The Blackwell Lessons: Teacher Student Romance (New Adult / College Romance) (Volume 4)

by Sk Quinn

  ‘We have?’ My mind is screaming, run, run! But I know my body can’t run far.

  ‘I’m Marc’s little brother,’ says the man. ‘Michael.’

  ‘What?’ I say, my voice high and scared. ‘Have you been following me? At the department store today? And on set?’

  ‘I admit I have,’ says Michael. ‘Marc has all but cut me out of his life. So I thought … I’d heard you were kind. I thought maybe if I talked to you, you might persuade Marc to let me back in.’

  My head is pounding. Am I dreaming? ‘This is too weird. This can’t be …’

  But even as I’m saying the words, I know this man must be related to Marc. He looks so much like him.

  ‘Why doesn’t Marc want anything to do with you?’ I ask.

  ‘I have no idea. He cut me out when you came on the scene.’

  ‘Why would he do that?’

  ‘You’d have to ask him. I’ve tried myself, but … well you know Marc. Once he’s made a decision he doesn’t feel the need to explain it. I’ve talked to Baz about it, but he has no idea either. And those two were best buddies once upon a time.’

  ‘Baz knows you?’

  ‘Baz knows me very well. He’s even let me on set a few times.’

  ‘But how—’

  ‘I was Marc’s diversion for years. Baz will tell you all about it. I’d go to a bar with Baz, and the press would follow me instead of Marc. It gave Marc a chance to research his roles.’

  ‘But … why wouldn’t Marc mention you?’ I say.

  Keith comes sprinting towards us waving my mobile phone.

  ‘Got it!’ he shouts, barely out of breath. ‘That young man will think twice about stealing from a pregnant lady again. One punch. Wallop. And he was out cold. The police are coming for him as we speak—’

  Keith slows as he notices who’s beside me.

  ‘Michael,’ he says, the word slow and cold. ‘What are you doing here? You know Marc told you to stay away.’

  ‘I know that,’ says Michael.

  ‘I wouldn’t cross Marc,’ says Keith. ‘Especially now Sophia’s pregnant.’

  ‘I thought Sophia might be happy to get to know me,’ says Michael. ‘Why don’t you take us to Marc and we can ask him?’

  ‘You know he’s going to kill you, don’t you?’ says Keith. ‘And probably me too.’

  ‘I’ll make sure if anyone gets killed it’ll be me,’ says Michael.

  Keith sighs. ‘You will be the death of me Michael Blackwell. Right come on. Get in the car. I’ll tell Marc we’re on our way.’

  Suddenly a camera flashes.

  We turn to see a pap clicking away.

  ‘I can see the headline now,’ says Michael, grinning. ‘Marc and Sophia’s lover’s tiff.’

  79

  ‘We’re going to the townhouse?’ I ask, as the limo heads towards Chelsea.

  ‘That’s where I took Marc earlier,’ says Keith. ‘He was supposed to be meeting young Michael here. But I’m guessing that young Michael was in fact creating a diversion. Getting Marc out of the way so he could talk to you instead.’

  ‘You’re wasted as a driver,’ says Michael. ‘You should be a detective.’

  ‘Why didn’t you just meet up with Marc?’ says Keith. ‘He’s a reasonable man. You never know. He might have changed his mind—’

  ‘He was never going to change his mind,’ says Michael. ‘Come on Keith. You’ve known Marc a long time. He agreed to meet me to tell me to stay away. Yet again. You know that as well as I do. Sophia is my only chance.’

  ‘Is Marc going to be angry that you’re here with me?’ I ask.

  ‘Oh he’ll be furious,’ says Michael. ‘But I won’t give up. That’s what Marc doesn’t understand. I’m a Blackwell too. I’m determined. I want to know you. And my brother. And my future nephew.’

  I laugh. ‘Nephew? You think it’s a boy too?’

  ‘You’re carrying a Blackwell. All first Blackwell children are boys.’

  ‘Funny. That’s just what Marc says.’

  ‘I’m determined to meet the little fellow,’ says Michael. ‘But Marc is intent on keeping me away.’

  ‘But why?’

  ‘He won’t tell me.’

  The car pulls up at the townhouse and the big gates swing open.

  ‘I guess now’s a perfect time to ask him.’

  As we drive into the underground garage, Marc is waiting, hands on hips.

  He strides to the car and helps me out, then takes my face in his hands.

  ‘Are you okay?’

  ‘I’m … okay. But a bit weirded out.’

  Marc wraps his arms around me. ‘Forgive me. Please, please forgive me. I hate keeping secrets from you. But I knew if I told you, you’d be curious. I didn’t want that can of worms opened.’

  ‘Marc, just tell me what’s going on.’

  Michael climbs out of the car.

  ‘Stay the hell away from my family,’ Marc barks. ‘Keith, do the honours would you? Take Michael back up north.’

  Michael’s face falls. ‘Marc, please. Tell me why at least—’

  ‘Why don’t you ask our father?’

  There’s a pause.

  ‘So that’s what this is all about?’ says Michael. ‘He’s our dad, Marc. Just a sad old man now. And he’s not as bad as you think. He could have gone to the press about me. Made a bit of money. But he never did.’

  ‘He ruined Annabel’s life. Stole her childhood. I want nothing to do with him. And I’ll protect my family at all costs. Which means keeping you away. And you’re wrong about him going to the press. He did try to sell the story. I made sure it was buried. If I catch you anywhere near Sophia again—’

  ‘Marc, please.’ I step back from his warm chest. ‘I don’t think Michael means either of us any harm.’

  ‘Of course I don’t,’ says Michael. ‘You’re my family. Marc’s my brother. You’re my sister-in-law.’

  ‘I already told you,’ says Marc. ‘You’ve made your choice.’

  ‘Marc,’ I say. ‘Do you really want to cut your brother out of your life? Just because he spends time with your father?’

  ‘Absolutely.’

  ‘Is that fair?’

  ‘I don’t care if it’s fair. My father is clever. If we spend time with Michael, he’ll be able to ascertain facts about our life. Facts he could use to try and get close. The ties have to be severed completely. All ties. Believe me, I’m doing this for our own good.’

  ‘So who else knows about Michael?’ I ask.

  ‘Baz. That’s it.’

  ‘I don’t get it,’ I say. ‘I’ve seen your family pictures. There weren’t any of Michael.’

  ‘We have different mothers,’ says Marc. ‘My father had an affair. Michael was the result. We didn’t know about each other until a few years ago. And then he made himself useful, working as a diversion for me.’ Marc gives Michael a gentle smile. ‘Which I’m grateful for. We kept him quiet from the press. But now … I just think it’s best if he stays away.’

  ‘Look, why don’t we go up into the house?’ says Michael. ‘Talk properly. I think I have a way this could work.’

  ‘Marc?’ I ask.

  Marc frowns. ‘Sophia, I thought you understood. It’s unfortunate that you know about Michael, but he needs to leave now. He can’t be part of our lives. Especially when our son is born.’

  ‘Please Marc. Let’s talk about this. Michael is our family.’

  Marc closes his eyes. ‘This is exactly what I was afraid of. Fine. Let’s go upstairs. But I’m making no promises.’

  80

  In the kitchen, Rodney waits with fresh, hot coffee.

  ‘There are brandy snaps in the oven,’ he tells us.

  ‘Thanks Rodney.’ I perch on a stool, my pregnant belly squashed against the oak breakfast bar.

  ‘Sophia,’ says Marc. ‘I really don’t think you should be sitting—’

  ‘I’m fine,’ I say. ‘Really. Let’s hear what Michael has to say.
’

  Rodney pours us all coffee.

  ‘This had better be good,’ says Marc. ‘I’m not happy about you using Sophia to get close to me—’

  ‘I didn’t use her,’ says Michael. ‘I wanted to get to know her. She’s my family too now. And she’s carrying my family—’

  ‘So what is it you want to say?’ says Marc.

  ‘I won’t see our father any more.’

  Marc takes a sip of coffee. ‘Go on.’

  ‘I saw him last week. He’s already sold the car you gave him. And spent most of the money.’

  Marc raises an eyebrow. ‘Sounds about right.’

  Michael sighs. ‘He’s a selfish man. I know that. Deep down, I always knew it. I just wanted … I don’t know. All adopted kids have this romantic image of their birth parents. I suppose I wanted to cling onto the idea that our father was somehow good. But I’m better off without him. Everyone is.’

  Marc watches him carefully. ‘You really mean that?’

  ‘I really mean it. You’ve always been a good brother. And I understand your protectiveness. Of Sophia and your child. I was wrong to think that I could have both you and our father in my life.’

  ‘I don’t want to force you to choose—’

  ‘There’s no choice. There really isn’t. I choose you and your new family.’

  ‘Michael, tell me the truth. If you still want to see our father—’

  ‘I don’t.’

  As I watch Marc’s stern expression, I have the strangest feeling. Like big hands gripping my stomach and pushing tight.

  Whoa.

  I squirm around on the stool, but for a moment I just cannot get comfortable.

  ‘Marc?’ Michael asks. ‘What do you say? Do we have a deal?’

  Marc’s lips go tight, and for a moment I think he’s going to refuse. Then his eyes drop to the counter. ‘Yes. Yes we do. Because I know Sophia will kill me if I say no.’

  ‘Come here you!’ Michael grabs Marc in a big hug, and Marc slaps his back.

  ‘Michael,’ says Marc. ‘Meet your sister-in-law. Sophia Blackwell.’

  ‘We’ve already met,’ says Michael, throwing me a wink. ‘I like her. You’ve chosen well.’

  ‘Don’t you go getting any ideas now, little brother,’ says Marc. ‘We look a little alike. I don’t want Sophia getting confused.’

  I laugh. ‘So where do we go from here?’

  ‘Michael can visit,’ says Marc. ‘And he can meet his nephew.’

  ‘Nothing would make me happier,’ says Michael.

  ‘I am so relieved,’ I say. ‘About everything.’

  ‘I’m sorry you had to go through this,’ says Marc.

  ‘It’s okay. You thought you were protecting me. I understand.’

  I have that strange feeling again. Like something is squeezing my stomach. Softly at first, and then harder and harder until I feel a tiny twisty sharp feeling between my legs.

  I suppose I must go a little pale or something, because Marc says, ‘Sophia? Are you okay?’

  The feeling passes and I nod. ‘I think so. But Marc … our baby might be coming.’

  81

  Marc stares at me. ‘You’re going into labour? Here. Let me help you. Come into the lounge. You need to sit somewhere more comfortable.’

  As Marc leads me down the hallway, I have the feeling again. The strong tightening that creeps up my legs and goes all around my stomach. I stop for a moment, gripping Marc’s hand.

  ‘Are you uncomfortable?’ Marc asks.

  ‘Not exactly. It just feels … weird.’

  ‘Come sit on the sofa,’ says Marc.

  ‘It looks like you two need some privacy,’ says Michael. ‘Can I get you anything? Call anyone?’

  Marc gives a curt shake of his head. ‘It’s fine. Rodney has been briefed. Everything is in order. Keith will drive you home. Come back when the baby is born.’

  Michael grins. ‘I will. You know I will.’

  I find I’m not comfortable on the sofa and have to stand up. As I’m standing, I get another tightening. Which I guess is a contraction. Although I’m not sure, because I thought contractions were supposed to really hurt.

  ‘Maybe the baby isn’t coming yet,’ I tell Marc, walking back and forth. ‘Remember what the doctor said? About practise contractions? That you get some that aren’t the real thing?’

  ‘I remember.’

  ‘And this is too soon, isn’t it? The due date isn’t for weeks.’

  ‘I have a feeling the baby is coming.’

  ‘I thought I was supposed to be the one who had feelings.’

  ‘I’ll call the doctor. And ask her to come here with the midwife.’

  ‘I think we should wait,’ I say. ‘I don’t want to call them out for nothing.’

  ‘Sophia, this isn’t nothing,’ says Marc. ‘Look at you – you can hardly sit still.’

  ‘It’s really not that bad,’ I insist, pacing around the living room. ‘Honestly. It could be a false alarm.’

  ‘And if it isn’t?’

  ‘Well I have to warn you that in my family, babies come quickly. I was born in three hours.’

  ‘I’m calling the doctor.’

  Over the next few hours, the contractions get much more intense. But the doctor and midwife still haven’t arrived.

  Marc makes countless phone calls and even contacts an emergency midwife. But no one comes.

  ‘What’s going on?’ I ask Marc, holding on to the back of the sofa. ‘Where are they?’

  ‘There’s a protest in central London,’ says Marc. ‘Nothing’s getting through. And an accident on the South Bank means the medical helicopters are tied up. My own helicopter is on the other side of London. I’m trying to get a private one, but they’re all being used by millionaires avoiding the traffic.’

  ‘Aren’t you one of those millionaires?’ I say, taking deep breaths in and out.

  ‘No Sophia. I told you before. I’m a billionaire.’

  I feel another contraction coming and lean into the sofa, swaying back and forth.

  Marc holds my hand.

  I can tell this is hard for him. He can’t help me and it is killing him.

  ‘Christ – someone needs to get here now,’ Marc barks, running a hand through his hair.

  I try to focus on my breathing, but it’s getting harder and harder.

  Suddenly everything feels boiling hot, inside and out.

  ‘I need to take my clothes off,’ I say.

  ‘I’ll help you.’ Marc pulls my jumper over my head and helps me out of my maternity jeans. ‘If the midwife turns up, I’ll dress you again before she comes in.’

  ‘I don’t care,’ I say, my eyes closed. ‘I really don’t care. Marc, can you do something? Please? I really can’t stand this.’

  ‘You and me both,’ says Marc. ‘Here.’ He squeezes my hips between his palms, and weirdly it helps.

  ‘How did you know to do that?’ I groan.

  ‘Research.’

  I manage a laugh, but it’s quickly followed by a moan. ‘Oh no. Here comes another one. How can they hurt so much?’

  Through the discomfort, I dimly hear a knock at the door.

  ‘Marc!’ I shout. ‘It’s them.’

  ‘I can’t leave you—’

  ‘Leave me! Go get them! They’ll have painkillers. Please Marc!’ I let out another moan and grip the back of the sofa, swaying back and forth on my bare feet.

  I hear female voices, and then a nice, soft blonde lady wearing cowboy boots and a red shawl comes gliding into the room with Dr Christian.

  ‘Sophia?’ she says. ‘I’m Alice. Your midwife. How are you doing?’

  ‘How do you think she’s doing?’ Marc snaps.

  Alice laughs. ‘It’s okay Mr Blackwell. Her body is just doing what millions of other women’s bodies do. Nothing to worry about.’

  ‘She’s in excruciating pain,’ says Marc. ‘How can I not be worried?’

  ‘It’s just mother nature
,’ says Alice. ‘Now Sophia. I need to examine you. Would that be okay?’

  I grit my teeth and nod.

  ‘It’s good you’re already undressed,’ says Alice, kneeling down. ‘Makes it a bit easier to have a look.’

  I grip the sofa as she examines me, letting out a moan of pain.

  ‘Is this strictly necessary?’ Marc barks. ‘Can’t you see she’s hurting enough already?’

  Alice doesn’t reply for a moment. I glance down and see she’s gone pale.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ I ask.

  Alice gives a little cough. ‘How long have you been in labour Sophia?’

  I shake my head at the sofa. ‘I don’t know. Ask Marc.’

  ‘Four hours,’ says Marc. ‘The pains started four hours ago.’

  ‘You mean she’s been in pain for four hours?’ Alice asks.

  ‘They … weren’t so bad at first,’ I stammer.

  Alice blinks. ‘You weren’t feeling anything at all four hours ago? No tightenings?’

  I shake my head. ‘No.’

  ‘And this is your first baby?’

  ‘My first.’

  ‘Well.’ Alice glances at Dr Christian. ‘This labour is progressing extremely quickly. I can’t quite believe this, but the baby is nearly here.’

  ‘But it can’t be.’ I say. ‘My waters haven’t broken or anything. Oh my god!’ I grab the sofa again, feeling another wave of fire wash over my insides. I want to be sick, it hurts so much.

  When the wave passes, Marc puts an arm around my shoulder. ‘Sophia. The baby is coming. Did you hear what the midwife said?’

  ‘You mean I’m going to give birth here?’ I say, a note of panic in my voice.

  ‘It’s going to be difficult to get you to the hospital at this stage,’ says Alice. ‘The roads are still rammed. You don’t want to give birth in the back of an ambulance. It would be much better for you and the baby to do so at home.’

  ‘She can’t give birth here,’ Marc snaps. ‘She needs proper medical care.’

  ‘Women have given birth at home for generations,’ says the midwife. ‘And Sophia looks fine to me. No cause for panic. The baby’s heart beat is fine too.’

  ‘I don’t want to give birth here,’ I say, aware I’m sort of shouting.