Late Love

by Scarlett Hopper

  “Huh?” His cluelessness only further infuriates me. On impulse I swing my bag at him again, but this time he grabs it out of my hands.

  “Why didn’t you call us? Some nurse said you were in a crash, and you were dead for all we knew! What the fuck!” I can’t stop yelling. I’ve finally stopped crying, replacing it with chastising Owen for scaring the shit out of me. The pure panic I felt moments ago still lingers inside me.

  “Fuck,” Owen says, his face falling. He reaches for me, and I initially draw back before finally going to his side.

  “I left my phone in his car and Reeve’s died. I asked the nurse to call you guys for me while we were being checked out. I really thought she would have mentioned we were okay. Reeve’s car is fucked up, but we don’t have any serious injuries.”

  I stay silent, wanting to hear the full story, needing to.

  “We got T-boned by some prick who ran a red light. It all happened so quickly. I smacked my head on the dash and the car’s pretty fucked, but besides that everyone’s okay.”

  I nod, unable to take my eyes off him for fear he will disappear before me.

  “I promise, we’re okay. I’m fucking sorry for scaring you like that.” He looks me right in the eyes, but I can’t seem to process it all, especially when Em and Reeve are having a moment of their own.

  Owen motions his head toward the door, and I nod, both of us slipping out to give Em, who has been quiet the entire time, some space with Reeve. My money is on a reconciliation by the end of the hour.

  Owen stays silent as we walk down the sterilized halls, my hand coming to rest upon my protruding stomach. In less than two months I’ll be back here to have my little girl. The thought is sobering.

  “Lottie,” Owen says, but I shake my head, not wanting to lose it in these halls again.

  “Are you okay to go home? Do you need to be discharged?” I ask, attempting to keep my voice even.

  “The nurse came in before you arrived. We can leave.”

  I nod, walking toward the exit, making sure to keep a slow pace for him to follow. Once outside I get us a cab and tell the driver my address, Owen staying silent next to me. The drive isn’t quick, but it feels brief, my mind racing over everything swirling inside of me.

  I pay before Owen has a chance to, trying to have a quick exit, but my body isn’t able to pop in and out like I used to. Taking our time, we get into my flat, some sort of switch flipping inside of me as soon as I know he’s safe, we’re both safe and here.

  I bypass my couch, all my shit littered everywhere as I stand facing a wall, attempting to control myself.

  “Lottie.” His voice is soft as he says my name, pleading almost. I know my reaction is scaring him, but how do I even begin to express how much he scared me? How the mere thought of not having him in my life brought me to my knees. How his presence has revived me in my darkest hour.

  Taking a deep breath, I turn to face him on the other side of the room. His eyes are like a torrid storm of blue and gray, practically pleading for me to say something.

  “You scared me,” I admit like a wounded child. “You scared me more than I’ve ever been scared in my entire life.”

  He shuts his eyes before opening them and taking a step forward. I put up a shaky hand, silencing anything he has to say. His mouth closes, as though he knows I need to let this out. It’s time I’m finally fully honest, not hiding behind fear and regret.

  “No, Owen, you don’t get it,” I whisper, surprised he can still hear me. “It scared me because you mean everything to me.”

  He inhales quickly, appearing to have an internal battle with himself before he clearly says “fuck it” and rushes toward me. I accept it this time, meeting him halfway as his strong arms lock around me, careful to be mindful of the baby. I inhale his scent, needing that extra reminder that he’s still here, that he’s okay.

  “You mean everything to me too, Lottie. You both do. That’s why I asked the nurse to call you, not Mum. Even though I knew everything was okay, you were the only one I wanted to see. I just wish they’d given you more information. I’d never want you to worry like that.”

  His breath is warm against my shoulder, comfort overtaking me as I nuzzle closer to him. We stand like this for a few minutes, both seemingly needing the closeness of one another. Owen finally pulls back, looking down at me.

  It’s that moment where I know I need to pull away, so reluctantly I do, a forced smile coming down like a mask.

  We spend the rest of the night on opposite ends of the couch watching a movie, pretending that we don’t want each other as much as we do.

  A week later, I’m sitting in my favorite cake shop with Reeve and Owen, faking I don’t know Stana and Em are setting up for a baby shower at my place.

  “How long do I have to pretend to be getting my nails done?” I ask after finishing off a cupcake. It seems cravings for pure sugar hit at ten a.m. today. So, what baby wants, baby gets.

  Reeve looks at me and lifts his shoulders.

  “Well, you’re no help,” I tell him before turning to Owen. I could almost swear I catch a small grin on Reeve’s face. Smug little bugger has been back with Emilia for the past week since the accident.

  “Em wants it to be a surprise,” Owen says, handing me my second cupcake of the bag. I scoffed the first one down in a few bites, and now it’s sitting uncomfortably in my chest.

  “I know, but it isn’t. I already know they’re throwing me a baby shower. We might as well sit in the comfort of my home rather than be out.”

  “Give them another thirty minutes?” he pleads. Of course, I concede.

  “Not to be rude or anything, but why is Reeve here and Ali isn’t?” I ask Owen before turning to Reeve. “No offense.”

  “None taken,” he replies, features still showing the same cool indifference he’s mastered so well. To be honest, I don’t even think it’s a façade. I think he just has resting bitch face.

  “He was needed for something.” Owen takes a bite of my cupcake and grins.

  “Hey!” I snap, reaching for it back. I can’t help but smile at him, his emotions contagious. His foot nudges mine under the table. I knock his back.

  “So you two, huh?” Reeve’s voice interrupts us and we both turn to him.

  “What? No, we’re just friends,” I tell him.

  “Yeah,” Owen adds in. I kick him under the table. He bites down on his lips to hide his smile.

  Reeve nods, clearly skeptical. He goes back to looking at his phone, genuinely seeming not to care. I narrow my eyes at Owen before finishing off the rest of the cupcake, smiling triumphantly when he eyes the crumbs with disdain.

  We hang out for another hour before Em texts Reeve that we’re allowed to come back to the flat. We walk up the main road, my bladder about to burst when I finally get inside.

  “Surprise!” Stana and Em yell. I put on my best face of shock, pulling them each in for a hug when I see all the effort they’ve gone to. Thankfully they listened when I said I only wanted it to be our small group.

  Pale pink and white balloons fill my living room, presents littered across the table while enough food to feed an army sits upon my dining room table.

  “Wow,” I say, clearly speechless.

  “Did we go over the top?” Em laughs, but Stana lightly smacks her arm.

  “Of course we didn’t! Lottie’s little girl deserves only the best.” Stana beams, leading me over to the couch. I spot Ali in the corner, smiling. He’s eyeing Stana with awe, clearly proud of his girl.

  “This is all amazing,” I tell them, giving each an extra-tight hug before eyeing the food and mentally deciding how I will eat all of it.

  “Oh, wait, we have to show her the baby’s room!” Stana squeals. My eyebrows draw together. This is a one-bedroom flat, so either the baby has taken over my room or I’ve misheard.

  “What do you mean?”

  Stana grabs my hand and leads me into my bedroom. I cringe when I think of the state it was
in this morning when I left the house. Yet to my utter surprise, once the door is pulled open, it’s unlike anything I’ve seen before. This room has always been big, but I’ve never been one to fully utilize it. I’ve got no time for decorating or folding laundry, so it’s essentially just been one big messy closet for the past few years.

  My bed has been pushed closer to the wall on the far right, perfectly made with my side table still there. But instead of all the dead space on the other side, there is a white cot, with yellow flowers painted on the wall behind it. Instantly I know Em did them. A far-too-familiar rocking chair sits in the corner. It’s the same one my mother had from when I was a child.

  I keep looking around, taking everything in. My old brown dresser has been refurbished, now a shabby-chic white with an assortment of teddies and baby essentials neatly placed atop it, also doubling as a change table. Photographs line the walls, keeping the room balanced between mine and the baby’s.

  “I don’t even know what to say,” I whisper.

  “I take it we didn’t destroy your bedroom for nothing?” Stana looks anxiously at me, and a laugh escapes my mouth at the fact that she could even imagine I might not like it.

  “I love it. It’s everything.”

  She places her hand over mine and gives it a squeeze.

  “I’m guessing this is what you needed Ali’s help for?” I ask.

  “We needed him to help with building everything,” Stana tells me. My gaze finds Ali across the room.

  “Thank you,” I tell him, throat thick.

  Smiling, he nods. “Of course.”

  “How did you find the time to get all of this stuff? I mean, that rocking chair. All this furniture.” I let my eyes scan the room again, trying to convince myself it’s real.

  “Well, we had help,” Em says, motioning with her head toward Owen, who is acting way too casual.

  Turning to him, I laugh. “Of course.”

  His cheeks redden lightly, a small smile tracing his lips. I try to hold back tears, knowing I will thank him later in my own way.

  “Oh, and there is actually one more thing,” Owen says. His lips purse together; he’s clearly trying to hide something.

  “Any more surprises and I think I’m going to faint,” I reply.

  “Well, we wouldn’t want that,” a voice says. I nearly do pass out when my mum buzzes into the room.

  “Oh my God!” Stana yells out, seeing her aunt, my mother.

  “You didn’t think I’d miss today, did you, Lottie?” My mother’s warm face smiles at me as she walks forward and encases me in a hug. I shudder in her arms, not having realized till this moment how much I missed her.

  “It’s okay, my darling girl, don’t cry,” she tells me, running her hand down my hair.

  “I can’t believe you’re here. I mean, how?” I blink away the moisture, trying to pull myself together.

  Her gaze darts to Owen. “Let’s just say a little birdy told me this was not to be missed.” His eyes meet mine across the room as I try to let him know how much this all means to me.

  I lean into her again for a quick hug before pulling away, and Mum goes to greet Stana. After all the hugs and smiles, everyone exits the bedroom to dig into the food, but I stop Owen before he can leave.

  “You did all this for me,” I say to him, voice husky. My feet instinctively draw me closer to him, our toes touching.

  “Of course,” he responds instantly.

  “You have no idea how much this means,” I tell him, my breath warm against his skin. He tightens the hold as much as he can with a baby between us.

  “I’d do it a million times over,” he responds, only making my feelings for him grow even more.

  “What about Evie?” I say suddenly.

  “She’ll be here in twenty minutes, had a client meeting. You think she’d miss this?”

  I smile, happy to know she will be here. Plus, she can finally meet my mum.

  “Imagine those two together.” He laughs as we stroll back into the living room.

  “Darling, you’ve got to try these pastries Stana got for you. They’re simply heavenly.”

  I wave at Owen as Mum pulls me across the room, practically shoving an apricot Danish into my hand, not that I’m complaining.

  That’s how the rest of the day goes—people handing me things I don’t need but definitely want, treating me like an absolute silkworm. It’s a day filled with love and joy, and I couldn’t be more grateful.

  And it’s when my mum tells me she’s staying in London for the next two months, wanting to be here before the baby arrives and for the first few weeks after, that I finally feel at peace. I may not have known it, but I needed her here with me. And it’s even better when she tells me she’s staying at an Airbnb down the street, my soul thankful for the reprieve we will each have from one another when the sun goes down. As much as I love my mother, us Knight women are a lot for anyone to handle. Someone probably should have warned Owen.

  February soon blends into March, the leadup to my delivery creeping closer and closer. I’ve got less than a week left, yet I can’t seem to slow down, wanting to have everything be perfect for her arrival.

  Mum’s been the biggest help imaginable, with Dad having flown in last week to help out too. They’re currently at lunch with their friends while I endeavor to get some last-minute things finished.

  I’m attempting to juggle my plethora of bags and navigate the hustle and bustle of Oxford Street when I hear my name being called. I pull over to the side street, away from all the people, when I see Maureen Johnson, an old uni mate of mine.

  Before Stana and Em, I never really had a big group of close girlfriends. I was more the girl who was friends with everyone, plus Beck took up so much of my time. I don’t regret it; despite what others may think, I’m happy with how everything has worked out.

  “Lottie, I almost didn’t recognize you!” Maureen shouts, her voice fighting for volume over the traffic.

  I take a moment to look her over, it having been over a year since I’ve last seen her. Maureen used to be my go-to person for a night out on the town, but when I moved to Edinburgh last year we lost touch.

  She still looks great, her deep red hair pin-straight and resting on her shoulders with her signature fringe bouncing as she walks to me. She rocks a tight pair of black jeans, a cropped sweater, and high-heeled black boots. How she isn’t freezing her arse off, I don’t know.

  “Maureen,” I finally reply as she halts in front of me. “It’s been forever. How are you?”

  She grins at me while going in for a hug, both of our bags disrupting it. Laughing, we pull back.

  “I’m great! My fashion line I was working on got picked up. Next month you’ll be able to buy the entire collection online, and we’re opening up a boutique in Covent Garden.”

  Covent Garden is prime real estate, so she must be doing well.

  “Wow,” I respond. “That’s incredible! Congratulations.”

  Her lips perk up at the sides. “Right! I couldn’t believe it, honestly, but I guess the universe just had it all worked out for me. But enough of that, what about you? I thought you moved to Edinburgh. Are you back on holidays?”

  I bite my tongue, wanting to tell her I’ve been back far longer than I was actually ever there for, but refraining. Maureen is good people, but she’s also a terrible gossip. And as much as I’m one for a chat, it’s only when I know keeping it in confidence is involved.

  “Yeah, Edinburgh was good, but London is home. I’ve been back for a while now.”

  “I get that. I mean, how could anyone leave London? And Beck, is he back with you? You know, I heard from him the other day saying he was coming to London soon! Can we all hit the town? My job is so stressful I need something to decompress.”

  I can’t ignore the tightening of my fist or the prickling of my skin at the mention of Beck and him reaching out to her. If he wasn’t a piece of shit before, he sure is now.

  “Um, Beck and
I actually split last July,” I tell her, my voice no longer holding the bubbly notes it used to. Instead venom has seeped in.

  Her head turns slightly to the side, her dark lips pursing. “Oh wow, I heard he was still in Edinburgh, but I didn’t know you split.”

  I nod, because I’m not exactly sure what else to say.

  She begins to look around, as if she suddenly feels awkward about bringing him up. I don’t blame her.

  “It’s honestly fine. He just wasn’t a good fit.”

  Now it’s her time to nod before she gives me her attention again, finally seeing my visibly rounded stomach. Despite being nine months pregnant I’m still relatively small, my shopping bags doing some of the work to hide my belly.

  “Oh wow, Lottie, are you pregnant?”

  I try to push out the panic I hear in her words, how she phrases it like an illness. I get it. We’re young, and kids weren’t really in the cards for us yet. I’m probably the least likely out of everyone we know to end up like this.

  “Uh, yeah, I am.” I stand proudly, my hand coming to rest on my stomach despite the shopping bags weighing it down.

  “Holy shit,” she says before catching herself. “Sorry, that was rude. I’m just surprised is all! I mean, I didn’t even think you wanted kids.”

  Me neither.

  “Sorry, who’s the father?”

  It’s a rude question but one I’m asked frequently nonetheless. Just when I’m about to kindly go off on her, I spot Owen exiting the Apple store. Maureen’s gaze follows mine, her eyes darkening.

  “Well, isn’t he a snack,” she says, practically salivating at the sight of him. I retract my claws, not wanting to maul my old friend. Owen and I are in a murky area—we’re not together, but neither of us are seeing other people.

  “Yep, he’s my snack,” I let out. “A whole ten-course meal.” I have no idea why I say it. Well, I kinda do. I feel the need to piss all over him and if I weren’t pregnant, I know I’d do the same thing, maybe even more. What can I say? I’m slightly territorial. It’s bad and I know it—Owen isn’t mine. Hell, I’m pushing him to other women at every chance, but I won’t let her have him. Call me a bitch.