“What can I say? We’re fast friends. Who knows, she probably likes me more than you now,” I tease.
“I wouldn’t put it past her. It’s not that hard to see your charm, Lottie.”
“Me?” I scoff. “I’ve got about as much charm as a stale slice of bread, Owen. I’m overly blunt, sometimes rude, and the mouth I have on me would make a sailor blush.”
He pauses, looking at me, his features morphing into a soft smile. “Maybe you see it that way, but to others it’s different.”
“Uh-huh, and how is that?”
“You’re not blunt but honest, you speak out against injustice, and you’re not afraid to use your colorful vocab.” He sits back on the couch, clearly satisfied with himself. I know he’s keeping it light, but it’s hard to ignore how my heart clenches at his words. Maybe it’s all these pregnancy hormones, but his words manage to hit the chilly frost that covered my heart all those months ago. Now that I think about it, he’s been melting that for some time.
“Well,” I say, letting out a breath, “that’s one of the nicest fucking things I’ve heard in a while.”
“I wasn’t trying to be nice, just truthful.”
I shove his side. “Stop it!”
His eyes scrunch together. “What?”
“Stop being nice!”
He laughs. “I’m just saying it how it is, Lottie.”
I grab a pillow from beneath me and toss it at him.
“Are you crying?” Suddenly he’s serious.
“No!” I shout, getting off the couch, trying to hide the emotion from his kind words.
“Lottie!” He’s half laughing, but I hear concern.
“It’s all these hormones.” I wave my hands in front of myself and my small rounded belly. I can only wear tight clothes in the house because I don’t want anyone finding out.
Owen gets off the couch and comes over to me. He invades my space, but I let him, knowing I’d probably let him do a whole lot more if I weren’t up the duff.
Ever so softly, he grabs my arm and pulls me into him. His hand comes up to cup my face, and it takes everything inside of me to keep breathing.
“I didn’t mean to make you cry. But it’s important you don’t pick apart aspects of yourself you don’t like. You’re a strong, badass woman, and pregnancy doesn’t change that.” He looks into my eyes, his own a swirling hurricane. “Badass women also cry,” he adds before catching one of my tears with his thumb.
“I know,” I confirm. “I guess I’m just not used to someone hyping me up all the time.”
He grins. “I can hype you up every day if needed.”
I laugh, burying my face in his warm, hard chest. His arms link around my waist, our fronts aligned. Although Owen and I are close, this type of hug doesn’t really happen. Correction, it never happens. This spells out intimacy, not friendship. Yet I can’t seem to pull away despite a million warning bells going off in my mind.
We stand here for a few more minutes, Owen’s hands rubbing up and down my back, my mind knowing it would only take a small movement for my head to tilt up and our lips to meet. When that thought crosses my mind, I quickly pull myself out of his grasp.
“Better?” he asks, his gaze lingering on me for a moment too long. “So, about Christmas?”
I smile up at him. “I wouldn’t miss it.”
Grinning, he leads me over to the couch, where we watch some Vince Vaughn movie. On opposite ends of the couch, all my doing. I couldn’t tell you what we watched specifically or what it was even about, my mind running with tonight’s events.
Owen and I nearly crossed a line tonight, yet fear of losing him, losing this stops me from acknowledging it aloud. What’s the saying? Ignorance is bliss. For once I’m fine being a happy pig rather than an unhappy Socrates.
The rest of November and most of December flies by, with work busier than usual and my belly growing by the day. Before I know it, Owen and I are driving to Evie’s for Christmas, with Ali, Em, and Stana all in Edinburgh for the holidays.
After accepting Evie and Owen’s invitation, I didn’t have one ounce of regret. I knew going to Edinburgh would have been a huge mistake, and I’m glad I trusted my gut.
Things with Owen have been the same since that night in his apartment, both of us going back to our normal behavior, but is it really that normal? With my due date only three months away, I can’t help but overthink every little thing between us. How he’s basically given up any chance at a relationship and social life, dedicating all his time to me.
I know I need to set better boundaries, not just for Owen’s sake, but for my own too. He won’t always be here and it’s not healthy for me to depend on him for everything. Once the baby arrives at the end of March, it will just be the two of us, and I need to start preparing for that.
But that’s an issue for me to tackle in the new year. Selfishly, I just want to enjoy our time together now and keep the peace.
“So, have you spoken to your parents?” Owen asks, his voice cutting through the music. I know what he’s really asking—when am I going to tell them about the baby? But he won’t outright say it for fear of overstepping.
“Actually, I have,” I reply. “I spoke to Mum this morning. She’s happy I’ve got someone to spend Christmas with, especially after I declined Stana’s invitation. I know she wanted me to spend it with them in France, but for obvious reasons…” I motion to my growing stomach, despite Owen’s eyes being on the road. “And I’ve made a decision about telling them. Well, telling everyone really.”
“And that is?” he asks.
“In the new year. I refuse to monopolize everyone’s Christmas and the devil knows if I told Stana before her trip to Edinburgh, she’d track down Beck and give him the beating he deserves.”
“Stana as the violent type?” Owen laughs, clearly having a hard time imagining it.
“Well, maybe not violent, but I’m sure she’d give him a good verbal serve.” We both laugh, my mind imagining kind Stana giving someone an ass beating. Definitely more my scene. Well, maybe not now.
“I think telling everyone is a great idea, Lottie. You know I’m here for you every step of the way.”
“Thanks, puppy. I really don’t know how I would have done any of this without you. I know I don’t always say it enough, but thank you.”
I risk looking at him; a small smile is tracing over his lips.
I turn back in my seat, facing forward, the expensive leather beneath me squeaking as I go. Then I reach for the radio and turn up the volume, not minding what’s on. I’m not really picky when it comes to music as long as it’s not country. If someone puts that shit on, I’m out.
“Fancy” by Iggy Azalea comes on, my hand tapping on my leg to the opening beat. I stare out the window as Iggy starts singing and nearly drop dead when I hear another voice singing along to the opening rap.
I turn, my eyes not believing themselves as Owen, all wrapped up in the song, sings about being a bad bitch, and I nearly lose it.
His shoulders move up and down to the beat, him not missing a single word of the rap. He’s so into it I don’t think he notices me staring, mouth on the floor.
“I’m sorry, what is going on?” I can’t stop laughing, tears forming behind my eyes from it all. Owen keeps going, finally turning to me when the chorus starts. I assume he’ll be embarrassed at getting lost in the song, but he just grins.
“Oh, come on. Tell me this song isn’t catchy,” he says, his body still moving around. He reaches for the volume and turns it up to max as he continues on.
“I’m so fancy!” Owen yells, to which I join in, no longer wanting to be out of the fun. We both piss ourselves laughing, but he doesn’t lose a single note in the chorus.
Owen turns to me, face serious when the second verse comes on, my body shaking with giggles as he goes off again.
He sings and I join in, surprised I still know all the words. We pull up to a red light, both of us probably looking like loons as we
have a rap-off.
I start moving my shoulders to the right then left, and Owen catches on quickly, our dance moves now in sync.
“It’s just the way you like it, huh?” he sings to me and I tap out, no longer able to participate as I’ve died from all of this.
The song finishes up while I’m still in tears, and Owen is looking like the cat who got the cream.
“I have no words,” I tell him, wiping my eyes.
“Who doesn’t love a good sing-along?” he replies.
“What would Ali and Reeve think of your taste in music?” I tease.
He shrugs. “I’d probably be kicked out of the band, so let’s keep this between us two.”
“Your secret is safe with me.”
A Destiny’s Child song comes on and off he goes again, giving me the best ride of my life. Car ride, that is.
After arriving at Evie’s, we settle in quickly, with champagne and nibbles all coming our way. I obviously decline the former, feeling slightly guilty at the fact I have yet to tell Evie. It’s a weird feeling considering my own mother doesn’t know about my pregnancy, but one that tells me all I need to know about Evie. She’s comfort; she’s safety.
An hour into the day, we’re sitting in the living room, which is filled with two differently patterned couches and knickknacks littering the walls and side tables. It’s not that it’s messy—Evie would never keep that kind of household. It’s just oozing with character and, well, Evie.
“I can’t believe your brother is late,” Evie says, her face cross.
“What do you expect, Mum?” Owen replies from next to me. “He’s nineteen.”
She shakes her head, shoving anther puff pastry thing into her mouth. I don’t actually know what they are, but they’re delicious.
“He’ll get here, darling,” Steve coos as he comes to sit by her side, topping up her champagne. Smart man.
As if Hugo’s ears were burning, we hear the front door open, and a little replica of Owen walks inside. Hugo is tall and trim but not scrawny, having a mop of golden-blond hair on his head and dark blue eyes like his brother.
But where Owen has the maturity of his twenties and defined angles to his face and arms, Hugo still has that air of youth that hasn’t fully gone away. I have no doubt he has success with the ladies, the smile he gives his mum charming.
“You didn’t tell me your brother was a mini version of you,” I whisper to Owen, grinning.
He gently shoves my side. “I’m more attractive. Remember that.”
I roll my eyes before standing up, ready to meet Hugo. I make sure to pull my jumper down, thankful for its heavy knit.
“You must be the famous Lottie I’ve been hearing so much about,” Hugo says as soon as he stops before me. He gives me a massive smile. Yep, definitely Owen’s brother.
“Only bad things, I hope,” I joke as I cross the room to meet him. He goes in for a bear hug, my mind only catching up as his arms circle my waist. I internally panic before he pulls away and says hi to Owen. Thank God for nineteen-year-old boys. He probably just thinks I’ve eaten too much over the holidays.
“Sorry I’m late. I missed the earlier Tube and couldn’t get back in time.” Hugo studies at Oxford, so he isn’t around as much as Evie would like, but he’s definitely here more than Reeve’s brother, who studies in America.
“You get a pass just this once because it’s Christmas,” Steve says, winking over Evie’s shoulder at Hugo. Despite Owen and Hugo having different fathers, neither of which were Steve, the four of them are a family. That only further proves to me there is no special formula to creating the perfect family. It gives me a little bit of reassurance that I and this baby are going to be okay without her having a stable dad in her life.
“Okay, should we do presents then?” Evie clasps her hands together, joy radiating from her as she looks upon everyone in the room. Despite me not being a member of this family, she really has a way of making me feel welcome.
“Can I go first?” I ask the room, grabbing the bag I snuck in with me.
“You know you didn’t have to get us anything,” Owen says in a low voice from next to me. I shush him by handing him his first, then giving Steve, Hugo, and Evie theirs. I don’t have many artistic skills in life, but wrapping presents is one of them. Each is in shiny red wrapping with gold ribbon that has holly attached to the top. I’m quite proud of it if I say so myself.
“Darling girl, you’re far too thoughtful,” Evie says as she unwraps her gift.
“It’s nothing,” I tell them, secretly hoping they like it. I don’t really know Steve or Hugo well, so I went with a nice bottle of wine for Steve and a gift certificate for Hugo.
“Lottie, this is far too generous,” Steve tells me as he unwraps the bottle of Pinot.
I smile at him. “It’s one of my parents’ favorites.”
He pulls out his glasses and places them on the tip of his nose. “An excellent vintage,” he confirms.
“I’m glad you like it.”
“Brilliant, Lottie,” Hugo says, standing up and coming over to hug me. “Thanks.”
“It’s just something small to say thank you all for having me.”
Evie is across the room, holding the teacups I found at a vintage store in Notting Hill the other week.
“Oh, Lottie,” she whispers, tears in her eyes. “This means so much.”
“I noticed you had the teapot and when I saw the cups that matched, I had to get them for you. I mean, what are the chances?”
She smiles at me, and it’s filled with warmth and love. “It was fate.”
I nod, suddenly feeling a bit emotional myself.
Trying to brush it off, I turn to Owen, hoping he likes his gift. But to my surprise, he’s yet to open it. His eyes are already locked onto me, gaze probing as though it’s reaching into my soul. It’s intense, uncomfortable, and all too wanted at the same time, so I look away. I point to his gift. “Open it.”
Nodding, he begins to pull off the ribbon. I glance around the room, seeing Evie and Steve in conversation with Hugo, Evie’s gaze briefly finding my own before returning to her son. A small grin settles on her lips.
“Jesus, Lottie.” Owen’s hushed voice pulls me back to the present. He can’t seem to look away from the signed movie script for the first Lord of the Rings film. It took pulling a few strings and calling some people my parents know, but I finally got my hands on it last week, just in time for the holiday.
“Are you for real?” he asks, his face still in awe. Suddenly unsure how to process all this, I bite my cheek, an awkward smile overtaking my face. Was this gift too much? Should I have just gone with a gift card? Fuck, shit, fuck.
“It’s really not a big deal,” I insist.
“Lottie, you got me a signed script of my favorite film of all time. Not to mention literally every bloody name is on this. It’s a huge deal.”
I begin picking at the end of my fraying jumper, wrapping the loose thread around my finger until almost painfully tight.
“Hey.” His hand touches mine and I return my stare to him. “This means a lot to me, thank you.” He runs his thumb up and down my hand before pulling it away.
“Well, you’re welcome,” I manage to get out, feeling a bit stupid for my dramatics over the gifts. Friends get each other nice things; this isn’t out of the ordinary or weird. Yep, totally normal to spend a hundred pounds on your friends’ mother.
Oh God.
“Well, Lottie, I think I can speak for the entire family when I say you’re far too generous but with gifts like this, definitely welcome anytime,” Hugo says to me. Evie reaches over and smacks his arm.
“You’re welcome anytime, with or without presents,” she cuts in.
I can’t help but laugh, thankful no one except me is reading into this.
“Now it’s my turn,” Evie says. She gets up and begins to distribute everyone’s presents.
“I sort of have to give you your gift in private,” Owen whispers
to me while Evie’s attention is on Hugo. The warmth of his breath sends goose bumps sprouting across my arms.
“Sorry, what?” I say, eyes wide in alarm as I look to him.
“Oh God, not like that, Lottie,” he responds, face blooming with red.
Ah yes, because who would want to do dirty things with the pregnant girl?
And that’s how my fucked-up mind takes his response. Instead of thinking, Fuck, he’s my friend, I’m offended he doesn’t want to. I need to get my head screwed on.
“It’s just something to do with—” His head motions toward my stomach and I instantly understand.
“Oh yeah, no problem,” I say quickly as Evie is at my feet, handing me a pink box with ribbon.
“Evie, I’m your guest. You’re not supposed to get me anything,” I tell her.
She shushes me before giving Owen a small bundle of things.
I avert my attention to the gift at hand, opening up the wrapping to unveil a stunning pale pink jumper and an assortment of bracelets. It’s all very different, all very me. I run my hands over the soft material of the jumper, instantly knowing it’s cashmere. Christ, that isn’t cheap. Now I’m thankful I didn’t go for a box of chocolates for their gifts.
“Evie, this is so beautiful,” I tell her, already knowing what boots and skirt I will pair it with.
“Oh good, I’m so glad you like it. I know clothing is always a gamble when it’s for other people, but as soon as I saw it, I knew you’d look amazing in it.”
“It’s perfect,” I reply, wishing I could try it on right now. But alas, that would give away my nearly six-month belly.
Everyone continues to open their gifts, Owen and Hugo bantering back and forth while Steve inspects each gift, always deeming it perfect.
An hour later we’re at the table, feasting on roasted turkey, potatoes, stuffing, peas, and heaps more things I don’t think I’ll even make it to trying.
The dinner is filled with conversation, laughter, and a fair bit of teasing one another. It’s as if I’ve been a part of their family my entire life, all of them making a conscious effort to keep me engaged without it feeling forced. It’s special, and to be honest, one of the best Christmases I’ve had in a long time.
Late Love Page 9