While we ate, the conversation drifted from one topic to another, though mostly focusing on the baby, uni, and work, until Mum touched on something that’d been on my mind for the past few days. With a parent-like uncanny knack, she knew I’d been thinking of Kian and my changing feelings for him.
I hadn’t been able to get him out of my head since the weekend he’d helped me move, and I still wasn’t sure if the feelings I was having were because he was the baby’s dad. Mum listened with rapt attention and a look in her eyes as I prattled on.
“And then when he realised it was the sausage and egg bap making me feel sick, he threw it away and made sure the house didn’t smell of it. Bless his heart. Then later, after I was all moved into the new place, he stopped for pizza and we watched a movie together. He even promised to send me his sister’s Step Up DVD. Isn’t that the sweetest?” I paused for breath and caught the way she was gazing at me. “What?”
“Nothing, dear. I’m just wondering when you’re going to admit you’re falling for him.”
“Don’t be daft, Mum.”
“Come on, Megan. It’s obvious from the way you talk about him that you feel something for him.”
“Of course I do. He’s the father of my baby, but that’s as far as it goes. Even though he’s promised to support me through the pregnancy and be a part of his child’s life, he also made it clear that he isn’t looking for a relationship. Despite having a child on the way, his career is his priority, and he doesn’t want to settle down anytime soon.”
I wasn’t sure who I was trying to convince.
“And you’re okay with that? You’re all right playing happy families one day and then accepting he doesn’t want to settle down the next day? Because I wouldn’t be.”
Shaking my head, I shrugged. I’d known on the night we slept together it wouldn’t be a regular thing, and if I hadn’t got pregnant, I probably wouldn’t have given Kian a second thought. Sure, I was attracted to him, but we were still getting to know each other, and with only six months before the baby was born, it would be difficult to form any sort of relationship.
“Just because we slept together once and we’re having a baby together, doesn’t mean I’m looking for a relationship,” I said finally. “I couldn’t be happier about the baby, but I still want some independence. Being in a relationship would get in the way of that, in ways having a baby won’t.”
“And will your ‘independence’ and not being tied down in a relationship be enough when you’re left holding a screaming baby, and he’s got some busty blonde on his arm?”
“Mum, I told you. I never wanted or expected more than one night with Kian. As long as he keeps any promises he makes to our baby, he can see all the busty blondes he likes,” I said, though the thought of seeing him with someone else while I stayed at home with our baby made my muscles tighten and my jaw clench. I put the reaction down to the fact that I was worried what effect Kian seeing someone would have on his relationship with the baby.
Could I put my baby through that?
I hated the thought of our baby seeing their mum and dad at each other’s throats because we’d gotten together and it hadn’t worked out. Growing up, I’d seen too many of my friends suffering because of their parents splitting up. It was something I’d promised myself I’d never do to my own child when I had one.
“Whatever you say, dear. Just mark my words. Once that baby arrives, everything will change.”
Later that evening, with the comments Mum made earlier in the back of my mind, I idly flicked through the telly channels, looking for a distraction. When I reached the sports stations, I paused on a talk show when I caught sight of Kian on screen. Curious to see what he was like in work mode, I watched the adverts and waited for his segment to continue.
I stared at the screen in silence, absorbing everything that was going on. It was my first time seeing him in the cage, and the sight of him violently hitting another person made my stomach quiver and my mouth went dry. He moved too quickly; the way his fists hammered down on the guy made me dizzy.
As the interview progressed, I could see Kian getting more agitated and angry by the second. I didn’t know if it was part of the plan for the interviewer to be purposely hostile, but he kept cutting Kian off and asking questions that were bound to wind him up.
When the interviewer tried to stand, Kian shoved him back in his seat. “You, Matthews, you’re gonna be disappointed, ‘cos when I face him, I’m going to f***ing kill him.”
The show abruptly cut to the adverts, and I was left staring at the screen in shock. What the hell had just happened? Why was Kian, a man who a few days previously had gone to the effort of mailing me his sister’s Step Up DVD and some baby clothes his mum had knitted, attacking a TV interviewer? Was this what he was like in work mode? Was it normal for him to lose his cool so quickly and then get both physically and verbally abusive with a virtual stranger?
Still stunned by what I’d witnessed, I thought back over all the interactions we’d had in the past few months for any hints that this was ‘normal’ behaviour for him.
Since the scan, he’d been nothing but a perfect gentleman and doting father-to-be. But I remembered what he’d said about breaking that guy’s arm, and the arguments we’d had over the paternity test
Memories of his icy blue eyes boring into me flashed through my mind, and I let out an involuntary shudder thinking about how his every muscle had tightened with rage.
He obviously had a short fuse and a history of violence. Hell, that’s probably one of the reasons he’d become a fighter; to let out all that pent-up tension.
I turned off the telly and sank down on the sofa, my head falling into my hands.
Was this really the type of man I wanted involved in my life? In my baby’s life? Would these outbursts keep happening, and could the baby and I be at risk?
Not knowing the answers to any of the questions, I dug out my phone and decided to call the one person who might be able to offer me some insight into what Kian was really like – Emilia Silva.
Emilia and I met at Belly Busters a few days after I called her. It was becoming my go-to meeting place. Plus, even though the little one had gone off sausage and egg sandwiches, I was now craving cheese and Marmite on toast, and Belly Busters did the best around.
Despite it only being the second time I’d seen Emilia, she greeted me with a friendly smile and a warm embrace.
“Megan. It’s good to see you,” she said, releasing me from the hug and looking down at the growing baby bump. “You’re looking well. Pregnancy suits you.”
“Thanks.” I felt my cheeks burn and looked away. It was the first time since I’d started showing that I felt happy about my appearance and changing figure. “You look great too.”
If there was one thing about Emilia to be jealous of, it was her ability to look effortlessly beautiful. For a woman in her forties, she still looked fantastic, but unlike a lot of women with rich husbands, it wasn’t in a way that suggested she spent hours in the bathroom every morning, or visited the salon at least once a week. Instead, her long dark hair was tied into a plait that trailed down her back. She wore natural make-up, a simple t-shirt, and black jeans that were tucked into biker boots. The leather jacket and helmet she had under her arm revealed her passion for bikes.
We sat down and ordered lunch, and as we waited for it to arrive, Emilia and I caught up. She asked me how the pregnancy was going and how I was finding things since moving into my new flat, and she told me how Davi was, and about the garage she owned.
I tactically left any mention of Kian out of the conversation. I still wasn’t sure how to feel about what I’d seen on telly, or how to ask Emilia about it.
We fell silent when our food came, and we were busy eating, but once the waitress had cleared away our plates, and we were finishing off our drinks, Emilia asked why I’d called her.
“Something’s bothering you?”
I sighed and looked down at my cup. “Am I
that easy to read?”
“No, but Kian has a habit of causing trouble. So tell me, what’s he done to piss you off this time?”
I took another deep breath. This was the last chance I had to back out of bringing up the interview. I knew I couldn’t, though. I’d never be able to relax with these doubts on my mind. “Well, he hasn’t actually done anything. Not to me, at least. It’s more something I saw about him.”
“If it’s those ridiculous tabloids, you’re best off ignoring them. I’d go insane if I believed every story I read about Davi.”
I laughed uneasily, empathizing with how hard it must be for the partner of someone so well-known, always having to see stories about their lover or themselves splashed all over the newspapers. I wondered how I’d cope if I ever came across a story about Kian, or God forbid, our baby.
“Don’t worry. I haven’t been reading any tabloids. It was actually something I saw on telly.”
I relayed the story about the interview, the questions Kian had been asked, and his reaction. Emilia listened intently, never taking her eyes off me. When I’d finished, she let out a frustrated sigh.
“Jesus Christ. I thought he was dealing with this. Davi’s going to blow a gasket when he finds out about this.”
“This is something Kian does regularly?” I held my breath as I waited for her answer, my heart racing.
“It used to be. He’s calmed since finding out about the baby.”
“Are these violent outbursts something I should worry about?” I remembered the night we’d argued about the paternity test. A cold, hard feeling settled in the pit of my stomach. “Are me or the baby in danger?”
“He’d never knowingly hurt someone he cares about.” Emilia’s expression softened, and she squeezed my hand. “But I won’t lie to you. He does have anger issues.”
My stomach turned over, and I thought for a moment I was going to bring my lunch back up. “But he’s getting help with these issues, right?
“I think so, but I don’t know for sure. Davi never went into too much detail. It’s something you’ll have to speak with him about.”
“You’re sure that’s a good idea? He isn’t likely to go off on one, is he? He’s never told me about his anger issues. I can’t see him being happy that I saw him explode on telly, or that I called you about it.”
Emilia fell silent for a moment, chewing on her bottom lip as she thought. “You’ve got a point there. I’m sure he wouldn’t intentionally lose his temper with you, but he doesn’t take criticism well. He doesn’t like people discussing his life behind his back.”
“Yeah, I get that. Especially when he has to deal with the papers scrutinizing his every move.”
“Right. So maybe it’s best if I tell Davi about our little chat, and have him talk to Kian.”
“If you think that would work.” I tilted my head to the side and rubbed the back of my neck.
I’d called Emilia hoping for reassurance, but instead my fears had been made worse. I understood no one liked thinking people were talking about them, and it was never easy to admit your faults, but anger issues seemed like a real problem, and something Kian should have told me about. But how would you casually slip into conversation that you have anger issues?
Maybe Emilia was right, and her talking to Davi, and him speaking to Kian was best. She did know them both better than I did.
I must have fallen silent for a while, because she was looking at me with concern, and reached across the table for my hands again.
“I’m sorry. I’m probably not helping, am I? You called me up for advice, and I go and make it worse. If it makes you feel better, Kian really has changed a lot since he found out about the baby. He’s trying to put his past troubles behind him.”
“Well, that’s good to know, I guess.” The tears prickled behind my eyes, and the heavy feeling lifted from my stomach. “But if you could talk to Davi about this, and get him to convince Kian to call me, I’d really appreciate it.”
“I’ll do my best.”
“Thanks.”
“Anytime. You and Kian are good kids, and I want you all to be happy.”
I smiled and nodded. That was all I wanted too.
I tried to keep myself busy, and my mind off Kian, in the days following my meet up with Emilia. More than once, I reached for my phone and was about to call him, but I knew it was best if Davi spoke to him first. Hopefully by the time Kian and I discussed his anger problems, he’d be calm enough that we could talk about it properly without an argument.
Thankfully, I had plenty to distract me in the form of my uni work. My degree was coming to an end, and I had to make sure my design portfolio was in perfect condition for when it was presented to the moderation board. Taking advantage of a free period, I went to the library to complete an essay on how digital media had evolved over the past five years, and what changes I foresaw going into the future. I threw myself into finishing the essay so I could add it to my portfolio, which was made up of similar written pieces and examples of my design work.
My leading piece was the nursery decal I’d designed, which I planned on using in my end of degree show, where we all had to present something to an impartial board of adjudicators. This meant, not only did I have to finalise the physical drawing, but I’d then have to have the decal printed out to scale on vinyl. In the exhibit hall, each of us would be set up with our own booths to showcase our work. I planned on turning mine into a mini nursery that would show how the decal brought together any room design and gave it an overall theme. Some people might consider it cheating using something that I’d originally designed for personal use, but the best advice always said ‘work with what you know’ and I’d spent so long poring over baby room decorations in the lead up to my move that I felt like an expert.
I’d been working on my assignment for about an hour, when Stacey found me. “Fancy a coffee before class?”
“Throw in a slice of carrot cake and you’re on.”
I saved my progress on the computer, gathered up by belongings, and then we walked down to the canteen. Stacey bought two coffees (decaf for me) and two slices of carrot cake, and then we settled down at a table.
“Oh God, I hope this doesn’t make me fatter,” I said before taking a massive bite. “Because I could never give this up. This is the best thing ever.”
Stacey swallowed her mouthful, nodded, and giggled. “Better than sex?”
“Hmm, well, I haven’t actually had sex in almost four months, and the last time resulted in this…” I rested my hand on top of my baby bump.
“Yeah, but last time was with Kian, and you and I both know how athletic fighters can be.”
“Don’t even go there.” Thinking of Kian in that way was the last thing I needed after my recent conversation with Emilia.
In fact, if one good thing had come from seeing him on TV, it was that the strange feelings I’d developed for him since he helped me move had eased off. In my mind, he’d gone back to being just Kian, the father of my baby. I wasn’t ready to open that can of worms again.
Stacey had other ideas. “Oh, I’m going there. You still haven’t told me what was going on the other week.”
I shrugged. “I dunno. Hormones? It doesn’t matter, because nothing is going to happen between us.”
Stacey put her mug down and leaned forward, staring at me intently. “How do you know? Has he said something?”
“Not exactly, no. But something happened…” I told her about the interview, and then my chat with Emilia. “And well, all that coupled with what he said about it only being a one night thing makes me certain nothing will happen, even if I wanted it to.”
“Do you want it to?”
“Does it matter? There’re bigger things at stake, Stace. I need to know his anger problem isn’t going to be an issue for me and Bubba.”
“Yeah, of course. And I’m sure it’ll be okay. I mean, Emilia did say he was getting help, and he’s been different since you got pregnant, right?�
�
I sighed and gulped down the last of my coffee. “I guess, but I can’t get the sound of his voice as he threatened to kill Matthews out of my head. He seemed so serious.”
“Well, fighting is serious. If he doesn’t think he’s going to win, he could go in there and get his arse kicked. This is his profession. He has to take it seriously.”
“Sure, but Josh isn’t like that, is he? I mean, he doesn’t go off on interviewers and have angry outburst does he? This is more than taking your job seriously. This is a proper mental health problem.”
“Okay, maybe it is, but he’s never hurt you. You can’t hold him having problems against him. Everyone has problems. As long as he’s getting help.” Stacey finished her drink and reached across the table to take my hand in hers. “It’ll be okay, Meg.”
“Since when did you become his number one fan? I thought you were on my side.”
“I am on your side, but every story has two sides. You two have worked so hard in the last few weeks to get where you are. I don’t want you to give up on that yet.”
I opened my mouth to argue, but no words came out. Instead, I rubbed my chin as I thought over everything. Stacey was right. Everyone had their own problems, and I couldn’t hold Kian’s against him. I definitely couldn’t make a judgement until I’d spoken to him. I just hoped he called soon.
CHAPTER TEN
My phone rang for the eighth time that morning. I switched it to silent, threw it across the room, and carried on shoving clothes into my gym bag.
The disastrous interview with Elliot ‘the cock’ Johnson had aired, and even though the TV station had made a big deal out of it, running the story that I’d blown up on TV on their website and all over social media, the rest of the world wasn’t so pleased.
Sponsors, Davi, Taylor, Brownie, my parents; everyone wanted to speak to me. The only person who hadn’t called was Megan. I didn’t know if I should be relived or worried, but figured as she didn’t watch sports, she wouldn’t have heard … yet. It was only a matter of time before the interview made it to the mainstream news, and I should have called her before it did, but I just had to get away.
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