn’t get fired, I’m not leaving,’ I said, watching as it disappeared into the lift, ‘but I’m not sure what’s going on.’

  ‘What’s with Barbie’s Dream Desk?’ Megan popped up from her desk, three different shades of eyeshadow on each eye. ‘Are you redecorating?’

  ‘Do I really look like someone who would have a neon pink desk in her office?’ I asked. They looked at each other and then nodded. ‘Yeah, I totally would. Where do you think it’s from? I wonder if A
lex would let me have one at home.’

  ‘Everything’s all right, isn’t it?’ Megan asked, lowering her voice. ‘Ever since they cleared out marketing I’ve been waiting for the other shoe to drop. One of the guys on Ghost told me he saw Caroline from The Look crying in the toilets yesterday.’

  ‘One of my guys on Ghost told me they’re firing their editor,’ Jason confided. I tried not to look startled; if they fired Mason’s editor, what would that mean for him?

  ‘There’s so much gossip going around at the moment, and I bet hardly any of it is true,’ I said, trying to throw them off the scent. ‘Do you really believe Caroline Galvani was crying in the toilets?’

  Jason nodded. Megan looked doubtful.

  ‘There’s no way,’ I insisted, even though I was quite sure she had been. The look on her face as she left Delia’s office had kept me awake half the night. ‘She’s such a professional, it just wouldn’t happen. Even I wouldn’t cry in the toilets at work.’

  ‘You cry all the time,’ Megan replied. ‘You cried in the morning meeting on Monday.’

  ‘That was Sophie’s fault for playing that video of the dog that hadn’t seen his owner in five years,’ I argued.

  ‘And you were crying at your desk this morning,’ Jason added. ‘I didn’t like to say, but basically we all saw.’

  ‘I was watching the dog video again,’ I replied. ‘The point is, I would never cry in the toilets about work stuff and neither would Caroline Galvani.’

  ‘Oh,’ Megan snapped her fingers and pointed at Jason, ‘what about that time Idris Elba came in and you missed him because you were buying cronuts? You cried in the toilets then.’

  ‘As I was saying, I very much doubt anyone saw Caroline Galvani crying in the toilets yesterday and if she was, I’m sure she had a very good reason,’ I replied. ‘Maybe she was trying to get tickets to the Katy Perry concert and they’d all sold out.’

  ‘Angela, I love you but you’re a terrible liar,’ Jason said. ‘How long until we know whether or not we’re all gonna get fired?’

  I had two choices. I could tell them the truth or I could lie.

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ I lied.