Covering the Lies

by Sofia Grey

  He should tell her he played with Adele and not Jordan, but before he could say anything else, she dragged him down to sit next to her on the sofa.

  Holding his hands, she gazed into his eyes. “I have something to tell you.”

  Her great mood was hard to resist. “Go on. You’ve booked us a holiday?”

  She gave him a coy look. “I had to go to the hospital today...”

  Nick felt a cold hand creep around his heart, and he squeezed her fingers in alarm. “Are you ill?”

  “No, silly.” She tossed her head briefly, and her hair bounced some more. Her beaming smile looked as though it would split her face. “I’m pregnant.”

  What the fuck? It was the last thing he expected. Or wanted. Rational thought deserted him. Speech fucked off too.

  Lara was talking twenty to the dozen—something about a scan and a heartbeat. How excited she was. What brilliant timing. How pleased she knew he’d be.

  He managed to force out one word. “How?”

  Her laugh was fond and happy. “Well, Nick—darling—it was the usual way. The way women normally get pregnant.”

  That wasn’t what he meant.

  She giggled. For some reason, she thought this was funny. “Would you like me to draw you a diagram?”

  Nick snatched his hands away and stood. He couldn’t look at her.

  “Nick?” She still sounded happy.

  How the fuck did this happen? He might be able to string a coherent sentence together by now. He turned to face her and spoke rapidly. “I thought you were on the pill. You said you were on the pill.”

  She had the grace to blush, though her smile was still undimmed. “I’m not very good at remembering to take it every day. I missed a few, then had to wait for my period before my cycle could get—”

  “There’s no mistake?”

  “No, darling.” She stood and walked to him her arms outstretched, but he stepped away.

  “Why the fuck didn’t you tell me? We could have used condoms. What happened to the fucking Honesty Policy?”

  For the first time, her smile faltered. “Nick, you are pleased, aren’t you? We said we’d talk about starting a family.”

  “Yeah, but talking is one thing. This is another entirely.” He paused, to moderate his tone. “I can’t believe you went ahead and did this without letting me know. What the fuck were you thinking of?”

  Lara’s face coloured. He couldn’t tell if she was angry or upset. “We did this together,” she said. “We’ve made a baby together. I didn’t do it by myself.”

  “You might as well have. I didn’t know we were having unprotected sex. Jesus Christ. I don’t believe this.” They’d have to move to a bigger house. Get a higher mortgage. His pay raise would be gone completely, and then Lara would probably want to give up work, and he’d be the sole wage earner.

  They were about to upgrade his car to a gorgeous BMW Z4. Not much chance of that now.

  One part of him wanted to hold her and apologise for what he was saying. The rest wanted to run like the wind.

  They stared at each other for a long moment. “When?” He was back to one word at a time.

  “I’m around six weeks, so the baby is due May or June. It’s a little early to tell precisely.”

  “Fuck.” His future life flashed before his eyes in a series of images. Nappies. A pram. A car seat—goodbye Beemer. Sleepless nights. Baby sick and crap everywhere. Schools. Endless trips to the swings and to the doctors. No more social life. No holidays. No lazy Sunday mornings in bed. No life.

  “I’m not ready for this.” Nick spoke slowly and carefully, enunciating his words as though he were drunk. “If I asked you to have an abortion, would you think about it?”

  Chapter Five

  It was getting dark when Sylvie and Alex walked back home. Alex held a cardboard box of freshly made jams and pickles, while she carried a box of surplus tomatoes and apples.

  Spending more time with Kate was wonderful. Sylvie’s anxious, jagged edges were soothed after a day of helping in the kitchen and playing silly games with Poppy.

  Alex seemed more chilled too. They talked about party ideas as they walked, and how Sylvie wanted something casual. A small number of guests. A laid-back vibe.

  “Okay,” said Alex. “Do you want to hold it at our house?”

  She struggled to think of it as their house, even though she loved it. She was far more used to flat sharing. Having a massive rambling house for the two of them seemed excessive, but she loved the space and privacy it offered. Especially now they were constantly pursued by the paparazzi.

  “If we hold it here, there’ll be the risk of the press finding out where we live.”

  “Kate said we could use her house.”

  “We could, but I want to do something different, rather than copying Anita’s party.”

  Alex laughed. “How about booking a hotel? Works for most people.”

  “Hmmm. A bit bland and boring though. Don’t you think?”

  He shrugged and shifted the cardboard box in his arms. “Not quite the rock ’n’ roll thing you mean?”

  She smiled. “Besides, I don’t know about you, but I’ve had enough of hotels to last me a lifetime.”

  He seemed about to speak, but then closed his mouth again.

  “Go on,” prompted Sylvie. “What were you going to say?”

  “We still have the down-under concerts to go. There are a few more hotels to get through, before this tour is over.”

  She nudged him gently as they walked along, their strides perfectly in sync. “How could I forget? I’d rather avoid another anonymous hotel for something as important as this.”

  He set her thinking, though. Maybe an alternative venue, somewhere local, but with a twist.

  Back home, they put away the food supplies and settled down in the kitchen, a bottle of wine open and a big pad of paper for her plans. The paper stayed resolutely blank, and Alex was restless. He disappeared for one of his guitars, and then perched on the edge of the table and rippled through a sequence of delicate chords while she doodled on the edge of the pad.

  “Let’s start at the beginning.” He glanced at her. “Write down what you want, and see how it looks.”

  “A venue to take up to fifty guests. Somewhere local. Not a chain hotel. Casual dress. A relaxed atmosphere.”

  “Live music?”

  “You mean us? Play at our own wedding party?”

  “Why not?” He gave her a lazy, sexy smile, and she laughed in delight.

  “I didn’t think of that. Right. We add live music to the list. So that means somewhere that can accommodate a band.”

  She thought hard and felt a spark of excitement at the idea taking shape. “How about a small hotel—a tiny one—where our party are the only guests? Keep everything casual. Don’t tell anyone we’re playing until we go on stage. Maybe book it out for the whole weekend, so we can go walking or horse riding or something. Have a bonfire. Set off some fireworks.”

  Alex stopped playing and quirked his eyebrows. “I know the place. Easy beach access, plenty of space, riding stables next door, and up the road from here? Anita’s parents run a B&B near Holyhead.”

  “Brilliant.” She leapt up and threw her arms around his neck, taking care not to dislodge the PRS resting on his knees. “I’ll ring Anita now.”

  ****

  Alex waited, while Sylvie phoned Anita, then Anita’s mum, then Kate. Hours later, he was bored. It sounded as though she might be wrapping up, so he put away the PRS, and then went to open another bottle of wine. He hoped to chill out with her this evening, and it had to be his turn for her attention.

  He topped up her glass. “All done?”

  “What? No.” She looked bemused. “We’ve barely started.”

  Alex moved her phone out of reach. “Tell me about it later. I’ve hardly seen you today. Come on. Let’s get comfy somewhere else.”

  “Your wish is my command, Rock God.” She stretched as she got up
from the table.

  He saw a flash of midriff, where her T-shirt rode up. It looked golden and inviting. “Do that again.”

  “What? Stretch?”

  “Hey. What happened to the your wish is my command stuff? Didn’t last long.”

  She giggled and stretched again, and he bent down to kiss her bare skin.

  Her phone beeped, and he groaned. “Leave it. Please.”

  “Let me check.”

  She grabbed the phone to read the message, but Alex was determined to distract her. He lifted her T-shirt and unfastened her bra.

  “Alex. Hang on a minute.”

  He paused, and then started to explore her very pert breasts with his lips.

  “Really, babe. I need to call Lara.”

  It sounded like she meant it. With some regret, a little impatience, and a whole load of frustration, he stepped back and watched as she tugged her shirt back down, covering the dangling bra.

  “She’s sent me a text, asking me to call her urgently. You go on. I’ll join you in a bit.”

  Alex knew when he was dismissed. He wandered into the lounge and flicked through the TV channels. There was nothing he wanted to watch. And he’d left the bloody wine in the kitchen. It was an excuse to see how she was doing, and get a top-up while he was there.

  Sylvie looked upset, and it sounded as though Lara was doing most of the talking. Alex poured them both more wine, browsed in the fridge for snacks, and pretended not to listen to the conversation.

  Sylvie seemed limited to a few stock phrases.

  “I can’t believe he said that.”

  “He didn’t.”

  “He’ll come round. You know he will.”

  “He does love you.”

  Good lord, how much longer would this go on? Her phone battery would soon be flat.

  Alex walked up behind her and massaged her shoulders. She gave him a quick smile and relaxed a little. He nuzzled the back of her neck, slipping his hands to the front, under her shirt, but she batted him away.

  It wasn’t funny anymore.

  In desperation, he grabbed her notebook and flicked through to an empty page. He scrawled in big letters, so she couldn’t miss his words.

  Your husband needs you. Please, come now!

  She smiled and held up two fingers. What the hell did that mean? Two minutes? Two hours?

  He tried again, on a fresh page.

  He is pining for you, and will waste away if you don’t hang up!

  She shook her head and blew him a kiss, and finally told Lara that she had to go.

  Alex pretended to slump to the floor. “It’s too late,” he moaned.

  “You are such a rubbish actor.” Sylvie hauled him up and pretended to scowl. “I’m sorry, but Lara is having a shitty time, and that’s what friends are for—to be there for each other.”

  “And husbands. We’re important too.” He scooped her up in his arms and set off for the lounge, while she clung to him. “Go on, then. Tell me in two minutes what disaster has befallen her, and then—please—let me get my hands on you.”

  Her face dropped. “She’s pregnant, and Nick asked her to have an abortion.”

  “—the fuck? How long have they been married?”

  “Almost a year. And they lived together for two years before that.”

  “Then why?”

  “That, my darling, is the six-million-dollar question.”

  Alex shook his head in disbelief. He felt shocked, and he didn’t know Lara. They’d only met a handful of times.

  “I think Nick is panicking,” said Sylvie. “He’s the eternal little boy, and this is a huge wake-up call. I’ve known him for years and always liked him. I can’t believe he’s being such a bastard.”

  Alex gazed at her. A previous girlfriend had aborted what he thought was their child. How could any man ask their wife to do the same?

  He sank onto the sofa, Sylvie still nestled in his arms. Was it a good time for this particular conversation? It was relevant, perhaps. “Syl?” He kissed her throat, knowing she liked it. “Do you ever think about us having children?”

  “Uh huh. I’d like to, one day. What about you?”

  “Too right. One of each. She can play keyboards. He can drum.”

  Sylvie laughed, the sound delighting him. “Are you serious?” she asked.

  “I’m always serious about music.” He kissed her again and resumed his exploration of her breasts with his hands. “But yes, I’d love you to have our children, and the sooner the better.”

  “Slow down, Rock God, I’m only twenty-three. There’s no rush.”

  “I’m old.” Alex whined in a suitably anguished voice. “By the time I get to forty, my little tadpoles will have probably gone into retirement.” He loved to make her laugh. It made him feel warm inside.

  “You big fraud. How about we shelve it for a couple years, maybe three, then start trying before you reach the decrepit age of forty.” Her eyes twinkled with amusement. “But hang on. Isn’t that when I trade you in for a younger model?”

  “Oh no. We’re shackled for life. Nice try.” Finally, Alex had her full attention. He intended to hang onto it for the rest of the night.

  ****

  Adele bumped into Nick—literally—the next morning. She was heading out to the Starbucks up the road, when she collided with him in the foyer of TM-Tech.

  She yelped when his foot banged against her ankle. Like a comedy of errors, he dropped his stack of files, and she let go of her purse. She watched in dismay as it spat out a handful of coins across the floor.

  “Shit.” Nick seemed furious, and then instantly apologetic, his gaze softening when he recognised her. “Sorry, Melda. Did I kick you?”

  “Yeah. That was fun. Let’s do it again some time—not.”

  They hunkered down to gather up their things, and Adele snuck a glance at him. Tight lines around his mouth and shadows under his eyes suggested he was tired or stressed, or both.

  Maybe a timeout was in order. “I was on my way to Starbucks. Do you have time to join me for a coffee?”

  He seemed about to refuse, but then gave a rueful smile. “Yeah, I will. Thanks. Does it have to be Starbucks, though? There’s a good independent barista in the other direction, just a little further.”

  Adele shrugged and pulled a face at him. “If I can hobble that far. I may have to submit a claim for industrial injury.”

  “Ha ha. Very funny.”

  They set off together. The café was only a few minutes away and tucked down a side street. Adele could have easily overlooked it. It was quieter inside than Starbucks, and the coffee was better. Her trim latte was creamy and smooth, strong without being bitter.

  She nodded her appreciation as they settled at a table. “This is good. I’ll come here again.”

  Nick sprawled in his seat, his posture relaxed, but his face looked tight and tense. If it was a work issue, it might indirectly affect Adele or her team. If it was a personal problem, he might appreciate a friend to talk to.

  She raised her eyebrows and smiled. “What’s up? You look like you’re having a really bad day, and it’s not even ten yet.”

  He snorted and stared into his cup, drawing patterns in the froth with his spoon. “Bad day, bad life.” His tone was savage and Adele winced.

  “Hey, come on. It can’t be that bad.” She expected him to grumble about budgets or the increase in workload, or even a shift in corporate strategy.

  “Lara is pregnant. I found out last night.”

  This stunned Adele into silence. It was apparent that Nick was not entirely happy with this.

  “Congratulations,” she said. “Was it a surprise, or have you been planning this?”

  He snorted again. “We have not been planning it. I wasn’t consulted.” He snapped out the words and Adele tried to stop staring. He sighed and spoke in a low voice. “I can’t believe it. She forgot to take the pill and didn’t tell me. And now she says it’s partly my fault.”

  Nick
glanced up at Adele and she couldn’t miss the pain on his face. “I asked her to think about whether we kept it or not,” he continued. “She said no.”

  Whoa. A multitude of emotions cascaded through her. Nick must have good reason for making that suggestion, but Adele couldn’t see what that might be.

  Adele chose her words with care. “You may come to change your mind when you get over the shock.”

  “Yeah, right. I’m only thirty-five; there’s plenty of time for kids later. And we’ve been married less than a year. I mean, come on. I don’t understand what she was thinking. It’s madness.”

  “At least you’re married. And you have a good job. You wouldn’t struggle financially, like a lot of couples.”

  He gave Adele a scathing look. “Have you seen new parents? Sleepless nights and covered in baby puke? All they can talk about is how many times Junior filled his nappy. I’m really not ready for all that.”

  She shrugged. “Maybe, but it sounds like it’s happening, whether you like it or not.” She tried a different angle. “From what you’ve said, Lara will be a great mum.”

  To Adele’s dismay, he sank his head into his hands. “Maybe.” His voice was muffled. “But that doesn’t mean it’s the right thing to happen.” He looked up again and stared into her eyes. “For Christ’s sake, she works as a planner. She didn’t plan this very well.”

  Adele had to giggle, and this earned another glare. “Or maybe she did.”

  His brow wrinkled. “You think she planned this? Without telling me? Fuck. That’s worse than it being an accident.”

  “Hey. I only said she might have. I was trying to tease you.”

  “Yeah.” He sounded resigned. “Whichever way it happened, we still have to deal with it.” He stared at the ceiling for a few minutes, while she sipped her latte. “You know, I was hoping we’d take a long Christmas holiday and go down under. Take two months off. Tour New Zealand. Visit Oz. It’s the big Marketing conference in Wellington next year. I thought we’d go together and make a real holiday of it. Fat chance of that.”

  Adele suppressed another giggle. “She won’t be that fat by Christmas. Sorry. Bad joke.”

  “If you’re trying to cheer me up, it’s not working.”