Dysfunctional Hearts

by L. S. Pullen

  Chapter 43

  Charlie

  I’m in awe of the female human body. I purchased this book because I wanted to know how our baby is growing and every week that passes, I fall in love a little more with someone I am yet to meet.

  Seventeen weeks pregnant.

  Did you know our baby is now the size of an avocado? Gaining weight, and even has eyebrows and eyelashes, unbelievable.

  Sophie has beautiful eyelashes. If we have a girl, I hope she looks just like her Mumma.

  Twenty weeks pregnant.

  It wasn’t easy finding somewhere that had a slushy machine, but when she mentioned loving them growing up and how she hasn’t had one in years—and knowing how nervous she is about the twenty-week scan—I wanted to get her one.

  Before I pull away from the corner shop, I grab my phone.

  Today our baby is already the size of a beef tomato. I’m coming for you, be there in 2 mins. Oh, and I got you a slush puppy.

  Bubbles appear, so I wait for her reply.

  Really, red or blue?

  I can’t help but laugh.

  Both.

  I glance down at my phone and smile at her response.

  My favourite.

  Twenty-three weeks pregnant.

  It’s cheesy, I know, but I love it. I grab for my phone and laugh to myself when I press send.

  It takes two to mango.

  A vibration alerts me to a reply almost instantly.

  ??

  I laugh, and the sound of my neighbour’s bulldog barking echoes through my open window, reminding me of something else I learnt today, on my baby discovery findings.

  Our baby is now the size of a mango and guess what else?

  I know for a fact she’ll be smiling at my first text now.

  I don’t know, is this another joke?

  I roll my eyes.

  No, the baby can hear now.

  I wonder if the baby will love Sophie’s voice and her singing as much as I do…

  Sophie

  Twenty-seven weeks pregnant.

  Finally. Sinking into the sofa, I pull my feet up when a buzzing from the other side of the room catches my attention. I push myself up and smile when I reach for my phone and swipe the screen. I never know what he’s going to send me next.

  Can you believe our baby is double the weight it was last week?

  Yes, I can.

  I feel like I’m double my weight.

  I dig into the jumbo bag of chip sticks. No wonder.

  You’re growing a new life Soph, size of a Broccoli head.

  I laugh with my mouth full and spittle of crisps land on my phone. Lovely.

  Thirty-two weeks pregnant.

  “Sophie, your phone’s buzzing,” yells Rachel from the kitchen. Seriously, how does she do that? I’m in the same room as my phone and I didn’t hear it. I pull out my bag from under the counter, it’s buried in here somewhere.

  “Ha, ha, got it.”

  “Got what?”

  I wave my phone at her and swipe the screen.

  What do you call a fruit that goes into space?

  I shake my head.

  “What are you smiling at?” Rachel asks, peeping over my shoulder.

  I wave my phone at her. “You know the texts Charlie sends me each week?”

  She covers her heart with her hand and flutters her eyelashes. “So romantic, and don’t roll your eyes at me, it’s super sweet,” she says.

  “Yeah, it’s sweet, but I have no idea what the answer to his joke is?”

  She grabs my phone to read his message.

  “A fruit that goes into space?” Her face scrunches in confusion.

  I take it back and type out a reply.

  No idea?!

  I lean against the counter and Rachel squeezes next to me, her eyes glued to the screen.

  A coco-naut

  “What?” Rachel asks me. I just shrug.

  Our bambino is now the size of a coconut.

  I suddenly don’t feel so great…a whole bloody coconut. How was it not so long ago it was the size of a lime now it’s a coconut?

  “Ha, that was a good one. I get it, a coco-naut,” she says, laughing to herself. Her eyes go wide. “What is it, what’s wrong?”

  “How am I meant to squeeze out a coconut?”

  She shakes her head. “No, it’ll be bigger than that.”

  “I need to sit down.”

  She moves out of the way of my belly and follows me over to one of the tables.

  “I wish I could tell you it’s not that bad, but honestly, when I was in labour with Molly, it was worse. But I will say this, as soon as she was born, I forgot the pain. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve never been so exhausted, but it was also exhilarating. I can’t put it into words, but I assure you, when you think you’re at your weakest and think you can’t endure another contraction, you will. You’ll find a hidden strength you never knew you had.”

  I stare at Rachel completely flabbergasted. Just when I was about ready to have a full-on panic attack, she swoops in and surprises the hell out of me.

  “Wow, I don’t think in all the time I’ve known you, you’ve ever said something so heartfelt.”

  She winks. “Don’t tell anyone.”

  Since working with her, I’ve seen her softer side. Molly is the best thing to ever happen to her.

  Chapter 44

  Charlie

  Two Weeks Later

  I didn’t have to lie to myself, but I did—my pride and arrogance blinded me. I’ve been a stubborn, foolish bastard—punishing Sophie for not telling me as soon as she knew the baby was mine. And that’s why I felt so…hurt. But now all I want is for us to start again. I want us to have a chance at being together before the baby arrives and after.

  She’s slowly been letting me back in, but it’s mainly to discuss the baby. Still, it gives me hope. I’ll take whatever she’s willing to give me. Lately, the banter has resumed between us, but only at appointments or when I go to see her at work. I haven’t been to her house in months and she hasn’t been to mine.

  Nate and Felicity’s has become a Switzerland of sorts—our safe space where things are impartial and there’s no expectations.

  I know it’s late, but I’m in a bit of a tight spot and I need your help, please?

  I own a bar, so I wouldn’t exactly call just after ten late, but I know how tired she’s been, so yeah, for her, it’s late.

  Are you okay?

  I drum my fingers on the bar and take another swig of my beer.

  I will be if you can come help me?

  Okay, what the hell is going on? I give up on the texting and head out back dialling her number.

  She answers on the first ring. “Hi,” she says, her voice echoes.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask, pacing.

  She lets out a sigh. “I wouldn’t ask, but I really need your help. You have my spare key, don’t you?”

  I haven’t taken it off my set of keys since we had a spare cut when we had her locks changed.

  “Of course.”

  “You’ll need to let yourself in.” Her voice is resigned, and now I’m worried.

  “Okay, I can be with you in say twenty minutes or so.”

  “Okay.”

  I say bye to Olly, who nods, serving a group of squawking women on a hen do, and I fist-bump Jase on my way out.

  “Later, boss.”

  I roll my eyes. They know I don’t like being called boss but when your head doorman could snap you like a twig and your assistant manager spars like a pro, you learn when to let that shit go.

  “Bye, man.”

  I rush to the taxi stand and hail a cab since I’ve had a few tonight.

  Truth is, I’ve been drinking more than I normally would on my rare nights off. I don’t even need to be there as much as I do. I have a good team, but it keeps me busy.

  Local traffic is light, so I make it to hers give or take a few minutes.

  I knock even though she told me
to let myself in. “It’s me,” I call out as I enter and close the front door behind me. The only light is coming from the upstairs landing.

  “Hello,” she calls out.

  I take the stairs two at a time. “Sophie?”

  “In here,” she replies from behind the closed bathroom door.

  My gut clenches. The last time I was up here was when she’d been attacked. I swallow, done with the unease, and palm the doorknob. “Is everything okay?” I ask. What a stupid arse question—it’s why I’m here, isn’t it?

  “No, can you please come help me?”

  I know without even seeing her face, she’s flushed; I can hear it in her voice. Slowly, I push the door open, unsure what on earth is going on. The smell of scented candles hits me first and then my eyes are drawn to her in the bath, barely covering herself with a flannel.

  It takes me a moment to gather my thoughts. She’s naked in the bath, the remanence of a bubble bath, but any bubbles are now long gone.

  But it’s not her being naked which completely stops me in my tracks, it’s her swollen stomach—all baby—and it’s the most beautiful sight. Even though she’s been suffering the past couple of weeks, she never complains.

  My eyes dart to her face. I try to swallow, my throat tight, and she squirms under my gaze.

  “I can’t get out,” she says, her cheeks turning crimson.

  I bite my lip to hold back my laughter. “What do you mean, you can’t get out?”

  Her eyes dart to mine and go wide. “Exactly what I just said, I can’t get out.”

  “Oh, you’re serious.” I move towards her.

  “Of course, I’m bloody serious. Do you think I’d have called you if I wasn’t?”

  I’ve always loved the feisty side of Sophie. I hold my hands up. “Sorry, I didn’t know what to expect but this most definitely wasn’t it.”

  I try not to laugh but it’s no easy feat, and it’s not from the situation she’s found herself in, but from her reaction to it.

  “It’s not funny, Charlie, can you help me or not?”

  She lets out a small shiver and I walk closer to the tub, dipping in my fingers.

  “Fucking hell, Soph, the water’s cold.”

  “No shit, Sherlock,” she replies dryly.

  I can’t help but grimace; she doesn’t swear, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to look a gift horse in the mouth. This was fate. I take a step back and sit on the closed toilet seat.

  Yes, I’m a cruel bastard, but desperate times and all that. I cross my arms over my chest. “Okay, I’ll help you out. But I have some conditions.”

  She cuts her eyes to me. “You have got to be flipping kidding me. Forget it, I’ll call the fire brigade.”

  I stand quickly and grab her phone from her hand. No way in hell will I let them see her like this. Nope, not fucking happening.

  “Sophie, I just want you to agree to talk to me properly. Not just about the baby, but about us. Because, Soph, regardless of everything that’s happened, I want to wipe the slate clean. And I have hope there can be an us.”

  She shivers and now I feel like an absolute dick. She deliberates my words for a moment and nods her head once. With that, I walk toward the end of the tub where her feet are and pull out the plug.

  As the water begins to recede, I hunt for a towel and grab the one off the back of the door—it’s frayed at the edges and it’s seen better days. But I don’t want her freezing any more than she probably is as the bath’s draining. I pass it to her and she lays it over her breasts and protruding stomach.

  “Was that what I think it was?” I ask in amazement. I swear I saw the baby move.

  “Yeah, she’s fidgety lately. Running out of room but more so when you’re about. I think it’s your voice.”

  She runs her hand over her stomach, and I have a twinge of guilt. I’ve missed being able to do that as her significant other. If we were together, it wouldn’t just be the occasional, do you want to feel it?

  Reaching out, she says, “Give me your hand.”

  It takes me a moment to register and then I’m placing my hand in hers.

  She moves the towel aside and lays my palm over her belly and that’s when I feel the kick.

  My throat tightens and my nose tickles like this is more personal, more intimate. It’s how I wished it has been the whole term not just because she’s stuck in the bath.

  “Phenomenal,” I whisper. My face aches from how wide my smile is—completely in awe that she has our baby in there. I clear my throat. “You said she, do you think it’s a girl?” I ask.

  We chose not to find out the sex. If she had said she wanted to know, I would have been fine with that, too, but she said it didn’t matter to her as long as baby was healthy, so she’d prefer for it to be a surprise.

  She nods, smiling down at her hand covering mine.

  The plug hole makes a sucking, popping sound as the last of the water drains away. I move back and hold out my hands. She eyes them, bewildered.

  “Come, I’ll help you up,” I say.

  “But…”

  I reach down and take her hands in mine. I pull her slowly to her feet.

  “What the f…” she doesn’t finish. Instead, she grapples with the towel as I pull her up into a standing position.

  “Come on, let’s get you out and dry.” I hold out my hand and she waddle, wobbles as she steps over and onto the bath mat.

  “But I was stuck,” she says, her cheeks flaming.

  I shrug. “You were, but we drained the water.”

  I can see from her expression she still doesn’t get it.

  “I saw it on one of those emergency-service programmes. A pregnant woman was stuck in the bath and when the fire brigade arrived, the first thing they tried was draining the water and viola,” I say, bowing with a wink.

  She lets out a small laugh, but it’s quickly replaced with a rush of tears. What the fuck?

  Without thinking, I bring her into my chest…well, as much as her stomach will allow, but it only causes her to cry harder. When her crying eases, I walk us into her room and sit her down on the edge of the bed.

  “We need to talk.” I spot my t-shirt, taken back that she actually still wears it. I pass it to her, turning my back. The polite thing would be to leave her alone but I’m not taking any chances.

  “What are all of these?” I ask. The wall is stacked with plastic boxes three high and four in length. I hear a muffled sound and then I sense her behind me. I glance over my shoulder but she just shrugs.

  “Some bits I’ve been buying, getting ready for when she gets here.”

  “Oh.” A wave of guilt washes over me. “We should’ve been getting stuff like this together.”

  She comes up beside me. “It’s fine, Charlie, it’s just something I needed to do. Flick calls it nesting.”

  I reach down in the space between us and take her hand in mine.

  “Soph, I know I fucked up,” I say, staring at the clothes, baby wipes and whatever else is lining the storage boxes. “I’ve wanted to talk about us for so long. But I just didn’t know how…or where to start.”

  I see her nod out of my peripheral.

  “I’m sorry I’ve not been here for you in the way I should have been.”

  She turns to me, and my body automatically mirrors hers. I scan her up and down, noticing how snug the t-shirt is over her bump. I can’t resist reaching out to touch her stomach; she covers the top of my hand with her palm, linking our fingers. Her skin is so soft and warm, her touch so familiar.

  “But you have, Charlie. You’ve come to all the appointments, the pre-natal classes.”

  I shake my head. “No, Soph. I don’t want to just be there for the baby. I want to be there for you, too.”

  She smiles. “But you have in every other way which counts. When you know I’m going to be at Nate and Flick’s for Sunday lunch, you always bring me something. When I was near on hyperventilating when they showed us the film on an actual birth, yo
u calmed me down.”

  I grimace; yeah that film scared the fuck out of me, too, but I tried to keep my shit together for her.

  “Because I want to be wherever you are, Sophie.” I bring my hand up to cup her cheek. “I want to be with you.”

  Her breathing hitches, her eyes gloss over as she stares at my chest. “So, there isn’t anyone else?” she asks cautiously.

  I let out a short laugh. “No, I haven’t been with anyone since you.”

  She peers up at me. “You haven’t?”

  I tuck the loose tendrils of curls behind her ear. “No, of course not. You’re irreplaceable.”

  Her cheeks flush and she rests her palm on my chest.

  “And what about you? Are you interested in anyone else?” I figure we might as well lay all our cards on the table.

  She shakes her head, no.

  “Not even Olly?”

  She scrunches up her nose. “What? Ewe, not at all. Why would you ask that?”

  She rubs her hand across my torso.

  “I don’t know, he doesn’t exactly keep it quiet about how regular he visits your cafe. He likes to rub it in my face when he’s had the pleasure of seeing you,” I say, stroking my thumb over her cheek.

  Blinking up at me, she smiles and slides her hands around the back of my waist.

  “It’s not me he comes to see,” she replies leaning in, but her stomach stops her before she can get any closer. “He comes to aggravate Rachel. All they do is bicker, but they clearly have a thing for each other.”

  I raise an eyebrow. “Huh, so Nate was right?”

  “There’s a first for everything,” she giggles.