Late Love Read online

  Owen finally reaches us, a smile broadcasted across his face as he looks me over, then my bump, something I’ve noticed him doing more frequently. He doesn’t even seem to notice Maureen with me, his concern focused on me and the baby.

  “Hey,” he says, his hand coming out to take all my bags without me asking.

  “Hey,” I whisper back, fucking ecstatic to see him.

  “Wow, so you must be Dad?” Maureen interrupts our moment, and Owen stiffens as he turns to her. He plasters on a smile, not wanting to be rude, yet I know it isn’t genuine.

  “Owen,” he says, reaching out to shake her hand. She looks to me quickly and winks in approval.

  “I’m Maureen, an old friend of Lottie’s.” She pauses, blatantly eyeing him. “Well, Lottie, putting two and two together, I can see why you left Beck.”

  It’s clear how she views it. I left or cheated on Beck with Owen and got knocked up. It pisses me off, but I say nothing. The last thing I need is to air my dirty laundry to someone who will call ten people. I’ve made my bed with Beck; I don’t plan on lying in it again and catching fleas.

  Owen stiffens beside me, and I risk looking up at him, seeing the smile fall off his lips.

  When neither Owen nor I say anything, Maureen takes that as her cue to continue talking, her hands animatedly in the air.

  “So how did Beck take the whole thing?” She signals to my stomach, and I feel my eyebrows rise. “Was he heartbroken? When he reached out he didn’t mention anything had happened between the two of you, so I just assumed you were still together.”

  “Beck is a sorry piece of shit who wouldn’t know the word ‘heartbreak’ if it bit him on the arse. He probably didn’t mention Lottie because he’s too much of a coward to admit the hell he put her through. She doesn’t need him in her life; she’s got all she will ever need.”

  I’m taken aback, and from the way Maureen’s jaw has hit the pavement, it appears she is too. It’s an outburst I’ve yet to see from Owen, but one I wouldn’t hate to see again. Sure, I’m a strong, independent woman, but holy hell, it wouldn’t be terrible seeing him defend my honor. Screw airing dirty laundry—I’ll lay it all on the pavement for Owen.

  “Um,” Maureen says, her manicured hands coming up to scratch her neck. “Wow, Lottie, I really didn’t know.”

  I want to laugh. It’s probably the tenth time Maureen has said “wow” this conversation, but she clearly means well, so I hold it in.

  “It’s okay,” I tell her. “Beck and I didn’t end on great terms, but he’s in my past now, so it’s just not something I bring up because he honestly doesn’t matter to me.”

  “Of course,” she says all too quickly, her head nodding up and down like a little bobblehead. “Well, I hate to cut things short—we really do need to catch up, Lottie—but I’ve got a hair appointment.” She looks at her watch. “Well, five minutes ago! But text me and we can get a drink. Uh, shit, no, I mean a coffee!”

  She leans in for a quick hug before waving at Owen and disappearing through the crowd.

  Owen and I stand there for a few more moments before I turn to him, noticing his eyes staring off into the distance.

  “Hey,” I say, nudging his arm. He blinks a few times, his tall frame finally turning to me.

  “You okay?” I ask.

  “I’m sorry I let her think I was the dad.” The words spill out of him, and I see remorse, but I also don’t fully see regret.

  “You’re fine. She assumed,” I reply casually, beginning to stroll down Oxford Street, knowing Owen will stay by my side.

  “But I didn’t correct her.”

  “Who cares? I doubt I’ll see her again anyway.” To be honest, I couldn’t care less if people think Owen is my little girl’s dad. Lord knows any dad is better than Beck.

  Owen stops behind me, people shouting as he blocks the path.

  “I promise, it’s not a big deal.”

  We walk through the busy crowds, my feet thankful when Owen hails a cab. I quickly get in and sit next to him. “I was thinking,” I tell him. “Once she’s old enough, I should take her out to visit my parents in France. I mean, it’s probably too soon to make all these plans, but I want to have things to look forward to.”

  “I’m sure she would love that, your parents too.”

  “I thought if you wanted, you could come. I mean, I’ll ask everyone else to come too, but I definitely want you there.”

  He grins. “I’d love that, Lottie.”

  I’m still smiling like an idiot when a strange sensation like I’ve just peed my pants hits me. I look down, mouth agape when I see water covering my pants and the seat below me.

  “Oh shit,” I whisper.

  “What?” he asks, before his eyes widen when they land on my legs.

  “Driver, can you get us to Royal London please?” he instructs, quickly going into takeover mode. I see the driver’s eyes glance into the rearview mirror before widening and going back to the road.

  “It’s too early,” I say, knowing a week early is okay, but the reality of what is happening crashing down on me. I’m about to have a fucking baby!

  “Hey.” He cups my face, our gazes locking. “You can do this. You’re ready. There is nothing more to prepare for, okay? You don’t have to be scared, Lottie. I’m here.”

  I nod, trying to keep my breathing even as we drive. Owen calls my mum for me and texts the group to keep everyone updated. I know some people don’t want to tell anyone until the baby has come, but I’m not that girl. I need my people with me.

  We make it to the hospital in quick time, Owen wasting not a second to get me checked in. I’m in a gown and into a bed and before I know it, the contractions begin, my labor coming along faster than expected. My friends and family still aren’t here when it’s time to push, my face sweaty and hair sticking to it.

  “You can do this, love,” the nurse says next to me, attempting to calm me down.

  “Okay, Lottie, start pushing,” the doctor says, preparing for the arrival of my baby girl. I shake my head, suddenly petrified that I indeed cannot do this.

  “I don’t want to do this alone.” I begin to cry to Owen. Thankfully, he lets me hold his hand in a death grip. I try inhaling deep breaths like they taught at the one Lamaze class I went to, but fuck that shit. Who has time to focus on their breathing in these types of moments?

  “I’m here. You’re not alone. Neither of you will ever be alone, you hear me?”

  I nod, but another wave of pain takes over and I scream out. Fuck, no one ever told me it’s this bad.

  “Okay, love, you need to start pushing. Give us a big push,” the nurse with the Cockney accent says.

  And boy do I push, using all my strength again and again until I hear it. The loudest little cry wails from the end of my bed, the doctor holding her up for me to see.

  A sob catches in my throat at the sight of her, all pink, covered in white shit. She’s fucking perfect. And all mine.

  “Does Dad want to cut the cord?” Her question is directed at Owen, whose face has gone a whiter shade of pale.

  “Uh…” His hold on my hand begins to loosen, as if he somehow doesn’t belong, but I tighten my grip. His gaze snaps to mine as I nod, motioning my head toward the baby and nurse.

  The nervous Owen from months ago when he first burst into my life reappears as he walks over and grips the scissors. I can’t look away from him as he does it. He’s been here through everything. If anyone should be doing this, it’s him.

  “Perfectly healthy baby girl,” the nurse tells me, placing my daughter’s crying red body on top of my own. I quickly put my hands on her to keep her supported, her wails calming.

  Owen walks back over to me, a sheen of liquid coating his eyes.

  “She’s perfect, Lottie. Absolutely perfect,” he whispers from next to me, awe overtaking his voice. I just nod in agreement. Stroking her skin, I try to comprehend how I managed to create such an important, beautiful little life. How I got so luc
ky.

  Eventually they have to clean her and wrap her for me. My soul already misses her presence.

  “So, Mummy, do you have a name?” the nurse asks as she brings her back to me, my arms impatient to hold her again. She’s all wrapped up like a little burrito as I hold of her again, something deep inside of me settling.

  I nod. “Rosie. Her name is Rosie Knight.”

  Rosie’s scream wakes me up exactly three hours after I put to her bed. It’s been like clockwork—every three hours she needs to be fed, changed, and cuddled.

  I groan as I look at the clock, which is telling me it’s only three a.m. Ever since we got home from the hospital last week, I’ve been attempting to get used to my new routine, yet I mainly feel like a zombie. Like all the bloody time.

  I pull myself out of bed and go to her, each cry a little louder than the one before.

  “Shhh, shhh, Rosie, Mummy’s here,” I say as I pick her up. Her face is bright pink while her mouth trembles with each wail.

  I situate myself on the rocking chair before she begins to feed, latching on without any issues and quieting instantly. Her tiny little hand rests atop of me while I run my free hand over her blonde hair. I never knew a baby could have as much hair as Rosie. With big blue eyes and the mop of hair, she’s a little replica of me as a child, says Mum, only she’s cuter. I don’t disagree. I was blonde as a little girl before my hair started to darken. Clearly I liked being a blonde more, hence the bleach.

  We sit together rocking back and forth until she’s full, her eyes drifting shut again. I right her on my shoulder, then burp her until I know it’s okay to put her down again. As soon as she’s back in her cot I want to pick her up again and nuzzle my face into her soft, warm neck. But I could never wake her, so I drag my over-exhausted body to bed and let sleep take hold. Well, at least for another few hours anyway.

  “Darling, why don’t you go take a nap and I’ll watch Rosie?” My mother’s voice infiltrates my fuzzy mind as Rosie sleeps upon my chest. She sits next to me, knitting in hand. It’s a rare sight, but one I don’t mind.

  “No, it’s okay, Mum. I need to stay awake anyway.”

  “What time are the girls coming over?”

  I scratch my head. “Uh, I think five? They’re going to stop by before the guys’ show tonight.”

  “You know if you wanted to go, I’d be more than happy to look after her.”

  “I know, Mum. I think it’s just a little soon for me to be leaving her.”

  She nods. “I was like that with you. It took your father practically forcing me out of the house alone one day when you were six months for me to finally understand mums need time too.”

  “I’m sure I’ll get there, just not yet.”

  She pats my hand before going back to her knitting. “So, I was talking to Evie this morning and we were thinking of going to dinner tomorrow night, but I wanted to make sure you didn’t need me.”

  Since my mum and Evie meeting at my baby shower, the two have become fast friends, going as far as to plan upcoming FaceTimes for when Mum’s back in France.

  “I think that’s great. You deserve a break. Lord knows you’ve been doting on me for weeks.”

  She dismisses me with a wave. “I’d never have it any other way, Lottie. You’re my little girl and you will be until you’re my age. I’d never want to miss these moments.”

  Smiling at her, I mentally thank the universe for her being here over the past month. Despite me having Owen and the girls, they’ve all got jobs they need to go to during the day, and since I can no longer go to mine, well, let’s just say I’ve been bored and overwhelmed.

  The next three weeks fly by, with Mum staying a little longer to help out. It was the biggest help I could imagine because despite reading every baby book and watching all the documentaries, I still wasn’t prepared for what motherhood entailed.

  Before I know it, Rosie is one month old, her personality growing daily. We’ve managed to get into a slight routine, but she’s still so small that it holds little ground. Everyone comes over when they have the chance, but the reality is they all have full-time jobs and commitments, not able to drop everything and come see me when I’m feeling lonely.

  I see Owen the most, despite still pushing him to date. I know it pisses him off, but luckily he says nothing, just entertains me. I don’t know if he’s actually gone on any dates, but I like to hope he has. As much as it does something to my insides, like twisted-up wet laundry something, I can’t hold him back. I know if he had it his way we’d be together, but I’ve just had a baby. It’s less than practical.

  So instead we accept one another’s friendship, both of us pushing away any other thoughts to the best of our abilities. Because our friendship means more than anything, his relationship with Rosie means more. She needs all the strong male figures in her life that she can get.

  So, when he comes over later that night, with my favorite takeaway, I know I’ve done the right thing by pushing him away. It’s better to keep this type of relationship than attempt a romantic one.

  An hour after eating, with me sprawled across the couch while Owen sits on the floor with his back against it, I scroll through his dating profile I made him set up.

  Call me crazy—maybe I’m even a glutton for punishment—but in order to be okay with how much time he spends with me and Rosie, I need to make sure he is still living life.

  “What about this girl?” I hold up her profile in his face. She’s a brunette, big smile, big boobs, and she loves music and a drink at the pub.

  I tell him she seems great but he says nothing, his eyes looking away from my own.

  “Oh, come on, Owen, you need to give these people a shot or you will never meet anyone.”

  “Lottie,” he says, voice suddenly serious. He turns his head from the TV, his attention suddenly on me.

  “What?”

  He huffs. “Why are you being so aloof about this? Glazing over everything that’s happened between us? Pushing me on other people?”

  “Owen, we’ve been over this. I can’t give you what you want. I’m in zero position to be in a relationship and honestly, I don’t have it in me to try,” I lie. Lie, lie, lie. It’s always a lie with him these days, because in truth, it’s only him I want, but I’m too much of a little bitch to admit my feelings. Plus, I have a one-month-old.

  “Baggage” is an understatement.

  He nods for a second, his gaze drifting off. “Sure, she looks fine,” he says.

  “Great! She wants to meet for coffee tomorrow.” I waggle my eyebrows at him, trying to show off my best moves and he smiles back, but it’s forced.

  Maybe it is fucked up I’m doing this to him, but I can’t bring myself to stop.

  I continue to arrange a date for the man I want with a girl I already irrationally hate. Yet I do it anyway because I’m a sick sadist apparently.

  When he leaves later that night, I feel a strange shift in the air between us, but I ignore it. I’ve become good at that recently. I just hope these actions don’t backfire.

  I lean forward, dotting little kisses all across Rosie’s face. She’s still so small that I don’t get a huge reaction, but I love it anyway. Her big blue eyes stare up at me, her mind probably wondering why some crazy lady is looming over her. Little does she know she’s so cute she’s stuck with me for life.

  My phone vibrates in my pocket, Evie’s name flashing upon the screen.

  “I was wondering when you’d call,” I say, answering the FaceTime. Since Rosie’s birth, Evie calls me at least three times a week, always around her lunch break, while Mum’s calls come every single day. Apparently the two keep one another updated when I fall behind. Which these days happens a bit.

  “I just needed a little Rosie pick-me-up before I went into court this afternoon. Remind me to tell Owen never to get a divorce. In fact, Lottie, I’m telling you too. Be sure you marry someone good because these arseholes can play dirty.”

  I laugh, knowing marr
iage is an extremely far off idea for me, if one at all.

  “Noted,” I tell her, making sure the screen is showing Rosie and not my messy self.

  “Hello, my darling girl, your Evie misses you very much. Are you going to come see me soon?”

  “I was thinking we could come visit for lunch one day. There’s only so much time a girl can spend inside before she loses her mind.”

  Evie’s wistful laugh drifts through the phone. “Oh, I remember those days. Luckily with Hugo I had Owen to keep me on my toes.”

  I smile, thinking of a small Owen helping his mum out. If he was anything like he is now, I know she was a lucky woman.

  “But yes, Lottie, please come visit. I can get my secretary to book us somewhere delicious.”

  “I’d love that,” I tell her, my mind drifting to all the terrible food I’ve eaten since Rosie was born. I either go all day, forgetting to have something, or I pick up the nearest packet of crisps and before I know it I’ve inhaled the whole thing. My only solace is when Owen comes by with food.

  Evie and I speak for twenty more minutes, both of us catching up while I tell her all about Rosie’s daily habits, which aren’t exactly a lot, but she wants every single detail. Eventually I have to go because Rosie’s hungry and in desperate need of a nap.

  We make plans to get lunch the following week and say our goodbyes. I quickly get to work on Rosie, putting her down for a nap before I myself need to take one too.

  “Lottie, I swear she is the most perfect thing I’ve ever seen.” Stana rocks Rosie back and forth in her arms, her gaze attached to my little girl. We sit in Saint Street, appreciating the fact that the place isn’t packed for once, Ali keeping it closed during the day. Cue us girls using it as a quiet hangout when our flats just feel too small.

  I eye all the presents they’ve brought, sprawled across the table.

  “You know you didn’t have to bring all of this stuff. I will love you even if you come empty handed.” Although Rosie’s already a month old, every time they see her, the girls squeal as if it’s their first encounter.