I look down and realise I’m still in my pyjamas, with bed hair and unbrushed teeth. Meanwhile James is in a cashmere cream sweater that drops sexily showing off her delicate tanned shoulder. She’s so naturally glam.
‘Oh, hi! I didn’t realise you’d be here so early.’
His mum curls her lip up in distaste, clutching at her Louis Vuitton bag like she’s going to catch something from me.
‘Honestly, Charlotte.’ She lowers her voice to a whisper. ‘Arthur won’t want to come home to this. Go.’ She shoos me towards the bedroom. ‘Go smarten yourself up.’
I grit my teeth and look to Arthur. He shrugs as if to say, ‘sorry’ but doesn’t say anything to her. Doesn’t jump to defend my honour like I know Josh would. I know it’s unfair to compare him to Josh. It’s just pretty hard not to.
‘I’ve got to go, I’ll leave you ladies to it.’
He’s leaving me here with them?
He’s out the door before I can protest. Damn, he’s not even here on weekends. I run into the bedroom and throw on a pale grey lounge set, run a brush through my hair and quickly brush my teeth.
I look at myself in the mirror, ready to face the sharks. I’ll do.
I plaster on a fake smile and go into the main room. They’re already sat at the breakfast bar, pieces of paper laid out in front of them.
‘Would you like any tea or coffee?’ I ask, trying to sound helpful. Really I just feel like a member of staff. His mum does act like the queen.
‘I’m fine thank you,’ James says with a smile, dismissively.
‘And I’m only drinking chamomile right now,’ his mum says without looking at me.
I make myself a coffee and join them, feeling like the awkward new girl at school.
‘Right,’ James says, shuffling her papers. ‘We’ve already discussed a Moon and Stars theme, but we didn’t talk about a venue.’
‘I’m still not sure about the theme,’ Linda muses. ‘Does it scream tacky?’
James shakes her head adamantly. ‘Not the way we’re going to do it. It’ll be classy, trust me.’
Linda smiles back at her fondly. ‘Oh, I do trust you, James.’ She looks briefly at me in distaste.
Do not cry, Charlotte. It’s no big deal. She’s just a woman. Not everyone is going to like you and you need to be okay with that.
‘Good, so, the venue,’ James says, as if conducting a board meeting. ‘I was thinking the Corinthia hotel, but then I wondered if we’d fit everyone in.’
I splutter my coffee. ‘How many people are we talking here? I just assumed you’d want to have a few people round here?’
James scoffs a laugh. ‘Don’t be ridiculous, Charlotte. This is your baby shower. It needs to be celebrated properly.’
‘Especially since Arthur won’t let us throw you an engagement party,’ Linda adds with a pointed stare.
He won’t? Why wouldn’t he want an engagement party? But then I suppose he doesn’t want to advertise that we’re newly engaged while I’m pregnant. Or maybe he doesn’t want to celebrate it because it’s not true.
‘So how many people are we talking?’ I ask, my temperature skyrocketing.
‘Well, let’s see,’ Linda muses out loud. ‘I want Marge and the girls to be there.’
‘Sorry, who is Marge?’ I interrupt. I’ve never even heard of her.
She glares at me. ‘They’re family friends. Women that have known Arthur years.’
She accentuates the word years, as if to rub in that I’m just a new novelty. Someone that doesn’t know ‘her Arthur’ at all, let alone well enough to be having a baby with him.
My muscles tighten with worry. This baby shower is getting carried away.
‘I was hoping for a smaller more intimate affair.’ I try to straighten myself up.
His mum scoffs. ‘There will be no such intimate affair with my son. You’ve already seen the public interest in him. Imagine if they found out we held it in some back room. We’d be the laughing stock.’
Tad dramatic.
‘Okay.’ I sigh, quickly relenting. It’s easier to try and keep her happy. God knows I need as many points as possible. ‘My mum will want to come too.’
James nods. ‘I assumed. And your friend Eloise. Do you have any other friends you’d like to invite?’
‘Well, seen as we’re doing a big thing, yes. I’ll make a list.’
I mean, why not show off that I’m having a baby. Especially if it’s going to be some Pinterest worthy big affair. I would never imagine something like this normally.
‘Great, so we’ll book the ballroom at the Corinthia and send invitations immediately.’
They start talking amongst themselves and it’s as if I’m not even here. For the first time in my life I understand what it means to be in a room with people but to still feel lonely. I just hope this isn’t an insight into my future.
Sunday 8th November
Arthur
I’m already up, showered and dressed by the time Charlotte opens her eyes. She’s adorable when she sleeps. All spread out like a cute little starfish. This close I can inspect the freckles on her cheeks without her asking me why I’m staring.
‘Are you watching me sleep?’ she asks groggily, pushing her hair away from her face. I can’t help but smile at her. Busted. ‘Because that’s creepy.’
‘I never claimed it wasn’t,’ I answer as I sit down next to her. ‘How did you sleep?’
‘Ugh, like a log. For some reason I always sleep better with you.’ Her eyes widen and her cheeks redden when she realises what she’s said.
It’s amazing to feel so needed. I’ve always feared relationships because I didn’t want anyone to rely on me, but with Charlotte I want that trust. Especially because she seems so hesitant to give it to me.
‘I mean… just having a warm body, you know.’
I clutch at my heart. ‘And there I was thinking it’s because you liked me.’
‘Hey,’ she points down at her little swollen stomach, ‘it’s pretty obvious I liked you at some point.’
I snort a laugh. ‘But not anymore?’
She starts fidgeting. I hate making her feel uncomfortable, but I really want to hear the answer to this question. The last thing I want is for her to feel like she has to have affection for me just because she’s having my baby. But each day that I grow more attached to her the more terrified I am that she’ll leave.
‘Anyway, I thought today we could maybe pop out to lunch?’
Make up for all of my bad behaviour.
She sighs. ‘Yeah, but can we just go somewhere casual this time?’
Yet again I’m reminded how special and unique she is. I’m so lucky she came barrelling into my life.
I nod. ‘That’s fine by me.’
That’s how we find ourselves at an American burger bar in Hampstead. We’re sat in a huge green booth facing each other. The smell of grease is in the air, but I know the food is good here. It’s my go to for cheat day. She looks gorgeous in a tight burnt orange dress, which shows off the bump, a loose cream cardigan over it. I love when people can clearly see she’s pregnant; the cave man in me wants everyone to know my baby is in there.
‘So how is work really going?’ I ask as we wait for our food.
She shrugs, but I can see from her guarded eyes that there’s more to what she’s about to say.
‘Fine. Stressful, but fine.’
‘That’s what I’m worried about,’ I admit. I hate the thought of her being stressed and I know for a fact that Roger can be a miserable bastard.
‘Do you think you’re up to it?’ I ask carefully.
She scoffs, narrowing her eyes. ‘You don’t think I can handle the job?’ I sense hurt in her voice.
‘No, that’s not it at all. I’m just worried it’s going to stress you out. Stress out the baby.’
Her face drops even further. ‘I’m not putting the baby in danger. If I thought that I was, even for one second, I’d do something.’
> Oh god, this isn’t going well.
‘No, of course,’ I quickly say, trying to calm her. Everything is coming out wrong. ‘I’m just worried is all.’
She raises her chin defiantly. ‘Well, there’s nothing to worry about. I need to work so there’s no point even discussing this.’
‘Well…’
‘Well what?’ She frowns back at me.
I can’t help but become a caveman around her. I just want to drag her away to safety where she can grow our baby in peace and tranquillity.
‘You could always take early maternity leave.’
Her jaw tenses. Uh-oh. Wrong thing to say.
‘Arthur, I’ve only been there five minutes. It would be highly unprofessional. Not to mention stupid. How would I cope with no money so early? I want to have the full year off with the baby, ideally.’
Where has this come from? Why can’t she lean on me? God knows I can’t do a lot of things, but the one thing I can do is financially support us.
‘You keep talking like you’re some single mother,’ I snap. It’s starting to get to me. ‘We’re in this as a team. I can support you both.’
She turns her nose up at this. ‘No offence but I don’t want to be supported. I’m not some little trophy wife to be kept at home.’
‘No, that’s not what I meant,’ I quickly interrupt, but apparently she’s on a roll.
‘I want to be able to earn my own money, not have to ask you for permission every time I want to buy a chocolate bar.’
Who starts an argument over a chocolate bar?
‘That’s not what I’m saying.’
‘So what are you saying?’ she challenges, her jaw hard.
‘Well…’ Shit, she’s got me confused. How is it I can be questioned by the Prime Minister and can think on my feet, but she throws me completely for a loop with these mental mood swings. ‘I’m just saying that it’s an option.’
She crosses her arms over her chest. ‘Well, thanks, but no thanks.’
Our burgers arrive, thank God. It’s the first time she’s smiled in a solid five minutes.
‘So, how is the planning for the baby shower going?’ I ask, eager to change the subject. I bite into my burger. I’m interested to find out her opinion of James too. God knows she’s trying.
She bites into her burger, as if playing for time. While chewing her face drops, eyes widening, her lips twist.
‘Oh god,’ she barely whispers, putting the burger back on the plate.
‘What’s wrong?’ I ask, leaning over to her. Is the chicken raw?
She opens up her burger. ‘They put mayo in it.’
Dammit, we specifically told the waitress no mayonnaise. A tear drops down her cheek, quickly followed by another. Oh my god. They’ve pushed her over the edge with mayonnaise.
‘Don’t worry. I’ll sort it.’
I summon the waitress over. Damn this restaurant making her upset. It’s the last thing I need right now.
‘Sorry, but we specifically told you she didn’t want mayonnaise and yet it still came with it. What’s going on here?’
She grimaces apologetically. ‘I’m sorry, sir.’ She looks to Charlotte. ‘Would you like a replacement?’
‘No.’ Her voice breaks on a sob. ‘It’s all ruined now.’
The waitress’ eyes widen in panic. ‘It would be no problem. I can ask the chef to push it to the front of the queue.’
‘I said I don’t want it,’ she sobs, so loudly we’re drawing attention from the other diners.
Way to make a scene. I’m panicking now, my neck hot. I don’t do well with weeping females. Never have.
‘Which is why you should have ensured it was correct the first time,’ I practically growl. Damn woman is trying to ruin my life.
‘Don’t shout at her,’ Charlotte snaps, quickly turning her anger on me. ‘Is that how you’re going to shout at our child?’
My mouth drops open. Who is this aggressive woman before me? I sure as hell don’t recognise her. And insinuating I’m going to be some sort of abusive father. It hurts.
‘Charlotte.’ My own cheeks are reddening now.
She stands up, throwing her napkin to the table. ‘I’m going home.’ She turns and storms out.
I stand, take out some cash to leave and then chase after her. I catch up to her in only a few short strides. Lucky for me she only has little legs.
‘Charlotte, please.’
‘Please, what?’ she shouts over the busy traffic, tears falling thick and fast down her cheeks.
I run my hand through my hair. ‘Please just calm down so we can talk about this.’
‘That’s my problem, isn’t it, Arthur?’ Her chin wobbles. ‘I’m just a lowly educated, hysterical woman ruled by my emotions.’
‘I never said that!’ I shout
She shakes her head. ‘You didn’t have to. It’s obvious.’
‘I just think we need to talk this through rationally. You might have grown up in a household of arguing but I definitely didn’t.’
Her face drops. I regret it the moment it leaves my lips.
‘Arguing?’ Her lip trembles. ‘How would you know about me growing up around arguing?’
Shit, shit, shit.
‘You… you said that they were divorced, I just assumed, I guess.’ I can’t look her in the eye. I’m such a shit liar.
She studies my face, her eyebrows fused together.
‘Tell me the truth, Arthur. I think I at least deserve that.’
I put my hands in my pockets and stare at my feet.
‘You looked into me, didn’t you?’
I look up to her face. ‘Yes, but only because I needed to know if you had any skeletons in your closet.’
Her face falls. ‘You couldn’t just ask me?’
‘Well…’
‘You could have, but you didn’t know me from Adam.” Her chest hitches. “You didn’t know if you could trust me.’ She mashes her lips together, nodding in resigned understanding.
God, I hate that I’ve hurt her.
‘Please, Charlotte. Understand that—’
‘I do understand,’ she interrupts. ‘Why don’t you go and have a baby with James? She’s far more suited to your needs.’
Where the hell did that come from? She starts walking away again.
I catch up to her. ‘Charlotte, what does this have to do with James?’
She sniffs. ‘Everything and nothing, Arthur. Everything and nothing.’ She turns and walks away, only stopping to shout back ‘I’m going home. Please give me some time on my own.’
Well fuck. And to think I just wanted a nice lunch.
Charlotte
I feel like a total fucking idiot for so many reasons. I mean, first I cried over mayonnaise. I was damn starving and I still decided to throw a hissy fit and storm out of the restaurant.
I also feel like a fool because what I said had a lot of truth in it. In Arthur’s world I’m always going to feel like the lesser person. The thick girlfriend. Even though I’m not even his girlfriend, I’m just his fake fiancé who also happens to be carrying his baby. God, if this baby wasn’t in my stomach he wouldn’t have given me a second look after our night together.
Having him look into my background has just confirmed all of my worries. He doesn’t trust me and probably never will. I’ll always be the woman that trapped him with a baby.
I feel such a fool for wishing things could be different. We’re polar opposites and it’s never going to work. He’s suited to someone like James. I should try a bit harder to be civil with her if she’s going to inevitably become my child’s step mum. God, just the idea of that has my heart hurting.
I need to get it through my thick head that the best I can hope for with him is for a friendship. A civil friendship so that we can both care for our baby in peace. I don’t want my baby growing up around arguments like I did. Fearing its parent’s moods.
It’s he or she who I should be worrying about. Not whether I have
bloody mayo in my burger.
The dress I wore today is far too tight to be comfortable, I just want to get changed into my flannel pjs and slob on the sofa watching some sad romantic comedies to give myself a good cry. Only I can’t do that. This is his flat and he doesn’t want to come home to that. Not only that, but I don’t feel like this is enough of my home to be able to do that.
I still feel like a guest in this place. I go into the bedroom and change into my pyjamas, flicking the TV on and deciding to settle down in here. At least I’m out of the way. The TV is on a news channel and they’re droning on about worrying terrorism links found in the UK.
Then it dawns on me that this is probably one of the reasons Arthur is so stressed. The man is under so much pressure and then he’s having to deal with my mood swings. That’s it. Its decided. I have to get it through my head that this arrangement we have is purely of flat mates who happen to be having a baby together.
I promise myself that I won’t make this man’s life harder than it already is.
19
Arthur
I went into work, not knowing how much time alone she wants. Whether she could stand to look at me. She must think after meeting James that James is my ideal woman and she’s just the consolation prize. She couldn’t be further from the truth. But we’re not even together. Not properly.
She’s been willing to lie to her friends and family about us. I am asking a lot of her and the poor woman is pregnant with my kid. She must have all sorts of hormones jumping around that body. I google the size of the baby and read that its already the size of a zucchini. Jesus. I read on to discover that at this stage she’s probably suffering from heartburn, trouble sleeping, swelling, general discomfort and shortness of breath. The poor woman. I need to be more careful with what I say to her and how I say it.
By the time I get back to the apartment its early evening. I stick my head round the door expecting to find her on the sofa. She’s not there. Panic lances through my veins at the sudden thought that she could have left and gone back to that house share in Watford. The thought of not seeing her until our child is born has my chest squeezing so tight it’s a struggle to breathe.
Whitehall Baby: A Surprise Pregnancy, Fake Relationship Romantic Comedy Perfect for Chick Lit Fans Page 13
