Late Love Read online

  “It’s going to be okay,” Owen says next to me, voice firm and sure. I take his hand and give it a squeeze because something tells me he needs it a bit more than I do right now.

  “I know,” I lie. “It’s just scary.”

  His eyes lock onto my own as he nods. Suddenly his attention drowns out the flashing red lights, smells of antiseptics, and pure panic.

  I make sure to stay looking at him the rest of the ride, and it’s not long before we’re at the hospital. I’m quickly admitted and left alone with Owen in a waiting room until the doctor arrives. We say nothing, as he knows me, and one too many uncertain promises might send me over the edge.

  The door opens and in comes a doctor in a white coat, clipboard in her hand. “Hi, I’m Dr. Stephans, and you must be—” She pauses, looking down. “Ms. Knight. It says here you had a small fall and are twenty-seven weeks pregnant?”

  I nod. “I tripped on some stairs and fell on my side. I just want to make sure everything is okay.”

  She nods, the glasses sitting at the end of her nose threatening to fall off any second. Her big brown eyes turn to Owen, who is hovering by my side.

  “And you must be Dad?” she asks him, seeming already sure that he is. I don’t know why, but the question sends a pang to my heart. Owen stiffens slightly before relaxing when he sees my attention on him.

  “Uh, no,” I cut in for him. “Just a supportive friend.”

  “Oh, my apologies,” she says before coming to sit next to me. “So, shall we take a look and make sure everything is tip top?”

  I lie down and pull up the bottom of my jumper, exposing my rounded stomach. It’s not huge, but definitely obvious I’m expecting.

  “Okay, this is going to be a little bit cold at first, but I’m sure nothing you haven’t already experienced.”

  The gel squeezes out, coating my stomach and sending a chill down my spine. Owen grabs my hand and looms over me while Dr. Stephans gets to work. It’s no time before the deep thrum of a heartbeat echoes through the room, a gust of breath erupting out of me.

  She’s okay.

  “You hear that?” the doctor asks me, her rose-colored lips tilting up at the sides.

  My head moves up and down anxiously as I stare at the screen, seeing the little human looking back at me. My throat tightens, and I fear that if I speak even a single syllable, I’ll lose it.

  So instead I smile, reaching out to touch the screen.

  “So, everything’s okay?” Owen’s voice is laced with panic.

  “Everything is okay,” she confirms. “But you’re going to have to take it easy, okay? I’m not saying you have to go on bed rest, but you need to be careful. Can you do that?”

  I nod, willing to do anything at this point.

  “Is it still okay that I work? I’m a pharmacist, so I’m on my feet a lot.”

  “You can still work, but I don’t want you on your feet the whole time. See if you can work something out with them.”

  “Okay, of course.”

  “And if there is even a slight issue, don’t hesitate to call this office or if you think it’s an emergency, you call the ambulance.”

  We spend the next hour getting everything sorted, and then Owen is finally able to hail a cab for us. I’m silent the entire process, quickly getting in next to him, his familiar scent providing me the only comfort to this tumultuous day.

  I jolt when his ice-cold hands come to rest upon mine. My fingers briefly dig into the plastic-covered seat before loosening up. I wait a few more breaths, finally giving in to what I want, the one thing I always seem to want.

  My body sags as my head tilts to the side, resting on Owen’s broad shoulder. He’s tense—I can tell from just being next to him, but feeling him is another thing. It takes him less than a second to relax as I lean on him, something I’ve become far too familiar with.

  Neither of us speaks as the car begins to move, and I start to realize that today has been traumatizing not only for me, but also for Owen. I’ve dragged him into my mess and, in turn, given him emotional baggage I don’t think he ever asked for.

  But alas, we’re here. And wanting to or not, we’re feeling the weight of today’s events epically. So we sit together in silence, hands clasped with my head on his shoulder, and for a small moment, we let ourselves feel it all.

  It took nearly an hour of convincing, but I eventually got Owen to go home. Despite his insistent questioning, I refused to let him stay, thinking it was best for each of us to have some time to process everything.

  It’s the next morning now and I sit on my couch, attempting to keep my pulse down. All this panic over the past twenty-four hours can’t be good for me or the baby. Stana and Emilia sit in front of me, the fear on their faces clear.

  I guess it’s time to come clean.

  “So obviously, I’m pregnant,” I tell them. I try to laugh, keep things light, but it’s a fail. They both just nod, waiting for me to continue. After a deep breath, I start from the beginning, taking them all the way back to July. All through Beck’s cheating, my escape to London, then my realization about the baby. And then I get to Owen. About him being my rock for the past few months and how much he means to me.

  They sit there, listening, Emilia continuously drinking tea because she is nervous while Stana is doe eyed, my pain prominent in her features.

  Before I know it, I’ve explained the past six months in vivid detail, both of them with their jaws on the floor.

  “I gotta go to the loo, gals. I’m about to wet myself. I’ll give you two some time to decompress and digest it all. Lord knows I’ve had months, and you two have only had a few hours.” I pat their hands, hoping to give them a touch of reassurance before I wander off. I hear them talking to one another after I’ve left the room, and despite my desire to listen in, I don’t. I attend to my business and come back when I think they’ve had enough time.

  Yet as soon as I see the two of them on the couch, I can’t help but grin.

  “I’m just happy I finally got to tell you gals,” I say, their serious faces suddenly dissipating, Em jumping off the couch.

  “Holy shit!” she says. “You’re having a baby.”

  Stana begins to cry, both girls racing over to hug me, each being cautious of the special little girl growing inside of me.

  We spend a few minutes crying with one another, celebrating that they will both be aunties, my soul feeling so much lighter now that they know.

  “Do you know what you’re having?”

  “It’s a little girl,” I say, beaming.

  “A little girl!” they both scream out, my eardrums ringing from it all.

  Our little screaming fest continues, none of us able to contain our excitement, and despite already being privy to the information I’ve just shared with them, I somehow feel the joy all over again. Because sharing this with both of them, the two most important women in my life, finally makes it all real. And it’s in this moment I know it will all be okay, because despite baby not having a daddy, I know she will have a mama who loves her more than life, and two aunties who will be the best role models she could ever ask for, and for me, that means everything.

  Despite everything, it turned out letting the metaphorical cat out of the bag in regard to my pregnancy was just the thing I needed to relieve all the invisible stress I’d been feeling over the weeks leading up to January.

  As predicted, Stana and Emilia couldn’t help themselves, packages arriving at my flat daily for the baby. All were equally adorable, but I didn’t have the heart to tell them she won’t be able to wear six different pairs of overalls as a newborn before she grows out of everything.

  The biggest surprise came my way when I spilled the beans to Joan at work as I had to cut down my hours. Apparently, she’d clued in a few months back. My mortification was strong since I thought I’d pulled the wool over her eyes. And despite my fear that she was angry with me for keeping the secret, her understanding extended to every aspect of work.
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  So, as the weeks of January passed by and my due date crept closer and closer, I finally felt free to experience pure elation and excitement. Not even the murky areas with Owen concerned me too much. I’d placed all my inappropriate feelings toward him in a small box and shoved it so far down in my soul, it would take an expedition team to find that shit.

  Plus, it wasn’t my love life that was the talk of our little group. Apparently—and not to my surprise, because let me just say, I CALLED IT!—Em and Reeve had secretly been seeing each other since October. Yep, nearly four whole months. I guess I wasn’t the only one keeping secrets. And with Em’s admission came the news that Reeve had swiftly ended things and left town to reconnect with his absent father, whom most of us didn’t even know existed.

  I felt like a side character in the romantic dramas Stana and Em always made me watch with everything going on. Unplanned pregnancies, secret relationships… Who knows what’s coming next at this point?

  It all led up to where I’m at right now, seven months pregnant and about to spill the beans to my parents. I already hear the silent judgment of many. How could I keep such a secret from them? What kind of horrible person am I?

  But I know my mum. Despite no longer wanting to be in London, she’d drop everything and take care of me, and that’s just not what I need.

  So, as I stand here in the lobby of their hotel, waiting for them to come, I manage to inhale a few shaky breaths. My jacket and bag hide most of my small stomach and I’m thankful I haven’t exploded yet, but it could still be coming.

  “Darling!” I hear my mother across the lobby, her high heels ringing out against the marble floors as she rushes toward me. Her dark blonde hair is pinned atop her head, and she rocks a white skirt suit. My father is behind her, dressed in trousers and a button-down, his silver hair swept back while tortoiseshell glasses sit on the rim of his nose.

  “Mum,” I say as I meet her halfway, pulling her in for a hug. My father isn’t far behind, his arms coming around the both of us.

  “A little Lottie sandwich.” He grins down at me and for the first time, I realize how much I’ve missed them. I think when you’re away from someone for a long period of time, you can manage to convince yourself that their absence doesn’t impact you. Yet the moment you’re back together, you realize how untrue that is.

  “I’ve really missed you guys,” I tell them, the smell of my mother’s familiar J’adore perfume filling my nose.

  We pull away, my mum wiping under her eyes, which are now glassy.

  “Should we go grab a bite to eat? Are you hungry?” Mum asks me.

  Little does she know I’m always hungry.

  “Actually,” I begin, “there’s something I’d like to talk to you both about before we go to lunch.”

  My mum’s eyes widen, my dad taking a step forward. “Is everything okay, darling?”

  I nod. “Yeah, it is. I’m okay. But there is something I need to get off my chest.”

  Literally.

  “Should we go back up to the room?”

  I look to my father and nod. Although I know my parents and am hoping this won’t turn into a screaming match, you never know.

  We walk toward the elevator, my dad slipping his large hand into mine. He gives it a tight squeeze, looking me over briefly.

  The ride up is silent. I catch my parents looking at me a few times, but they cover up their worry with smiles.

  It’s not long until we’re in the sitting area of their hotel room, both of them silent, waiting for me to start. And so I do. I recap everything that happened with Beck, all of which they already knew, and then my coming home to London and finally finding out I was pregnant in September.

  Neither says a word as I continue, but I can see their gazes drifting toward my coat-covered stomach a few times. When I finish, my mum has tears in her eyes, but it’s my father’s silence that scares me the most.

  “I know this is a lot to take in,” I say, “but I want you to know I kept this from you for a reason. I got myself into this situation and it was important to me that I handle it. I needed these months to process what was happening and figure out how I felt about it. It was never a personal slight against you, but I know you, Mum. You would have dropped your whole life to come help me, and as much as I love you for that, it’s not fair to you or me. I hope you can understand.”

  She nods, her big eyes filled with tears.

  “I know this is a lot to just dump in your laps, and I don’t expect you to have anything to say immediately. So I’m going to just step outside for a few minutes and give you both some time.”

  I stand, their silence scaring me a little more than I thought, and swiftly exit the room. My shaky feet carry me to a chair by the elevator, and I quickly sit down and call Stana.

  “How did it go?” she asks immediately.

  “Well, I told them.”

  “And?”

  “They didn’t say anything. Like nothing. Both just sat there in silence.”

  She pauses for a moment. “That isn’t necessarily a bad thing. They probably are just processing.”

  I nod even though she can’t see me. “I hope so.”

  “Lottie, it’s Florence and Michael we’re talking about. They would do anything for you and we both know it. Plus, they’re probably the most understanding parents I know.”

  “That is true,” I agree.

  We speak for a few more minutes before I decide it’s probably best to go back inside. I don’t want them to think I’ve just left. I say my goodbyes to Stana and quickly message Owen before heading into the potential lion’s den.

  Both of them are still sitting on the couch, their bodies angled toward one another. They stop speaking when I walk back in, my mother shooting off the couch toward me. She wraps her arms around me for a hug I didn’t know how much I needed.

  After she pulls away, we walk back to my dad and settle in, Mum now seated next to me, our hands intertwined.

  “I can’t say I’m not shocked, Charlotte,” my dad begins. “I think I can speak for both myself and your mother when I say you’re our little girl and neither of us expected this day so soon.”

  I nod, biting down on my bottom lip. Even though I’m an adult, it’s always scary when your father uses your first name.

  “With that being said, we also can’t begin to imagine what life has been like for you. And as much as we would have liked to have been by your side every step of the way, I think you’re right—we would have come back to London instantly, and you clearly needed to do this alone.”

  “I did. I know it’s hard to understand.” My voice is low but holds strength.

  “You’ve been on your own these past four years, Lottie. And it’s your actions and the responsibilities you’ve taken on that have shown us enough to know you will be a great mother to this little girl. It would be a lie to say we don’t worry, but you will soon learn that comes with the territory of being a parent.”

  “Are you really okay with this?” I ask my mum, who hasn’t spoken much. I need to know the truth.

  “I’ve never been that mother who dreams her whole life of her child getting married and having babies. My dreams for you were always that you would do what makes you happy. Have a career that fulfilled you, then if you wanted, meet someone to love and have a baby if you desired. And, well, you’ve been living your dream, pursuing your career for the past eight years. So really, you’ve been making me proud your entire life. I never wanted you to have to do this alone, Lottie. But I know if anyone can, it’s you.”

  “Thank you for understanding,” I whisper, tears blocking my vision as I tug her into a hug. She latches onto me, keeping me as close as possible before pulling back and looking at my stomach.

  “Can I?”

  I quickly remove off my coat, finally showing off my little bump for the first time. My mother gasps, her hands eagerly resting atop my stomach.

  “Oh, Michael, you have to come feel this.”

 
I laugh as the baby kicks, my mother’s face the picture of pure joy. My dad comes over and kneels next to me. His eyes ask permission, so I grab his hand and place it beside my mother’s. We sit like this for a few moments, all of us in awe of this small human moving around inside of me. My father wipes at his eyes before standing and taking a sip of water.

  “Now, there are two things I need you to agree to in order for us to move forward.”

  My dad’s stern voice catches me off guard, but I find myself nodding anyway.

  “Next visit, I want to meet this Owen you’ve spoken about.”

  “Not this visit?” I ask.

  “We only have a few days with you, and we intend to spend them all with you. Your mother has already gotten you a room next door. I think getting her to leave your side would be impossible at this point.”

  I laugh, my eyes clouding up. “Of course I’ll stay,” I tell them both. Mum’s hand tightens around my own. “And what’s the second thing?”

  “I want the last known address of Beck. If that little shit thinks he can just fuck off, he has another think coming. A little visit from Uncle Carmine should set him straight.”

  “Dad!” I yell at the mention of Uncle Carmine. He isn’t actually an uncle—he’s an old friend of Dad’s who isn’t exactly on the up and up. Dad’s never been one to involve himself in illegal activity, so his friendship with Uncle Carmine has always been just that, a friendship. Yet I’m not ignorant enough to not know what he would do. I look to Mum for assistance, but she merely shakes her head.

  “Your dad is right, Lottie. He shouldn’t get to walk away from this.”

  I pull my hand from hers. “All these emotions, this anger and rage you’re feeling toward him—trust me, I’ve felt them too. I felt them for the first two months of this pregnancy. It was humiliating that I gave over two years of my life to someone who not only cheated on me, but fucked off after I told him I was pregnant. But after that rage subsided, I began to feel acceptance, and with that came the understanding that we don’t need Beck.”