Hired Girlfriend, Pregnant Fiancée?

by Nina Milne

  ‘I think I’d better inspect exactly how you look,’ he murmured, and now he tugged the zipper down.

  Desire washed over her and without hesitation she turned and shimmied out of the dress...

  Half an hour later Gabby shook her head as she tugged the dress back on, grabbed a pair of heels and slipped them on, too. ‘I can’t believe we did that. If we’re late it is all your fault.’ She regarded her reflection and groaned. ‘Do you think they’ll guess that we just...?’ She waved a hand at the rumpled sheets.

  Zander buttoned his shirt. ‘We won’t be late—and if they do, they do. It all adds verisimilitude to the charade.’

  ‘Yes. Of course.’ All inclination to laugh left her. Had he instigated the whole thing to enhance the charade?

  His blue-grey eyes held concern. ‘Gabs... That wasn’t planned. It just happened.’

  ‘I get that.’

  But she wasn’t sure she did—suddenly wasn’t sure if she was overthinking, on the way to insecurity or neediness.

  Rising, she glanced at her watch. ‘We’d better go. I don’t know London that well but, according to my phone app, it will take us at least forty-five minutes to get to Gemma’s.’

  In fact, the journey across London took just under that, and they pulled up outside Gemma’s three-storey London house at the same time as Julia and her children.

  ‘Hey, little bro,’ she said.

  But before Zander could reply, Freddy and Heidi tumbled out of the car.

  ‘Uncle Zan-Zan! Look at my new game—it helps me read and it means I get to use a tablet.’

  ‘Uncle Zan-Zan, tell Mum that isn’t fair.’ The little girl folded her arms. ‘I think I should have one, too.’

  Zander grinned, and as both children ran towards him he scooped Heidi up. ‘You’ll have to manage without, Heidi. How about I play a game with you later?’

  Heidi squealed with laughter as he tickled her, and nodded. ‘Hide and seek, Uncle Zan-Zan—and Monopoly. Please.’ Turning, she looked across at Gabby. ‘Are you Gabby?’

  Gabby nodded.

  ‘Are you Uncle Zan-Zan’s girlfriend?’

  ‘Yes, sweetheart, she is—and, now, enough questions. We need to go inside.’

  With that, Julia swept everyone towards the front door, and minutes later they were inside. Unlike Zander’s apartment, the house had a lived-in feel and a definite sense of personal taste. Gemma clearly favoured bold abstracts and warm wooden flooring. The hall held a collage of family photographs in black and white, and for a sudden moment Gabby felt a sense of aloneness, a stab of emotion that she acknowledged as envy.

  Before she could dwell further, she saw Laura Grosvenor heading towards her. ‘Gabby, how lovely to see you. You look fantastic—positively glowing! The sun has done you both good and I love your dress.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  Gabby returned the hug and again emotion swelled inside her—a sense of being an outsider looking in. She wanted this—the clear affection that existed in this family, the easy camaraderie, the jokes and the banter. Yearning tugged inside her, but she blinked it away. One day she would find Mr Right and she’d create this—have children, laughter, family holidays, Christmases with a turkey large enough to feed an army.

  Once they were all seated around the large wooden table in the state-of-the-art kitchen, Gemma grinned at Gabby. ‘OK. So tell us all about Sintra. Was it fantastic?’

  ‘It was absolutely amazing,’ Gabby said, and now there was no need to act her part. All she had to do was tell the truth. ‘Magical, in fact.’

  ‘We even went surfing.’ Zander held his arms out and gestured for applause. ‘Gabby and I caught our first waves.’

  ‘No way.’

  ‘Yes, way.’

  ‘And how many hours did he spend on his laptop or talking to the office?’

  ‘None,’ Zander said.

  ‘Definitely no way.’

  ‘Yup. Gabby will vouch for me.’ Zander was relaxed, his arm around her shoulders, and she felt a bubble of happiness because for a moment she truly felt she belonged.

  ‘It’s the truth. And he even came home early from the office yesterday to meet me.’

  ‘In that case we all need to drink to you, Gabby.’ Gemma rose to her feet and lifted her glass. ‘To Gabby, who has achieved the impossible. Cheers!’

  And when Gaby saw the look of happiness on his mother’s face, she understood why Zander had initiated the whole illusion.

  The hours flew by. They ate a delicious simple home-cooked lasagne and a green salad, followed by a sumptuous cake that Gemma happily admitted was from the local patisserie. A boisterous game of hide-and-seek ensued, followed by a fiercely competitive game of Monopoly. Then the children were allowed to watch a film whilst the adults sat on the circle of sofas in the enormous living area.

  ‘So,’ Gemma said. ‘Have you bought a dress for the wedding yet?’

  ‘Not yet,’ Gabby said and smiled. ‘But that’s not important—it’s your dress that everyone will be interested in.’

  Gemma shook her head. ‘You wouldn’t believe the fuss—all because Alessio can drive a car fast.’

  Zander laughed, ‘That is a master understatement.’

  ‘Pah!’ Gemma waved a dismissive hand. ‘Anyway, the point I was making is that the dress has been a massive drama. Loads of designers want the job! One up-and-coming woman—Hannah Colter—even sent me a free sample dress. Not a wedding dress, but it’s beautiful. Actually—’ she looked Gabby over with a critical eye ‘—it would be perfect for you.’

  ‘I couldn’t possibly...’

  ‘Yes, you could. Hannah would be stoked at the publicity. Just come and look.’

  Gabby glanced at Zander but he laughed and shook his head. ‘No use appealing to me—I’ve never been able to get Gem to give up on an idea.’

  Succumbing to the inevitable, Gabby followed Gemma up the stairs to a large and messy spare bedroom.

  ‘This is the wedding room—or wedding dumping ground might be a better description.’ Gemma headed to a large wardrobe, tugged the doors open, reached inside and pulled out a transparent zippered dress bag, through which Gabby could see the sparkle of shimmering material.

  Qualms began to surface. Instinct informed her that the dress was most definitely not suitable—not her type, not her style. Not her. Too visible.

  Oblivious to her dilemma, Gemma pulled the dress out and Gabby held back a small gasp. Hundreds of adjectives flooded her brain. Magical, shimmery, delicate, gorgeous.

  ‘Right. Let’s try it on,’ Gemma stated.

  And somehow, ten minutes later, Gabby was wearing it, staring at her reflection with shell-shocked eyes. Sleek and sleeveless, the dress left her shoulders and neckline bare, emphasising the slenderness of her waist before falling in a silvery, sparkling, sculpted waterfall to the floor.

  ‘I...’

  ‘You look like a fairy-tale princess. Decision made. It’s yours.’

  But this wasn’t who she was—clad in designer gear, glittering for every eye to see. And yet... The wedding would mark the end of her time with Zander and, damn it—how did she want him to remember her? Like this or muted and neutral? The answer was absolute. Let his final memory of her be a dazzling one. Just once let her risk coming out of her shell for the occasion. Because after the wedding she would return to life as normal. It would be her final show and she’d make it a good one.

  ‘If you’re sure, then thank you.’

  ‘I’m sure.’ Gemma packed the dress back into its bag and handed it to her. ‘Here you go. You may as well take it now.’

  With that they returned downstairs, and soon after that the party dispersed.

  ‘Your family are wonderful,’ Gabby said as Zander started the car. ‘I can see why you want to make them happy.’

  By faking a
relationship. With each moment it seemed increasingly important to remind herself of that. Fact and fiction were beginning to blur and she had to ensure she could see the defining line.

  ‘So,’ she said. ‘What now? If you drop me at a Tube station, I can head back home. It’s not that late.’

  There was a pause as Zander drummed the steering wheel with his fingers—it was a trait she now recognised as his thinking trait.

  ‘Actually...why not make a weekend of it?’ he suggested slowly.

  Gabby hesitated as instincts warred within her. Then, ‘That sounds great. If we stop at a supermarket on the way back, I’ll even cook dinner, if you want. I do a great fish pie and salad.’

  She closed her eyes in silent despair. Fish pie and salad? This was a man who could afford to dine out on caviar every night of the week.

  But Zander smiled. ‘Fish pie and salad sounds perfect.’

  * * *

  Zander pushed the trolley around the supermarket as Gabby chose items, enjoying the intent expression on her face, her ability to imbue such an everyday chore with interest.

  ‘Do you have any dill?’ she asked.

  ‘I think you should work on the assumption that my cupboards are bare.’

  Gabby looked up from the potatoes she was assessing. ‘So how does that work? Presumably you need to eat. You don’t have some sort of superpower that enables you to subsist on air?’

  ‘Unfortunately not. I mostly eat out or get food delivered to the office. Also, every so often Mum descends and fills my freezer with homemade meals I can just heat up. I go to the local shop as and when I need staple items.’

  Gabby grinned suddenly. ‘Well, it doesn’t seem to have done you any harm.’

  The smile lit her face and tugged at his gut, causing an urge to pull her into his arms in the middle of aisle three and kiss her. Not a good idea. It was worrying enough that he’d suggested extending the weekend, decided to abandon the office in favour of her company.

  So instead he said, ‘Do you want me to look for anything?’

  Gabby shook her head. ‘I’m nearly done. All I need are ingredients for the salad.’

  ‘Leave that to me.’

  Half an hour later they carried the loaded bags into his kitchen, unpacked the ingredients and set to work.

  ‘This is Gramps’s recipe and I love it,’ Gabby said as she selected a knife from the block and started to chop onions. ‘When I was a kid I’d have it with ketchup and baked beans, but as I got older I figured out it was better without!’ Reaching for the garlic, she looked up at him. ‘What was your favourite childhood dish?’

  ‘My mum’s chicken casserole, closely followed by Dad’s pork chops in cream with potato dauphinoise. We always ate together, so mealtimes were pretty noisy affairs.’

  ‘Like today at Gemma’s?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You were lucky,’ she said quietly, as the smell of sizzling onions pervaded the air. ‘Sometimes I wished so hard for siblings, to be part of a “normal” family. And then I’d feel guilty, or I’d worry the social workers would think I’d be better off somewhere else.’

  ‘Was that ever a possibility?’

  ‘Gran and Gramps were in their seventies and there were concerns. So many visits and meetings and whispered conversations... I was constantly petrified I’d be taken away. Luckily we jumped through all the hoops, I played my part and there was a happy ending.’

  Zander’s heart went out to her. ‘Did you have to play a part?’

  ‘Yes! It was incredibly important that I came across as quiet and well-adjusted—a child who wouldn’t cause any issues at all. Perhaps it was a good thing—it taught me to push down anger and grief and focus on the positive, on my goals in life. In truth it wasn’t only the social workers I needed to convince—it was Gran and Gramps, as well.’

  Zander frowned. ‘But there must have been times when you didn’t feel quiet or well-adjusted?’

  ‘Sure, but I wasn’t only worried about convincing the social workers. I was scared that they were right—that I would be too much for my grandparents, or that I would remind them too much of my mum. I was scared they would change their minds, and I was grateful they took me in. So I knew I had to be perfect.’

  ‘Didn’t you ever feel like being loud and noisy and letting your hair down?’

  ‘Maybe years ago, but not any more. It’s not in my nature now. I’m quite happy looking on whilst other people do that.’

  Zander didn’t believe her—he sensed that along with her grief and anger, Gabby had also stifled her joie de vivre and her sense of adventure.

  ‘I’ve got an idea.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘How long does your fish pie need in the oven?’

  ‘An hour.’

  ‘Perfect. Then once you have it in, why don’t we pop out for a predinner drink in the pub?’

  ‘Sure. That sounds nice.’

  As he mashed potatoes and shelled hard-boiled eggs, mixed a salad dressing and loaded the dishwasher, he hummed under his breath.

  Gabby’s eyes scrunched in suspicion. ‘You look like Freddy did earlier, when he was planning on mischief.’

  ‘Moi?’ He opened his eyes wide in simulated surprise. ‘What mischief could I possibly be planning?’

  ‘I don’t know...’ Opening the oven, she popped the fish pie in and he gestured to the door.

  ‘Let’s go.’

  They walked the tree-lined streets, inhaling the smell of the nearby river, until he spotted what he was looking for—a pub a colleague had mentioned.

  ‘Here we are.’

  The pub exuded warmth. People had spilled out on to the street, glasses in hand, and the sound of music tumbled out to mix with the chatter and laughter. Once inside they headed to the bar, and Zander beamed as he saw the stage against one of the walls, plastered with posters of local bands.

  ‘Look at that,’ he said. ‘Turns out it’s karaoke night. Why don’t we give it a go?’

  Gabby stared at him. ‘Uh-uh. No way.’

  ‘Why not?’

  She waited as he ordered their drinks and accepted her gin and tonic with perfunctory thanks as they found a tiny unoccupied table. ‘Well, for a start, I can’t sing.’

  ‘Yes, you can. I heard you in the shower this morning and you sounded fine.’

  ‘That is completely different. I will not stand up there and make an idiot of myself.’

  ‘So there isn’t even a tiny bit of you that wants to do it?’

  ‘There is a tiny bit of me that wishes I was the sort of person who wants to do it, but I’m not. End of.’

  ‘We could do it together.’

  ‘Is this why you brought me here?’

  ‘Yes. I even brought this to help you.’ He showed her the herbal anxiety remedy he’d picked up on their way out. ‘Obviously you don’t have to do it if you don’t want to. But I think you do. Maybe years ago you didn’t just suppress grief and anger... Maybe you supressed a bit of the real you, as well.’

  Her forehead creased in a frown. ‘And maybe that bit is so buried it can’t be retrieved. Because I really can’t do this.’

  ‘What’s holding you back?’

  ‘Fear of making a fool of myself—fear of being watched, noticed, the centre of attention.’

  ‘But if you do it—face that fear—you’ll feel good.’

  ‘Possibly...’ The admission was quiet and wrenched out of her.

  ‘Then let’s do it. After all it’s only five minutes of your life. In five minutes it will be over and we can leave the pub, never to return.’

  ‘OK. Sign me up.’

  The words were blurted out, and she looked as if she regretted them instantly, but he was out of his seat before she could recant.

  They waited, and listened to the two people before them. He watched as she tw
isted her hands together, ran her finger through a splash of water on the table to make a pattern, picked her drink up and put it back down again untouched...

  ‘This is nuts. Why can those people just stand up and sing and I can’t?’

  ‘You can.’ He stood up. ‘Come on. We’re up next.’

  It was only as he ascended the stage that it occurred to him that he hadn’t thought this through. He was going to have to read lyrics on a flickering screen from the stage, which in essence made this on a par with public speaking. It also meant it would be harder for him to help Gabby. A co-singer who couldn’t read was hardly ideal.

  He muttered a curse under his breath.

  ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  Gabby looked white-faced with anxiety as it was, and he reached out for her hand, tried not to wince as she squeezed it. Somehow he’d have to wing it—hope he knew enough of the lyrics to manage.

  The music started and Zander gave himself up to the whole experience—after all this wasn’t public speaking. It didn’t matter if he tanked. But the words on the flickering screen were hard to decipher, and eventually he resorted to la-la-la in place of the words.

  Gabby had remained silent, but as she realised his predicament she turned, glanced at him, squeezed his hand even tighter, then turned back towards the audience and began to sing. Softly at first, almost as if she were trying to prompt him, and then her volume increased—and then her foot started to tap to the rhythm and she began to belt it out!

  At the final note the audience clapped and they descended from the stage, making way for the next singers. Gabby turned to look up at him.

  ‘I did it,’ she said quietly, almost as if she couldn’t believe it.

  ‘You did.’

  ‘Thank you, Zander. For putting yourself through that for me.’ And, standing on tiptoe, she brushed her lips against his.

  ‘You’re welcome. Now, let’s head home for that fish pie.’

  She smiled. ‘And after dinner I’ll show you how grateful I am.’ She wiggled her eyebrows. ‘Maybe shed a few more inhibitions.’

  ‘Now, there’s a plan I like the sound of.’