The Middle-Aged Virgin_A Chick Lit, Romantic Comedy Novel_Newly Single And Seeking Spine-Tingles...

by Olivia Spring

I felt like I’d only closed my eyes for ten minutes before there was a tap on my shoulder.

  Fran was back. Large Boots bag in hand. ‘Come on, my love,’ she said, tapping me on the shoulder. ‘I hope you’ve been drinking your tea, as we’re going to need you to pee on a few sticks.’

  ‘A few?’ I asked.

  ‘Of course!’ she replied. ‘This is your future, Soph. We’re not going to rely on just one test. A lot of them come with multiple sticks, but I’ve still bought some different types to be sure. Whatever the outcome, you’ll still need to book an appointment with your doctor first thing on Monday.’

  As we headed into the largest toilet at the end of the corridor and locked the door, Fran took the boxes out of the bag. There was a digital one and another one with a colour-change tip. She removed the test stick from the foil wrapper, took off the blue cap and handed it to me.

  ‘Now you need to hold the pink tip pointing downwards in your urine stream,’ she advised.

  I’d never been more apprehensive about weeing. At first it wouldn’t even come. Didn’t help having an audience either. I wasn’t nervous about being in a loo with Fran per se. I was just trying to get my head around the fact that in two minutes’ time, my life could change forever.

  The tip turned pink. I handed the first stick to Fran, who then popped the cap back on and laid the test flat. Good thing she wasn’t worried about touching something with someone else’s wee on.

  I repeated the process with the next test, then we waited in silence for the results.

  One test took two minutes and the other three. It felt like the longest 180 seconds of my life.

  Eventually, she looked at them one by one and smiled.

  The suspense was killing me…

  ‘Congrats, Sophia,’ she said, grinning. ‘You’re going to be a mum. You’re pregnant!’

  I looked at the plus symbol in the results window of the first one, then the word ‘Pregnant’ on the second.

  OMFG.

  Chapter Forty-One

  As soon as I saw him walk towards the cab, flashing his big smile, my heart skipped a beat.

  ‘Hello, my beauty,’ Lorenzo said as he climbed into the back seat to join me. ‘Come here!’ he said, pulling me towards him in a tight embrace.

  We held each other for ages before Lorenzo released me and began kissing me so forcefully, I thought my mouth was going to fall off. And I enjoyed every single second. God, I’d missed him. I hadn’t realised quite how much until I’d felt his lips and body against mine.

  Now that my pregnancy had been confirmed, tonight I wanted to tell him about the situation face-to-face. And by the situation, I meant the pregnancy and the fact that there was a slim chance it could be Charlie’s baby. It was more likely to be Lorenzo’s, though, surely? We’d been at it constantly for weeks. Although, as my doctor had pointed out, it only took the once, so that wasn’t entirely relevant.

  To find out for sure, I could do a prenatal paternity test, but because it involved inserting a needle through my abdomen or inserting a tube to get a sample of fluid from the womb, it was risky and could lead to miscarriage. Or I could hold on until the baby was born and do a paternity test by doing a cheek swab.

  As frustrating as it might be not knowing who the father was, it was a no brainer. I would wait.

  Baby.

  Me? I’m actually having a baby.

  Unbelievable.

  Amazing.

  Absolutely, bloody terrifying.

  How had this happened? Okay, I wasn’t stupid, I know how things happened biologically, but…

  I’d thought it was too late for me, that I didn’t have a chance of this happening naturally, so in that respect, I was completely and utterly overjoyed. I had started thinking about whether it will be a boy or a girl, who it would look like, what they’d be called, how they’d sound when they started talking. What it would feel like to hold my baby in my arms for the first time…I had spent hours dreaming about it.

  But then, I’d start shitting myself. What if my age caused complications? I’d read about the challenges online, so what if something went wrong?

  And what the hell did I know about how to raise a baby to ensure it grew it into a fully functioning adult? Sometimes it was hard enough just looking after myself, never mind a tiny, delicate human.

  Then there was the business. How would I even cope with running that too? I knew the team had been great, but I’d still need to keep on top of things.

  How would it all work with Lorenzo, anyway? Would he be okay to move over here? It would mean upping sticks and finding a permanent job to be with us. Things seemed to be going well at the restaurant now, but what if he didn’t want to live in London? And what if we did spend months building our lives together, the baby was born and we then discovered he wasn’t even the father?

  Fuck.

  My head was spinning. This was too much to take in. I wanted to tell myself it was going to be okay, but I wasn’t convinced that it would be. Especially when I hadn’t even figured out how best to tell him.

  Every time I tried to think about planning the conversation, another what if…? question popped into my head and I would end up stressing even more, so I’d have to abandon my thoughts.

  The most important thing right now was to be honest and tell Lorenzo straight away. If I did it immediately, I’d be less likely to chicken out and we could discuss how best to move forward.

  Telling Lorenzo straight away might have been my intention. But, as I’ve mentioned before, I was hopeless around this man. Lorenzo did to me what kryptonite does to Superman. I lost all my powers and was rendered totally and utterly his. All consciousness and logic went out the window.

  So, of course, rather than spending the rest of that night and all of his day off talking sensibly about our future, he reacquainted me with his flat. Frolicking on the bed, sofa, floor, kitchen worktops, in the shower and against the walls was all as marvellous as I remembered…

  Never mind dancing on the ceiling, Mr Lionel Richie. If we could’ve found a way to fuck on it, we would have done that too.

  I wondered if I could ever tire of sex with this man. He amazed me every time.

  It was now Wednesday morning. I couldn’t leave it any longer to tell him. The timing wasn’t perfect, but would it ever be?

  ‘Lorenzo?’ I said, unspooning myself from his embrace and facing him. ‘Are you awake?’

  ‘Yes, beauty,’ he croaked, stirring a little. ‘I am tired, but awake. Must get up soon.’

  ‘Before you do, there’s something important I need to tell you.’ I sat up abruptly in the bed. ‘I–I… well, there’s no easy way to say this…’ I took a deep breath and then blurted out: ‘I…I’m pregnant.’

  ‘Huh?’ he asked, rubbing his eyes. ‘What did you say, Sophia?’

  ‘I said I’m pregnant. I’m having a baby,’ I clarified, whilst fixating my eyes on him to monitor his reaction.

  He bolted upright in the bed. I guess he heard and understood this time…

  ‘What? You are having a baby?’ He rubbed his eyes again, opened them rapidly, then began frowning.

  Clearly his brain was working hard to juggle trying to wake up, taking in what I’d said in English, translating it into Italian and then attempting to process the enormity of my revelation. ‘It is my baby, yes? You stopped seeing that guy, Charlie, before we began our relationship in London?’

  ‘Yes, I’m pretty sure it’s yours…’ I paused and shifted in the bed as I considered how best to reply. ‘I haven’t seen Charlie for ages—like you said. Since we met up again, it has only ever been you. Except—well, the thing is that, having looked at the possible dates of conception, there’s a bit of a grey area because a few hours before you messaged and the day before you and I met up again in London, I had slept with Charlie. We used a condom, but it might have come off during sex—I can’t be a hundred percent sure. And then of course I wasn’t intending to sleep with you when we went for that dri
nk. I just wanted to hear what you had to say, but the attraction was so strong that I couldn’t help myself. So because we were also together and the baby could have been conceived at any point that week, there’s some confusion. But don’t worry, I’m certain it’s yours. I mean, it must be…’

  Now I was rambling, and it wasn’t sounding good at all.

  He stared at me blankly, eyes glaring. There was silence for what felt like twenty hours, but in reality was around twenty seconds. That might not seem like very long, but when you’ve dropped a bombshell like this and are waiting for someone to respond, it might as well be an eternity.

  ‘Aren’t you going to say something?’ I said, desperate to break the silence.

  ‘I…I am…shocked,’ he said. The vein in the centre of his forehead had become enlarged and was throbbing violently. Blood rushed to his cheeks causing them to look inflamed. No doubt with anger. ‘Sophia, I am surprised. I…I need time. I must think about everything that you have said.’

  He jumped out of the bed and went into the bathroom. There was silence for a while as if he was in there thinking, but then I heard him switch on the shower.

  Shit. I should have thought more carefully about how I said it. This must be a lot for him to take in. If we could talk it through, hopefully I could reassure him. I needed Lorenzo to know what he meant to me. That it must be his baby. He was the only father I wanted for my child.

  When he came out, he avoided eye contact and got dressed quickly without uttering a word.

  ‘I am going to be late for work,’ he said, scooping up his keys and phone from the coffee table. ‘I must think. Give me time, please, Sophia.’

  Although he avoided looking at me as he fled out the door, I could sense he was shocked. But there was something else, too. Vulnerability, perhaps? Pain? I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. I wanted to take him in my arms and somehow reassure him that we’d be okay.

  We’d never talked about kids during our conversations. To be honest, I’d steered clear of the subject as I didn’t want to highlight the fact that if he did want children, I might not be able to provide them. As Monique had said at my birthday dinner last year, men can have children in their seventies and it’s accepted. Whereas once women hit thirty-five, we’re constantly told that we’re over the hill. So if a family was on his wish list, bringing it up would only serve to remind him that he needed to pursue a younger model, rather than stay with a woman like me, whose ovaries were fast approaching their expiration date.

  In a way, I wished he’d shouted, screamed or just said something so I knew what he was thinking. But like he said, he needed time to take it all in, and I had to respect that. I’d known for days and was still coming to terms with it, so I could only imagine how many different emotions were flooding through his mind. If space was what he needed, I had to try and give it to him.

  It was now Saturday, and I still hadn’t heard anything from Lorenzo.

  It can be annoying to be harassed after telling someone you need space, so I’d initially vowed not to contact Lorenzo until he’d got in touch first. But now it had been three days, and I hadn’t even got a ‘hello’ from him. I was worried. Normally we spoke at least twice a day. I checked WhatsApp. He was last seen when? Wednesday afternoon? That was so unlike him.

  I tried calling his phone. Switched off. Of course. He’s working.

  By 7 p.m., after trying to call two more times, I couldn’t take it anymore. I booked an Uber and headed to the restaurant.

  I knew he’d be busy, but I just needed to know he was okay. Surely he would have had a break at some point in the day and seen my missed calls?

  As I entered the restaurant, I saw Gino, one of Lorenzo’s waiter friends, in the corner. He caught my eye and when he’d finished taking a customer’s order, he headed over to me by the entrance.

  ‘Gino, how are you?’ I asked, smiling, but also scanning the busy restaurant on the off-chance that Lorenzo had stepped out of the kitchen.

  ‘Bene, Sophia,’ he said, returning my smile. ‘You looking for Lorenzo?’

  ‘Yes,’ I replied. ‘Is he in the kitchen? I can’t seem to reach him.’

  ‘Sorry, Sophia, but Lorenzo has gone. Back to Italy,’ he replied, his face falling.

  ‘What?’ I snapped. ‘What do you mean he’s gone?’ I shouted. Some of the guests turned around to see what the commotion was about. Gino touched my shoulder and gently ushered me outside the restaurant.

  ‘This afternoon,’ he replied. ‘Chef was not happy. Lorenzo said he has personal problems and must go. He called and told me that if you came, to say he is sorry. He said he left a key with his neighbour, Jack, and that if you ring Flat 5, he will let you into his place as there is something there for you. I hope that makes sense?’ Seeing how upset I was, he touched my shoulder again. ‘I am sorry, Sophia. I must go back inside.’

  I was rooted to the spot. I couldn’t even speak. Everything was spinning.

  Lorenzo’s gone back to Italy? Just like that?

  He’s left me? And our baby? Alone? Without even calling? Without even telling me?

  I don’t understand. I need to sit down.

  No. I needed to speak to him. Maybe he hadn’t left. Maybe he was still there. If I hurried, I could catch him at the flat.

  I rushed towards the main street, hailed a black cab and headed straight to his place. I buzzed his flat first. No answer. Then again. Still no answer.

  What number did Gino say I should buzz? Four. No, no. Five. I pressed down on the buzzer.

  ‘Hello?’ said the male voice coming through the intercom.

  ‘Um, is that, is that Jack?’ I asked.

  ‘Yep, that’s me,’ he said suspiciously. ‘Why? Who’s this?’

  ‘It’s Sophia,’ I replied quickly. ‘I, I had a message from—’

  ‘Oh yes,’ he interjected. ‘You’re after Lorenzo. Come up.’ He buzzed me in.

  Yes! Maybe I’d just managed to catch him.

  By the time I’d climbed the stairs and reached the first floor, Jack was already standing by Lorenzo’s front door.

  ‘Here,’ he said, pointing to the door. ‘I’ve opened up. I’ll come back later to lock up.’ He disappeared into his flat across the hall.

  I pushed the door and tiptoed inside.

  I scanned the flat. It was empty. Cold.

  No!

  He can’t be gone!

  Why?

  I checked his wardrobe. Nothing inside. Just hangers. I went to the bathroom. The shelf normally filled with his aftershave, toothbrush and toothpaste was bare.

  All that was left was some of my stuff, neatly folded on the bed. A black dress, a pair of light blue jeans, an orange jumper, some red underwear and a spare make-up bag.

  From the bed, I could see some fruit on the kitchen worktop—a couple of oranges and an overripe banana. The cushions were propped up on the sofa, and there was some post on the coffee table that Jack must have brought in, but apart from that, the flat was empty.

  The enormity of everything hit me at once. I didn’t do crying. I’d eventually managed to cry a little over losing Albert, which was understandable. I’d shed a few tears when I’d told Rich we needed to break up but had put a stop to that as soon as I’d realised. That too was justified as I’d been with Rich for a decade and a half. But crying over a man I’d only known for less than a year leaving me? I’d never imagined I would. Even though I knew I loved him, I would have assumed that I could just soldier on. But it wasn’t that simple. With Lorenzo, it was as if I didn’t have control of my emotions.

  This was too much to take in. I crashed down on the bed, sobbing uncontrollably. How could he leave me now? I needed him more than ever. We needed him.

  I must have cried myself to sleep, as when I woke up and fished my phone from my bag, it was 10.30 p.m.

  The fact that I’d cried this much meant this was bad. It must be the hormones and changes in my body. Or maybe it was the emotions I’d suppressed from Alber
t’s passing, my break-up with Rich and Lorenzo leaving, all rolled into one. Either way, I needed my friends. I had to speak to someone.

  Bella. I’ll call Bella. It’s still too raw with Roxy. No answer. Shit. Maybe she’s looking after Paul? Or sleeping?

  My eyes were stinging. Everything was so blurry. All this upset couldn’t be good for the baby. Thinking about that just made me feel even more emotional.

  My phone started ringing. Thank God. Bella had called back. Although I could barely see, I clicked on the green phone icon to answer the call.

  ‘Sophia! I wasn’t sure if you’d answer. It’s been so long since we’ve spoken. And, well, I was thinking about you this evening. Well, I think about you all the time, but particularly this evening, and so I thought, what the hell! Sod this messaging nonsense. Throw caution to the wind. Be adventurous. Call her!’

  It was Charlie. This wasn’t a good time. In fact, it was the worst time possible.

  ‘Hi, Ch-Charlie,’ I said, trying to compose myself and not let on that I’d been crying my eyes out for hours.

  ‘Sophia? Are you okay?’ he said. ‘Are you—are you crying?’

  I couldn’t help it, I just lost it and started bawling like a five-year-old who’d just been told there’d be no presents or birthday cake at her party.

  ‘Oh my goodness, Sophia,’ he said, sounding flustered and unsure how to respond. ‘I didn’t mean to upset you.’

  ‘It’s not—it’s not you Charlie. S-sorry,’ I said, trying and failing to pull myself together. ‘He’s left me, Charlie. He’s gone?’

  ‘Who’s left you, Sophia?’ asked Charlie. ‘Where are you? Are you at home?’

  ‘N-no!’ I stuttered. ‘I’m at his place and he’s gone. He’s left us.’

  ‘What’s the address?’ he demanded. ‘I’m coming to get you right now!’

  Somehow, Charlie had managed to decipher the garbled address I’d given him in between my embarrassing meltdown, as, in what couldn’t have been more than forty-five minutes, he was ringing the buzzer, then running up the stairs.