Whitehall Baby: A Surprise Pregnancy, Fake Relationship Romantic Comedy Perfect for Chick Lit Fans

by Laura Barnard

  I creep out of bed and tip toe to the kitchen. It takes me a while to figure out his fancy coffee machine, but I finally get it working while I stuff a croissant in my mouth. I always wake up ravenous these days, plus the fact all I had for dinner was a packet of Maltesers. Mmm, it’s so buttery soft. I can feel it going straight to my thighs.

  I turn round to find Arthur leaning against the bedroom doorframe, grinning, dressed in only boxers and a t-shirt. My god his calves are glorious. Muscly with the faintest smattering of dark hair.

  I must look a mess, a whole croissant hanging from my mouth, my hair like a bird’s nest. I haven’t even checked to see if I have sleep in my eyes.

  ‘Good morning,’ he says, lips hooking into a smirk. His hair is ruffled with its natural curl. It makes him look younger, more carefree.

  Will our baby have curly hair? I imagine a little boy like him, big brown eyes and curls. My ovaries quiver. Yeah, yeah, we’re already pregnant.

  ‘Err, hi.’ I pick the croissant out of my mouth. ‘Sorry to just help myself. I woke up starving.’

  ‘It’s fine,’ he says with a dismissive wave. ‘My housekeeper keeps buying them even though I tell her I don’t eat breakfast.’

  ‘You don’t eat breakfast?’ I repeat in horror.

  What kind of a freak am I having a baby with?

  He shrugs. ‘They normally feed us a breakfast buffet in the morning meeting at work around eleven.’

  By eleven I’ve had toast, a crumpet, kit kat and a pastry.

  I take the mug of coffee I’ve made and give it to him, starting another one for myself.

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘So, what happened last night? Was I just passed out and dribbling when you came in?’

  He laughs, his eyes kind. ‘You weren’t dribbling, but yeah. To be honest, I didn’t think you were going to take me up on my offer.’

  ‘Honestly, neither did I. But I was just so exhausted last night. The thought of the commute almost had me in tears.’

  I do feel well rested. Although I have no idea how I’ll rock up at work wearing the same outfit as yesterday. It’s not like people won’t notice the same bright red mid length dress. It’s quite a showstopper.

  His eyes turn serious, earnest. ‘I mean it, you know. I’m happy for you to crash here.’

  I need to regain some control here; stop looking into those deep brown eyes and concentrate. Lay some ground rules.

  ‘Okay, but I won’t be sharing your bed like last night. We need to keep some emotional distance.’

  He leans on the breakfast bar, his strong arms tensing to show off his biceps. I can’t stop thinking about that night when he took me over this very breakfast bar.

  ‘You scared you’ll catch feelings for me?’ He grins.

  It’s at moments like this it’s all too easy to forget he’s the serious Cabinet Secretary and believe he’s just a gorgeous guy with a flirty streak.

  Too late. Feelings have already started brewing. Long ago if I’m honest with myself. I’ve just never met anyone else like him.

  ‘Nope. Just don’t want you falling in love with me,’ I joke back, pretending to be the strong, independent woman I like to think I am. ‘I’m a very busy woman.’

  He throws his head back and laughs. ‘Don’t worry. I don’t fall in love. I don’t have the time.’

  That’s what I’m worried about.

  I got out of there as quickly as possible. I shouldn’t have done it. Yes, I got the best night’s sleep I’ve had in what feels like forever, but I’m just tangling up my feelings for him. He is the father of my child, and that’s all. I can’t start dreaming of a happily ever after. The guy said himself he doesn’t even want kids. He’s going to think I’ve trapped him. Be pissed off I didn’t get an abortion.

  Every time I catch sight of him in the office I have fantasies of having sex with him again. Just once. Before I become a big fat whale. Before I kiss goodbye to my single and fancy-free life for good. It’s true what they say, you never know what you’ve got until its gone.

  God, the idea of being tied to this urchin growing inside me for the next eighteen years has me feeling nauseous.

  ‘I mean, would it really be the worst idea?’ I ask Eloise in the toilets as I change into the fresh outfit she’s brought in for me. She’s wisely chosen her green leopard print shirt dress. It’s the only thing that would have a chance of fitting me.

  She snorts a laugh. ‘Having sex with your baby daddy? Well, at least you know you can’t get pregnant. Again.’

  I chuckle a laugh. ‘Very true. I am ridiculously horny though.’

  Just the thought of being able to trail my fingertips down his muscled chest again has me verging on dribbling.

  ‘But…’ she warns with a wag of her finger, ‘he could always actually look at your stomach and realise it’s gotten bigger.’

  ‘Why, can you tell?’ I ask, exiting the cubicle and staring at my reflection in the mirror in a moment of panic.

  I suck in my stomach. I must get a hold of myself before I’m having to be crane lifted from the building.

  ‘No, but you will soon.’

  It’s like I have a loud ticking clock reminding me that time is running out. My life will be over soon.

  ‘All the more reason to do it now. Get it out of my system.’ I’m justifying it to myself more than to her.

  ‘I mean, it’s up to you.’ She goes behind me and zips me up. ‘But don’t say I didn’t warn you when it gets complicated.’

  ‘It’s already complicated,’ I counter. ‘This part isn’t. He will have no problem separating sex from emotions. The man has no heart.’

  ‘What about you? Are you going to be able to separate sex from feelings?’

  I sigh. Too late for all that. I’m blaming it on the hormones though. As soon as I deliver this child I’ll be back to thinking rationally.

  ‘I already fancy the fuck out of him and I’m having his baby. So what’s the harm?’

  Arthur

  I’ve found myself walking past her desk far more than I should. I know it’s stupid, but there’s just something about her that seems to attract me towards her like a magnet. Not that she wants to explore it. She made that pretty clear this morning when she told me to keep my hands off her. Probably for the best, I don’t have time for those sorts of complications anyway.

  I let myself in at home, throwing my satchel to the floor. I sigh, kick off my shoes and then spot her on the sofa. Charlotte. She came again.

  Talk about mixed messages.

  She stands up and walks over to me, not saying a word, her expression unreadable.

  I remain standing, not sure where she’s going with this. She smiles, opening up my suit jacket, slipping her warm delicate hands in and around my waist.

  Woah.

  I look down into her hazel eyes, which still seem unsure. What is with this woman? I thought she wasn’t interested.

  She presses her face into my shirt. ‘You look like you’ve had a tough day,’ she says, her words vibrating against my chest.

  I close my eyes for a second, savouring her being so close. Letting myself relax into her warmth. She might change her mind in a second.

  ‘You could say that.’

  She leans back to look up at me. Her eyes draw me in, something in them is raw and vulnerable. I know I shouldn’t, but I stare at her lips, desperate to feel them on mine again. God, what I’d do for one more taste.

  She lifts onto her tip toes, her lips almost on mine. Her gaze lifts, seeking for permission. I close the short distance, my arms crushing her to me. I kiss the fucking life out of her, scared she’ll change her mind any moment.

  She pulls back and I feel a sharp pain in my chest at the distance. Please don’t say she’s changing her mind.

  ‘Just sex,’ she whispers, eyes darker than a second ago. ‘No feelings.’

  She’s finally speaking my language.

  She pushes my suit jacket off my shoulders, dropping
it to the floor. Then she’s at my shirt buttons, her frantic hands desperate to feel my skin. I reach round to find the zip of her dress, yanking it down, as my mouth drops onto her shoulder. I lick and suck her skin like nectar to a starving man. I pull the dress down to her waist, my hands tucking into her stomach to press it down. She freezes.

  ‘Are you okay?’ I ask.

  ‘Yeah fine.’ She grabs my hand and puts it over her breast. ‘Just feeling a bit bloated.’

  I grin back at her. She’s so unbelievably cute.

  Monday 21st September

  Charlotte – 23 Weeks Pregnant

  Well damn. This was a good idea. Two weeks of non-stop sex. We’ve done it all around the apartment, even on the balcony overlooking the Thames. I feel like I can’t get enough of him. Which is a problem. I was sure by now I’d be sated and have enough in my spank bank to last a lifetime. But it’s like every time we do it it’s bittersweet, another reminder that this baby is going to ruin everything. Once we stop I’ll probably never have sex again.

  I feel bad blaming the baby for all of this, but it’s my reality. There goes my life in London. Back home I’ll be the disgraced single mother I promised myself I’d never be. God, what if the baby is a big bastard like him and I’m left with a gaping big hole of a baggy vagina? I shudder at the thought of it.

  The hardest thing of all is that he’s made sure the fridge is stocked with plenty of Maltesers and other carby snacks that I know he doesn’t eat himself. A big beautiful specimen of a man like that doesn’t get built by that kind of food.

  Him being sweet is having my hormones confuse everything. God, if he could just fall in love with me. It would be so much easier.

  But I already know a man like that is only in love with his job. He told me himself.

  Tonight is the last time. I know I’ve said that the last few times, but it has to stop. I’m getting addicted. That and I can’t suck my tummy in any longer. Damn those delicious snacks.

  I’m on top with his sheets wrapped around my stomach, his hands on my waist as I ride him. I savour the feeling of fullness, so so close to orgasm I can feel the tingles beginning to crawl up my spine. That’s when… I feel it. A weird dropping sensation in my stomach. As if I’ve just gone down a dip on a rollercoaster. What the hell? I look down to see if he’s noticed anything, his eyes are wide open. Shit.

  ‘What the hell was that?’ he asks, his eyes practically bulging out of their sockets.

  ‘Err…’. I quickly hop off him and wrap the blanket closer around myself. Was that the baby kicking for the first time? … while I’m having sex with its father? Far too gross to contemplate. ‘I don’t know.’

  I look away from him, my mind racing. I need to think of something and quickly. But I was so close to an orgasm, my brain is scrambled.

  He touches my chin, turning me to look at him. Concern is etched all over his face. It makes my heart hurt. Once he finds out he’ll never look at me like that again.

  ‘What is it? Are you feeling unwell?’ He slips his other hand under the cover onto my stomach.

  That’s when it happens again. Definitely more like a kick this time. His eyes go, as if by slow motion, from my stomach up to my face. Sweat prickles on my neck. This isn’t good, any dignity I had left from telling him is gone.

  He roughly yanks away the blanket exposing my swollen belly. It’s still far more I’ve eaten two Christmas dinners than pregnant, but it’s big for me. He grips at it with both hands, staring, mouth agape. There’s no escaping this.

  ‘Are you…? Could you be…?’ He swallows, his eyebrows bunched. ‘Charlotte, what is happening right now?’

  ‘I…’ I push his hands away and stand up, grabbing at my dress on the floor. ‘I have to go.’

  I need to get out of here. Have a chance to think clearly.

  ‘Charlotte.’ He sits up properly, the muscles in his stomach tightening deliciously. ‘What the hell is going on?’

  ‘I have to go,’ I repeat again, tying my navy ruffle waist wrap dress around myself hastily.

  He jumps out of bed just as I’m putting my black patent stilettos on.

  ‘Not until you explain what just happened.’ He looks more furious now, a vein on his neck throbbing. It’s easier to be angry with him when he’s like this.

  ‘I’ll explain another time.’ I turn, attempting to flee again.

  Turns out when it comes down to it its more humiliating than anything to admit I’m pregnant. It weirdly feels all of my fault.

  He grabs my arm, yanking me back. ‘You’ll explain right fucking now!’ he shouts, his cheeks red.

  My chin wobbles, tears springing to life behind my lids.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I say on a sob.

  He softens slightly. ‘Sorry for what?’

  I sit down on the edge of the bed. I have to say it sometime. The game is up. ‘I’m pregnant.’

  He pales, staring at me with wide eyes for countless silent minutes. Unbearable minutes. Minutes I wish I were dead.

  ‘Wow, I’m so sorry.’ He shakes his head in disbelief. ‘I didn’t realise you were involved with anyone else.’

  Oh my god. This is awkward.

  I look up at him, torn between the waves of shame washing over me and knowing I shouldn’t feel them at all.

  ‘I’m not. It’s yours.’

  I brace myself for him to start shouting, but what I really don’t expect is for him to start laughing. I stare incredulously back at him.

  ‘Very funny. We’ve only been fucking for two weeks.’

  My heart shrivels in my chest. Shit, he thinks this happened within the last two weeks. Has he completely forgotten the first time?

  ‘You don’t believe me?’ I can’t hide the hurt from my voice. I never ever wanted to be in a position where the father of my child didn’t believe the baby was his. I’m such a cliche.

  ‘I just think you must be wrong.’ He nods, blinking rapidly, as if adamant about his decision.

  My pulse fastens, rage flooding my system. Fuck him. I’m not being made out to be some slag.

  ‘You know what?’ I stand up, grabbing my bag. ‘Maybe I am mistaken. Because I thought you had to be a fucking man in order to put a baby in someone’s stomach and last time I checked you were just a selfish excuse of a human being!’

  I run from the apartment, tears streaming down my face. I don’t stop until I’m near the tube. Well, that went… terribly.

  Tuesday 22nd September

  Arthur

  I didn’t sleep at all last night. Pregnant. Fucking pregnant. I’ve been shagging a pregnant woman? I suppose now that I’ve sat down and thought about it her tits have got bigger and she did seem slightly larger around the waist and hips, but not enough for me to expect she’s pregnant. That’s the last thing I would have guessed. The way she eats it was no surprise she was getting bigger. I just figured she’d fallen off the diet wagon.

  She says its mine. Could it really be from that one night all those months ago? I googled it and you only start to feel the baby move past sixteen weeks. Is that why she got the job at Whitehall? To be close with me? Has the whole thing been a set up from the very beginning? Trap a rich successful man like me with a baby. Get set up for life.

  But even as I think it, I know that’s not Charlotte. She’s just not like that. She’s pure. Almost verging on naive. That’s one of the things I like about her most. Fuck, do I like her? Or do I just enjoy fucking her? Having company? Someone to sleep next to me.

  So I’m waiting at her desk the next morning with a decaf coffee and a croissant. I’ve already been waiting a while. Maybe she’s called in sick. Couldn’t bear to face me.

  She finally rounds the corner, looking terrible. Her eyes are tired, red rimmed from what I imagine is a night full of crying; someone accusing you of being a loose woman will do that to you. Her skin is grey from what looks like exhaustion.

  ‘Arthur,’ she says when she spots me. She gulps and makes her way over, almost fa
lling over. I catch her just in time. She feels weak and fragile in my arms.

  ‘Have you eaten this morning?’ I ask. It comes out more of an accusation.

  She snatches the croissant from my hands and takes a bite.

  ‘Now I have,’ she snaps.

  ‘Aren’t your house mates looking after you?’ I lower my voice and move closer to her. So close that her flowery perfume creeps up my nose. ‘Do they know?’

  She shrugs. ‘They know. They just don’t really care. They’re more worried about finding a new roommate.’

  I narrow my eyes at her. ‘Why would they be finding a new roommate? Where are you going?’

  She sits down, sipping her coffee. She recoils, twisting her lips. ‘Ugh, is this decaf?’

  ‘Yes,’ I say through gritted teeth. As if I’m going to give a pregnant woman caffeine. ‘Where are you going, Charlotte?’ I’m losing my temper with her. It’s taking all of my restraint not to strangle her.

  ‘I’m allowed one nice coffee a day.’

  ‘Where, Charlotte?’ I practically growl. ‘Stop avoiding the question.’

  The woman is infuriating.

  She looks around quickly to check no one is listening. ‘I plan to move home to either my mum or dads when the baby is born.’

  I suppose that’s a rational decision. Get all the support she can. I hear babies are hard work.

  ‘Are they local?’

  She scoffs. ‘Depends if you think Devon is local.’

  ‘Devon? Fucking Devon?’ I’ve raised my voice so high people are stopping to stare. I take her arm and guide her into Roger’s empty office.

  ‘This baby is mine, right?’ I say as soon as the door is shut.

  She folds her arms across her chest and rolls her eyes. ‘Oh, so now you’ve started to believe me, have you?’