Model Boyfriend

by Stuart Reardon

  If it came to a choice, he’d take Grégoire.

  “So, Nick, we asked you here today to discuss your future with the Cuirassiers.”

  Nick was surprised. This wasn’t what he was expecting.

  “Since you’ve joined us, we have started winning games and the fans are coming back. We think the second half of this season could go really well for us.”

  Bernard nodded at Nick encouragingly.

  “We would like to offer you a two-year contract to continue here as Captain.”

  Nick leaned back in his chair, feeling the quiet satisfaction of being part of the team, a pride in the fact that he was doing his job well.

  He already knew the answer he was going to give them.

  THE INDIAN SUMMER of September had long since fled London, followed by a brief Fall where thick fog hung along the Thames, then quickly turned to hard frosts and car windscreens that had to be scraped every morning.

  Anna’s belly was just beginning to show, and she was torn between feeling fat and frumpy, and proud of the signs of new life growing inside her.

  Filming with Loose Women was going well, and she’d gotten into a routine of working at the West London studio on Tuesdays and Wednesdays to film four shows, then driving to Heathrow with Brendan immediately after filming and flying back on Monday.

  Nick had moved into their rented villa, a mile from Carcassonne, and was enjoying some peace and the change of pace from living with three other men. And maybe, being a decade older than them and the Captain, he needed his own space. He said he’d been playing his guitar again, too.

  The villa had four large bedrooms, two reception rooms, one of which made a fine home office, and it was only a thirty minute drive from the beach. It was also less than an hour from a very popular ski resort in the winter. Nick was a little grumpy about that since his contract with the Cuirassiers didn’t allow him to participate in anything deemed dangerous. Which seeing the number of injuries he’d already gotten from rugby seemed rather bizarre. But that’s the way it was: no skiing for Nick. Brendan however, had already given his seal of approval and promised Anna that his backside was “sensational in salopettes.”

  Trisha had been out to visit twice, and had even persuaded Nick’s parents to travel across once, although they’d preferred to take the Eurostar train from London and spend 12 hours travelling, rather than fly.

  And Anna’s mother was planning to join them for Christmas, which would be spent partly in London and partly in Carcassonne, with a couple of nights in Paris to go shopping, at Brendan’s insistence.

  Unfortunately, the court case with Molly’s publishers was on-going, and Nick had been forced to travel back to London twice to meet with his lawyers who, despite everything Mark Lipman had said, were now preparing to defend the action in court.

  It was stressful at a time when everything else was going well.

  But at least the book had dropped out of the bestseller charts and had gone on to become a byword in bad writing. Brendan told Anna that it had been nominated for the London Literary Review’s ‘Bad Sex in Fiction Award’ which had gained the book even more notoriety since it was published as an autobiography, not fiction.

  Anna didn’t care. She just wanted the whole wretched fiasco to be over with.

  Besides, she had other things on her mind—their baby was coming into the world, and she wanted everything to be perfect. As much as it could be. But having two court cases hanging over them put a damper on everything. Nick was refusing to back down, too, and was proceeding with the tenuous ‘intentional infliction of emotional distress’ case against Molly and Roy Greenside.

  He’d only agree to drop the charges if Molly’s publishers did the same: right now, they were locked in stalemate.

  Anna paced their kitchen in Hampstead, sipping warm water this morning in an attempt to offset the queasiness in her stomach. Morning sickness hadn’t bothered her for a few weeks now, but today was special for all sorts of reasons, so maybe this was just nerves: Nick was coming home, and they were going to find out the sex of their baby.

  Not that they had a preference, only the same hopes as every new parent that their child would be healthy.

  She heard a taxi pull up outside and hurried to the front of house in time to hear a key being inserted into the lock, then Nick was walking through the front door, a beanie pulled low over his head and a huge smile on his face.

  Anna rushed into his waiting arms, relishing again his warmth and strength, soaking up the sensation of security.

  When she lifted her head from his chest, he caught her lips in a quick kiss.

  “Are you ready?” he asked.

  Anna laughed.

  “You’ve just walked through the door! Don’t you want to get a coffee first?”

  Nick shook his head.

  “Nope. I want to get going. I can’t wait to find out if it’s Little Nick or Little Anna you’re carrying in there,” and he touched her swollen belly reverently.

  “Okay, but I have to pee first,” and she pulled a face.

  A couple of minutes later, she’d picked up her coat and purse and climbed into the Rover. Nick was already running the engine, sending warm air from the vents to heat it.

  The hospital was just over a mile from their house, which hadn’t been in Anna’s mind when they’d bought their home, but it was turning out to be very useful, too. On some of the nicer days, she’d walked there for her appointments, especially as parking was usually horrendous.

  Forty minutes later, Anna was wearing an ugly hospital gown and Nick was bouncing lightly on his toes, radiating happiness and a laidback excitement. He kept catching her eye and winking. His certainty that everything would be fine calmed her. He seemed full of energy despite an early start and two flights, with a tedious stopover in Paris.

  She watched as he read the posters on the walls of the maternity waiting room, his nose wrinkling at some of the photographs.

  He was different now, calmer, happier, and the depression that had dogged him since his testimonial had lifted.

  He was different physically, too, having rebuilt the muscle he’d lost when he’d been in New York. His shoulders were heavier and his thighs even thicker. Anna had to look away—her pregnancy hormones were yelling at her to jump him right now.

  At that point, the technician arrived, saving Anna from embarrassing herself.

  “The gel will feel a little cool,” he warned.

  Anna jerked when the liquid was squirted across her lower abdomen. Nick leaned over the technician’s shoulder as the sonogram wand was pressed firmly into the sticky goo, his eyes intent, flipping between Anna, and the confusing black-and-white images on the computer screen.

  The technician frowned, adjusted the wand, and gave them a quick smile.

  “I’m just going to get one of the doctors. I won’t be a minute.”

  Anna’s stomach lurched.

  “Is something wrong?”

  “I’ll be right back.”

  Sudden terror squeezed her heart and she turned terrified eyes to Nick. He looked worried but was trying to hide it. He reached out to hold her hand.

  “It’s alright, luv,” he said.

  The words should have been reassuring, but as the seconds ticked past, Anna felt like crying.

  Please God, please don’t let there be anything wrong with our baby…

  Finally, the technician returned with a doctor.

  “Hello, I’m Dr. Subarashi. I’m just going to take a look.”

  “Okay,” Anna whispered, gripping Nick’s hand even more tightly.

  The doctor pressed the wand over her belly again, a small frown as he concentrated on the computer screen, studying different angles.

  “Well, I think we have a little surprise here,” he said at last, smiling encouragingly.

  “A good surprise?” Anna asked, her voice husky with emotion.

  “I’ll just let you listen to the heartbeats and you’ll see for yourselves.”


  He turned up the volume, and Anna heard an underwater wooshing sound. No, two wooshing sounds.

  Nick stared at the monitor, his eyebrows shooting up.

  “Is that … is that two babies?”

  The doctor smiled at them.

  “Yes, there are two foetuses and they both appear healthy.”

  Anna seemed speechless so Nick fumbled on.

  “But, there was only one baby at seven weeks. She had the scan.”

  The doctor smiled gently.

  “Sometimes it happens that one of the babies hides behind the other during an early scan and doesn’t appear until later. But I can assure you, that you have two healthy babies in there.”

  “Bloody hell!”

  Nick’s knees buckled and he sat heavily in the plastic chair. He was still holding Anna’s hands.

  “Twins!”

  “Congratulations,” said the doctor, looking from one to the other.

  Finally, Nick found his voice again.

  “Can you tell if they’re boys or girls?”

  “I thought you might ask that. As they’re slightly smaller than a single baby, it’s a little hard to tell, but I’d say at this point that it seems likely that you’re carrying twin girls, Ms. Scott.”

  The doctor gave them yet another packet of information and advice that Anna could barely take in, then they were left alone.

  Nick’s face was almost comical, beaming one minute, then seeming disbelieving the next.

  “Wow, we’re having twins.”

  “I know,” Anna said weakly. “I was worried enough about one, but two!”

  “We’ll be fine,” Nick said confidently. “You’ll be amazing, I know you will. Now do we tell my mum first or yours.”

  Anna smiled her first real smile.

  “Let’s get to the car and tell them together.”

  But when they got to the car, Nick leaned across the central console, kissing her hungrily. Anna’s hormones had been jumpstarted and her hands were all over him, tugging at his zipper, as she traced the outline of a thick erection in his jeans.

  The windows misted up, and with a groan, Nick grabbed her wrists and held them tightly.

  “I’m loving your way of celebrating,” he coughed out, “but we’re in the car park of the Royal Free hospital and a little old man just gave me a thumbs up.”

  Anna’s face turned crimson as she peered out of the window, seeing the shuffling gait of an elderly man with a walking stick retreating into the distance.

  “He didn’t!”

  “Swear to God,” Nick laughed. “Come on, let’s go home.”

  “What about telling our mothers?”

  “Later,” he said, slotting her seatbelt into place and reversing quickly.

  TELLING THEIR MOTHERS together had been fun—crazy, what with all the shrieking and yelling, but fun.

  That had been after Nick had taken Anna to bed and shaken the bedframe so hard that a picture had fallen off the wall.

  “I’ll fix it later,” Nick muttered, still catching his breath.

  Anna was limp, lying on her side with her thighs pressed together—even her skin seemed in shock with the thoroughness of Nick’s love-making.

  “Well,” she gasped, “that’s one way to celebrate,” and she rolled onto her back.

  Nick was leaning on his elbow, smiling down at her.

  “You look awful smug,” she commented.

  He grinned.

  “Yeah, we’re having twins. I guess I have super-strength sperm.”

  Anna rolled her eyes.

  “Yes, that must be it.” She paused. “Do you have any twins in your family?”

  He shook his head.

  “Not that I know of. You?”

  “I don’t think so. I’ll ask Mom.”

  Nick stretched out on the bed and Anna snuggled against him, using his arm for a pillow.

  “It is pretty cool,” he said in a low, thoughtful voice. “Wow, two girls. That is definitely not what I expected when I landed at Heathrow today.”

  Anna bit her lip.

  “Good surprise? You’re not disappointed that you won’t have a Little Nick running around?”

  He shook his head.

  “No, not even possible to be disappointed.” He smiled. “I don’t know how to explain it, but as soon as I saw the images, it became real.” He rubbed the centre of his chest with his free hand. “And … I just felt this incredible … love. My child, my children. And when I thought … when the technician went away, God, the thoughts that were running through my head. But then the doctor said twins! I can hardly believe it. But I just feel so…” He shrugged. “It’s intense.”

  Any final hesitation that Anna had felt dissipated for good. Nick was fully on board with this. He’d told her how he felt, that he already loved his unborn daughters.

  “You’re going to be such a great, daddy,” she said softly.

  “I’m going to try.”

  “I know, and you’ll be amazing.”

  “We’ll have to think about names,” he said with a smile. “I’ve always liked the name Ruby.”

  “Oh, that’s sweet! I like that. What about Beth? Do you like that name?”

  Nick nodded, but he had a distant, thoughtful look on his face.

  “I suppose we should set a date. I dunno, shall we get married now?”

  Anna didn’t know whether to kiss him or slap him. Instead, she pulled herself up in bed and glared at him.

  “That has to be the least romantic suggestion ever.”

  Nick smiled up at her, the slight salt and pepper in his beard not at all detracting from his youthful appearance.

  “I don’t know what you mean, luv. That was heartfelt, that was!”

  Anna flopped down on the bed again. If he’d asked her six months ago whether she wanted to get married, she’d have jumped at it, but right now, she had other priorities.

  “No, let’s wait until the babies are born, then go somewhere sunny and relaxing—a family vacation. We could rent a big villa and invite my mom and your parents, Trish, Brendan and any of the guys you want to invite. I think we’ve got enough going on without planning a wedding, too.”

  Nick squinted at her.

  “You sure? We could do it quick and quiet at a Registry Office. What about Marylebone Town Hall?”

  Anna scowled.

  “No way! I’m only getting married once, so I want it to be somewhere lovely, not a Registry Office!”

  Nick grinned.

  “Marylebone is famous. Paul McCartney married Linda there.”

  “I don’t care! I want somewhere with sunshine!”

  Nick shrugged.

  “Fair enough. We’ll do it next year. When I’m not playing.”

  Anna’s breath hitched.

  “Not playing?”

  Nick nodded.

  “The Cuirassiers offered me a two year contract—I turned them down.”

  Anna swallowed.

  “Really? You’ve decided? I mean, you’re sure this is what you want? You love playing there!”

  Nick rolled on his side to face her.

  “Yes, I like playing for them and the season is going well.”

  “But … you don’t want to stay?”

  And the words she didn’t say hung in the air: while you can; while you’re fit enough.

  Nick smiled, his eyes warm and sincere.

  “I know I’m not the sharpest pencil in the box,” he began, earning Anna’s frown, “but everything I want is right here. I’m sorry it’s taken so long to work that out.”

  He held her hand and kissed it, then kissed her belly, his new favourite resting place for his lips.

  “But … you love playing again! And the Cuirassiers have offered you another two years…”

  Nick was shaking his head the whole time.

  “No, I’m not losing a minute more of watching our kids grow up than I have to.” He sighed. “That minute when the technician buggered off to find a doctor,
that was the longest minute of my life. Nothing else mattered but that the babies were healthy. Not that we knew it was two of ‘em then. All I wanted to know was that the baby was okay and that you were okay. Winning didn’t matter, rugby didn’t matter. What matters is what we have here. I don’t have the fire for it anymore. Here, with you and our babies, that’s where I want to be.”

  Gently, he ran his forefinger under Anna’s eyes, feeling the wetness of tears.

  “You’re it for me, Anna.”

  THE CAMPAIGN THAT Nick had shot with Cee Cee was timed to release just before Christmas, and suddenly the adverts for the top-end perfume were everywhere.

  Predictably, his teammates plastered the locker room with the pictures torn out of magazines and newspapers, and Nick had to endure comments about the darkly erotic images and Cee Cee’s extreme youth.

  It brought back all the feelings of unease and increased them a hundred per cent. Nick didn’t think the images looked like him, and his eyes seemed to blaze with fury.

  The perfume soared in popularity leading up to the holiday season, but the pictures only reminded Nick of the frustration he’d felt being in New York, and his disgust at the dual standards of the modelling industry.

  Cee Cee sent him a text message with smiley emojis and a lot of dollar signs. He hoped she was happy.

  He was just pulling another graffitied photocopy of the ad off his locker, one that had given him horns and a tail, when Nick heard his phone ringing. He almost missed Mark Lipman’s call as he stood dripping in the locker room at the Cuirassiers stadium having just finished a gruelling training session.

  He flicked his hair out of his eyes, grabbed a towel with one hand and his ringing phone with the other.

  “Nick! I’ve got something you’re going to want to see—I’m emailing it to you now. I’ll stay on the line while you read it.”

  Nick wrapped the towel around his waist, ignoring the drops of water that trickled down his chest and back.

  He opened the email and read it through while Mark was on speakerphone.

  “Who’s Renata de Luca?” Nick asked.

  “She’s the editor who worked on Molly’s book. And this email from her proves that they knew that you’d say no to a photoshoot with Molly and so deliberately misrepresented who they were. Your contract stipulated a romance novel cover shoot, correct?”