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

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Whitehall Baby: A Surprise Pregnancy, Fake Relationship Romantic Comedy Perfect for Chick Lit Fans Page 11

by Laura Barnard


  I walk into Roger’s office. He’s on his iPhone, no doubt fucking around playing Candy Crush. The lazy fuck.

  ‘Roger, can you please tell me why Charlotte is still out there working at this time?’

  He rolls his eyes. ‘Maybe if she wouldn’t have gone missing for two hours earlier she’d have finished all her work.’

  That’s weird.

  ‘Where was she?’

  ‘Stomach problems, apparently.’

  Shit, I hope she’s okay.

  ‘Whatever, I’m taking her home.’

  ‘Throwing your weight around now she’s your pregnant fiancé, are you?’ he dares ask.

  I scoff back at him. ‘Remember who you’re talking to Roger. I’m your superior. I bet HR would like to hear about you making a pregnant woman work late.’

  He screws his face up. ‘Oh fuck off, Arthur. Don’t pretend you gave a shit when my wife was expecting and you were constantly riding my arse every night for reports.’

  Shit, I suppose I did do that. This pregnancy is making me realise what an arsehole I’ve been.

  ‘Regardless. I’m taking her home.’

  I walk out and nod at her. ‘Get your coat. We’re leaving.’

  Charlotte

  ‘Thanks for getting me out of there,’ I say as soon as we’re home, sitting down on the sofa.

  My butt has never been so grateful for a comfy seat. Roger already hated me. Going missing only fuelled the fire.

  ‘Why were you missing for two hours?’

  Oh god, Roger told him.

  ‘Um… I was sick.’ I take off my shoes. They may be stunning but I don’t see myself wearing them again until after the pregnancy.

  He frowns. ‘Should we be concerned you’re getting sick in the second trimester? Is that normal?’

  I shrug. ‘Who knows. I don’t think there’s anything normal about this pregnancy.’

  He grins and leans down to my stomach. ‘That’s because you’re growing our super baby.’ He cups my stomach affectionately, smiling up at me.

  It’s the most affectionate thing he’s ever done. As if realising this he straightens up, clears his throat and walks to the kitchen. ‘Oh, do you have plans for Christmas Eve?’ he calls back.

  I shrug. ‘Not sure. Oh, but while I remember Eloise is having a Halloween party this weekend and has invited us.’

  ‘Both of us?’ he asks, chewing on his lip.

  ‘Yep. You don’t have to come if you don’t fancy it, but it’ll be nice for me to see some old friends.’

  He nods, as if mulling it over. ‘Okay. I’d like to meet your friends.’

  It’s worrying how happy that makes me.

  ‘Great. What’s happening Christmas Eve?’

  ‘My mum’s annual Christmas Eve party.’

  My stomach drops. Damn it. Now I have to go to that pompous party and enter into Christmas heavily pregnant surrounded by pompous toffs.

  ‘Can’t wait.’

  Saturday 31st October

  Arthur

  Eloise’s Halloween party isn’t going to be my scene but I said yes immediately. I want to be a part of her life and more than that I want her to feel comfortable with me mingling with her friends. It’s in my best interests to get to know these people. After all they will be hanging around with my baby in the future no doubt.

  She looks absolutely adorable dressed as a pumpkin. She already had an orange dress, so she’s stitched on a pumpkin face to where the bump sits and teamed it with black and white striped tights, ankle boots and a green hairband that acts as the pumpkin sprout.

  ‘You sure you’re ready for this?’ she asks as we knock on the door of the Watford flat.

  I grin. She’s so cute when she’s nervous. ‘Too late now.’

  I take her hand in mine and give it a squeeze. She looks down at it with a frown. Oh god, maybe she doesn’t want me touching her like this. There’s so many blurred lines between us.

  Eloise swings the door open to her ground floor flat. She’s dressed as a devil, wearing only a red swimming suit with matching tights, thigh high boots and devil horns. Jesus Christ. I knew she had a fiery side but I’ve never seen her in anything but work wear.

  ‘You’re here!’ she exclaims, seemingly already half cut. ‘Come in.’

  She grabs Charlotte and drags her in. Her hand drops out of mine and I follow behind feeling like a sheep going to the slaughter.

  The whole place is in darkness apart from pumpkin LED lights which are draped amongst crime tape. Well, she definitely went to town. Not that Charlotte didn’t warn me. She said last year they got complaints from the neighbours because their window display was too terrifying for children.

  I follow them down a narrow hallway already crowded with people clutching drinks chatting and into the back kitchen. It’s a small box room with an old-fashioned kitchen last decorated sometime in the eighties.

  Despite the size I count fifteen people squeezed into it. Some are mixing drinks, others sat on the counter eating Pringles from the tin and laughing. When they spot Charlotte they all stop what they’re doing and rush to coo over her bump, tell her how cute she is and how they haven’t seen her for ages. I stand back, feeling like a spare part.

  Maybe I should have just let her come on her own. Maybe she only invited me to be polite and didn’t actually want me here.

  She turns to me, as they still fuss all over her. God, she’s gorgeous. I don’t think I’ll ever tire of looking at her. The best part is she seems completely unaware of it. She smiles self-consciously and puts her hand out for me to take. I step closer and take it, thankful for the lifeline.

  ‘And this is Arthur.’

  ‘Dang!’ her mixed-race friend with the braids says, ‘I heard he was yummy, but I didn’t realise how much of a snack!’

  Err… is it good to be referred to as a snack?

  Eloise and Charlotte start laughing so I grin along feeling like an idiot. Is this how the kids are speaking nowadays? I feel like a dinosaur.

  ‘Thank you?’ I offer, cringing.

  ‘So you’re the guy that got our Char knocked up,’ another with pink hair says with a cheeky grin.

  ‘Hey, he put a ring on it,’ another with long blonde hair says, giving me a kind nod.

  ‘I did indeed.’ Before I have time to reason with myself, I lift our entwined fingers and kiss the back of her hand.

  They all coo with ‘ahs’. Charlotte goes bright red. I love how it’s almost impossible for her to hide her embarrassment. I just don’t know if she’s embarrassed to be associated with me or if it’s from me showing affection.

  A black guy hands me a bottle of Peroni. ‘I think you’re going to need this being around this lot.’ He smiles and its clear in an instant he’s another suffering spouse.

  I smile back, glad for the comradery. Looks like I am going to need it. Long night ahead of me.

  16

  Charlotte

  I can’t believe how well Arthur is getting on with everyone. I mean, of course when we first arrived he looked like he wanted to run in the opposite direction. Especially when Eloise greeted us dressed as a devil slut, but now he’s chatting to the gang like he’s known them for years. They’ve told him all of my cringe worthy stories from back when I was a teenager and he’s laughed along. I know I’m going to get mercilessly ribbed about it later.

  Well that’s if he remembers, he’s had quite a lot to drink. Me being sober I’ve noticed it more, how his shoulders have relaxed, his smile appearing easier. He’s so adorable like this. This guy I could fall in love with. The ‘Time Warp’ comes blasting out of the speakers.

  ‘Oh my god, I love this song!’ I grab him by the shoulders. ‘Come on!’

  I drag him into the sitting room which is the makeshift dance floor. I start doing the dance, but he doesn’t seem to know it, his panicked eyes darting over my moves. Who the hell doesn’t know the ‘Time Warp’? I’d want my money back from that boarding school.

  He co
pies all of us and before we know it he’s doing it to perfection, shaking his shoulders and hips. I’ve never seen him so loose and happy.

  When I look at him right now I’m over the moon he somehow became my baby daddy. I don’t think there’s a better man out there for the job.

  We call a cab soon after as I can tell he’s going to be feeling it in the morning. He cuddles up to me in the back of the black cab, allowing his gorgeous scent to invade my nostrils. God, he smells delicious.

  ‘You had a good time then?’ I ask, grinning back at his sleepy smile. His curls are spilling around his eyes.

  ‘I had the best time. You’re great, you know that? You’re so great.’

  He leans forward and kisses me on the lips. It’s so fleeting I’m not even one hundred percent sure it happened. He rests his head against my shoulder and is asleep in seconds. What the hell did that mean? Or did it mean nothing?

  The cab driver helps me bring him in, he’s such a big bastard. I tip him well and start removing his clothes so that he doesn’t suffocate.

  ‘Ooh, cheeky wife to be!’ he chuckles, still half asleep.

  ‘I’m just trying to make sure you don’t choke in your sleep,’ I answer, fully out of breath from the exertion of trying to help him.

  He squishes his face against the pillow, his eyes shut. ‘You’re going to make such a good wife.’

  I freeze. Wife? That’s the second time he’s said that word. We never talked about actually getting married. This is supposed to be a fake engagement purely for show. But then he did kiss me in the cab. Is he having mixed feelings? They say the truth comes out when you’re drunk.

  God, why are we always so messy? I strip out of my dress and lie down next to him, knowing I’ll be tossing and turning all night over-analysing everything.

  Sunday 1st November

  Charlotte

  When I wake I’m alone and its already nearly midday. Wow I slept like a log. All of that worrying must have exhausted me. I wander into the living room to see Arthur just coming in all sweaty from a run. How the hell can he be exercising the day after a session? Is it weird I want to lick the sweat from him? Yes, Charlotte, it is.

  ‘Hey, how are you feeling?’ I ask, self-consciously busying myself by playing with the coffee machine. I wonder if he remembers last night.

  ‘Ugh, better now,’ he chuckles, still out of breath. ‘I can’t believe how much I put away last night. I felt rough this morning.’

  ‘I bet.’ I push my wayward hair down. He still manages to look delectable. ‘I actually feel exhausted and I didn’t even drink.’

  ‘It’ll be all that dancing.’ He winks and my heart flip flops.

  Okay so he remembers the dancing. I suppose you don’t forget you learnt the ‘Time Warp’. I was twelve at my auntie’s New Year’s Eve party.

  ‘I’m just gonna have a shower and then I was thinking we could go shopping for nursery bits?’

  Oh my god. And now he wants to buy baby stuff? Has he morphed into my dream man overnight? I need to get him drunk more often.

  ‘Okay. That sounds great.’

  Two hours later we’re in a baby shop at Westfields shopping centre. I need to somehow also buy breast pads today. I know it’s stupid to not want him to know that my boobs have started to leak, but well, it’s weird. I still haven’t come to terms with it and it’s my body.

  ‘I like this,’ I say, feeling the fleecy blanket of a woodland theme.

  He scrunches his face up. ‘I don’t.’

  ‘Why not?’ There I was thinking he wouldn’t care and he’s gone the complete other way and become a fussy bastard. What’s not to like about a woodland theme?

  He pouts. ‘What are we trying to achieve with a woodland theme? Do we want them to think they’re sleeping in the woods? Or are you hoping they become a landscaper?’

  I grit my teeth. ‘I just thought it was charming. You know there is such a thing as over thinking.’

  He rolls his eyes.

  ‘What about this one?’ I point to a grey cloud blanket. There’s a yellow star pillow attached to it with ‘dream big little one’ written on it. It’s adorable.

  He raises one eyebrow. ‘So we’re encouraging them to put their head in the clouds and daydream?’

  ‘Jesus,’ I snap, my jaw tensing. ‘Then what about this? A nautical theme?’

  ‘Hello sailor,’ he jokes in a camp voice.

  ‘Ugh, you are impossible!’ I storm off needing some space between us. We’re never going to agree to anything at this rate. Where’s the guy that was happy with the Wednesday Adams nursery?

  I wander over to the buggies. Hmm, this one is nice. Black with rose gold handles, chic without being showy.

  ‘I like this one,’ he says appearing at my side.

  My mouth nearly touches the floor. Are we actually agreeing on something? Praise the Lord!

  I check the price tag. Shit the bed. Nearly a grand and a half for the entire travel system.

  ‘Er, let’s look at the ones over there.’

  I go to move but he takes my arm, stopping me. I look up to see him studying my face. ‘Why are you being weird?’

  ‘No reason.’ My voice sounds high and screechy. Way to act weird.

  He keeps hold of me while the other hand reaches for the price tag. He checks it and seems completely unshocked.

  ‘Is it because of the price?’ He narrows his eyes, his lips pursed.

  See rich people drop that kind of money all the time and don’t even think about it. I might be on slightly more money than my old job and he might be insisting I don’t pay any rent, but I still don’t want to pay that kind of money. It’s just a buggy. Hell, my first car cost that much.

  ‘I just think we can get something more reasonable.’

  He rubs his forehead. ‘Why?’

  I sigh. I don’t have the energy for a fight, but I want to be clear about this.

  ‘Because I want to pay half.’ I brace for impact. I know this isn’t going to go down well.

  He drops my arm, obviously blindsided.

  ‘Charlotte, don’t be ridiculous.’ He shakes his head in disbelief. ‘I make more money, it only makes sense that I’ll pay for it.’

  Typical rich person, throwing his money around.

  ‘It’s my baby too, so it only makes sense that we go halves.’

  ‘Halfsies?’ He mocks, one eyebrow raised, the ghost of a smile on the edge of his mouth. ‘You’re being ridiculous.’

  Hot anger surges through my body. I despise when he calls me ridiculous. It makes me feel like some silly little girl that can’t be trusted to make a decision.

  Take a deep breath, Charlotte. Now is not the place to murder him. Far too many witnesses. I’ve watched enough true crime to know how to do it right.

  ‘I’m just being practical. You’re the one always talking about being a team. This is how being a team works.’

  He flattens his lips. ‘You’re just being stubborn. There really is no need.’ He steps closer, completely into my space. So close I can small his minty breath mingled with his aftershave. It’s unfair. He knows his scent makes me silly. He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, causing goosebumps to rise on my arms.

  ‘When are you going to realise that I’m here to take care of you?’

  My stomach trembles with fear. Fear of relenting and letting myself rely on him, only to be let down and left high and dry. The thought makes my stomach churn. I don’t want to set myself up for disappointment. I’m better off relying on myself, always have been. Even my own parents have let me down multiple times.

  Only… hang on a minute. I don’t think my trembly tummy is all down to my feelings. I think my stomach is in trouble. It rolls again, making an audible sound. Oh my god.

  Right on cue I release a fart. A silent but deadly fart.

  My eyes widen the second I smell it. I thought it would stay in the fake leather maternity leggings longer, sadly not. They’re so tight I imagine them inflati
ng instead.

  I grab Arthur and drag him away. I have turned into a treacherous beast of a woman and he is never to know.

  ‘Come on. I want to look at these buggies over there.’

  He stiffens his posture, head held high defiantly. ‘I’ve already told you, cost is not a problem.’

  ‘No, come on!’ I beg, trying to communicate with my eyes that we need to escape. ‘I mean it.’

  I’m sweating now. This cute peach jumper is doing nothing to help the situation. The minute he sniffs it the will be game over. He’ll never be able to fancy me or maybe even look at me again.

  ‘You need to stop being so—’ he pauses.

  Oh no. He’s smelt it. My eyes widen in horror. It’s the beginning of the end.

  ‘Ugh, what is that smell?’ He starts coughing. Shit, it’s so potent it’s going to kill him.

  I have no other choice. I turn and run before anyone else has a chance to smell it. Out of the shop and away from the nuclear gas that came out of my arse. I’m sure someone will run to his aid if he is dying. People don’t ignore sexy people struggling.

  My stomach churns again, only this time I know I need the actual toilet. Shit. Literally.

  I search around frantically for a sign of the toilets. I need to get there, like yesterday. I can’t see a sign. Dammit, this is my first time to Westfields. I normally shop online or at Brent Cross. I don’t have my bearings and I’m breaking in new grey ankle boots. What the hell was I thinking?

  ‘Charlotte?’ Arthur’s here again having followed me out. Okay, so he’s not dead. ‘Was that you?’ he whispers.

  Jesus, is he trying to kill me with humiliation?

  ‘Where are the toilets?’ I shout, already deciding on a direction and running towards it. ‘Where are the toilets?’ I shout at passers-by minding their own business. They stare back with wide eyes, obviously thinking I’m crazy.

  One woman finally points, someone taking pity. ‘They’re at the end, love.’

  Of fucking course they are. I start running, but it’s like every leap I take just has my arse trying to expel it. I power walk instead, but it’s just as bad. Sweat is running down my neck from the stress of trying to hold it in. There is literally no way I am going to be able to make it in time.

 

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