Late Love

by Scarlett Hopper

  “Oh God.” I laugh. “I just worry I’m putting too much on him too quickly. Like he’s not Rosie’s dad and I would never want him to be giving up everything he loves just to take care of us.” Ugh. I shake my head. “I’m getting ahead of myself. This is still so new.”

  Stan’s hand comes to rest upon my own. “We know Owen, and we know he would never commit to something he wasn’t ready for. My advice, don’t overthink it. Keep doing what works for the two of you. It’s no one else’s place to judge that.”

  I smile, knowing she is right. In this moment what Owen and I have works, and if that ever starts to change, well, we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.

  “God, you should have seen him the other day. He came over here telling me all about this amazing girl he was into, going on and on about her, and despite the fact that I pushed him to be dating, I nearly broke right there!” I shake my head at the memory. “I swear he is going to be the death of me.”

  “I’ve got to admit,” Stana says, “it was kind of brilliant. I mean, would you have given him a shot if he hadn’t gone on and on about this girl?”

  I bite my cheek. “Honestly? I don’t know. It’s Owen—he’s easy on the eyes, in a band, and successful. I doubt it would be hard for him to find someone. So who knows, but I won’t say I’m mad he gave me the little push.”

  Em grins. “I just love it, the two of you together. I mean, what friend group has the entire group paired off with one another?”

  “Uh, like every cheesy teen romance movie or TV show?” I offer, knowing that our situation is not the norm.

  “Whatever.” Em waves her hand, dismissing me. “Anyway, I think it’s romantic.”

  “Me too,” Stana gushes.

  “You two.” I playfully roll my eyes but don’t hide my smile, knowing deep down I feel the same way.

  Despite a peaceful four months since Rosie’s birth, I knew there was bound to be a bad day in our future. I just didn’t realize it would be today. She’s absolutely hysterical for no reason, red faced and angry. I’m near tears when Owen buzzes on my door after the day we’ve had.

  I pat Rosie on her back as I walk to the door, hopeful it will get her to stop crying. She’s been fed and had a fresh nappy, so I have no idea why she won’t settle.

  “Jesus, Lottie, are you okay?” He eyes me, then Rosie.

  “I can’t get her to stop crying.” I hiccup as he reaches forward and takes her out of my arms. She still cries but begins to calm down.

  “What the hell?” I say. “I’ve been doing exactly what you’re doing for over an hour.” I wipe my sleeve across my snotty nose, recoiling at the thought of how I must look right now.

  “Babe,” Owen says, placing his free hand on my shoulder, “why don’t you go take a shower? I’ll do my best to soothe her.”

  “But what if she needs me?” I ask, worried about even leaving the room.

  “I promise if she needs you, I will bring her in right away, okay?”

  I nod, my chest still shakily moving up and down.

  “Is someone giving their mum a hard time?” I hear Owen whisper to Rosie as I walk into the bathroom. I can’t help but laugh at his baby voice toward her. She has him wrapped around her little finger.

  I don’t waste any time throwing off my stained clothes and getting under the spray of the hot water, relishing in every single moment. Yet, not wanting to leave them alone for too long, I quickly wash my hair and hop out. The cold bathroom tiles jolt me back as I wrap the towel around myself to dry off before dressing.

  “Sorry that took so long,” I say as I exit the bathroom, rubbing the towel through my locks. I quickly look around the room, finding Owen making tea in the kitchen, Rosie nowhere to be seen.

  “Where is she?” I asked, my voice slightly panicked.

  Owen walks over with a steaming hot cup of tea and takes my hand with his free one.

  “She’s asleep. I promise she’s okay.”

  “She slept for you?” I can’t keep the shock out of my voice. I’m her mum and I tried for hours, and she went down for him within minutes?

  “Lottie, I can guarantee it wasn’t me. She was so exhausted, I think she honestly didn’t have a choice.”

  I look around the room, still not believing she’s asleep.

  “But why didn’t she sleep for me?” My lip can’t help but wobble at the question.

  Owen’s eyes soften when I snuggle into his side. “Because you’re her mum and she probably wanted to stay up with you. She loves you the most in this world, you know that.”

  I sniffle a few times, knowing he’s just being nice. I probably smelled and Rosie could sense my own hysterics coming on.

  “Do you want something to eat?” he asks.

  Shaking my head, I cuddle into the couch.

  “Why don’t I turn on a show and we can just relax? I’ll keep an eye out for Rosie, okay?”

  I nod, feeling my eyes already closing as I lean into him. Next thing I know, it’s lights out.

  I wake up with a jolt, my body jumping off the couch, the apartment now dark. That tells me I’ve been asleep for some time. Owen is no longer on the couch, but a pillow is under my head, along with a blanket on top of me.

  I doubt he would leave without telling me, so I walk out of the living room and push open the slightly ajar door to my bedroom.

  The sight before me nearly brings me to tears. Owen is asleep in the rocking chair, Rosie protectively held against his shoulder as she too is out like a light. An empty bottle sits next to him, my mind thankful I don’t need to go over her feeding schedule with him. Owen being Owen, I said it once and he didn’t forget.

  As if sensing my presence, Owen stirs, his eyes opening while a sleepy smile lines his lips. “Hey,” he whispers, voice husky.

  “Hi,” I mouth, unable to move from the spot I’m in. It’s these small moments when I see him with her that I wish it. I wish he were hers. And that brings me back to the fact she has a dad, one who refuses to be here. The thought alone crushes me, because how could any father not want this beautiful girl? How could anyone abandon her?

  I motion my head toward the bed, somewhere Owen and I have yet to share. But it’s late, and there is no way I’m making him leave now. He seems to understand, slowly standing with Rosie in his arms. I hold my breath while he places her back into her cot, still sound asleep.

  I don’t hesitate to get under the covers and extend my hand to him. He looks at me for a moment, seeming to ask if I’m sure, but I quickly nod. So he removes his shoes and jacket, then climbs in with me as quietly as possible.

  We turn to one another, my hand reaching up to trace his handsome face before he takes it in his own and kisses my knuckles. And that’s how we both fall asleep. Embracing one another, me feeling a comfort I have never felt in this life before. Safe, happy, and warm. With Owen.

  After that first night that Owen stays over, it’s rare that he goes back to his house to sleep. He doesn’t care when Rosie screams three times a night for milk or a nappy change. He still occasionally tries to get up, but I draw the line there. Rosie is my responsibility, especially during the night, and it feels like accepting too much to let him.

  So, as the days continue on, Rosie keeps getting bigger and bolder. Life is still as crazy as ever, my flat feeling smaller by the day, the mess always piling up, but I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

  She is everything I didn’t know I wanted or needed. My little girl.

  “So, I hate to ask, but I’m going to,” my mum says through the line as I check the baby monitor. Rosie’s been sleeping for the past hour, and I’m hoping I get another hour out of her before she wakes so I can get some laundry done.

  “What is it, Mum?” I ask, not having the time to beat around the bush.

  “Have you heard from Beck?”

  Annoyance prickles my skin at the mention of his name. But my heart doesn’t drop, and I don’t want to sink into the couch, so I take that as a good thing. I
’m long past my heartbreak from him, it now having been over a year since I sold his shit and hightailed it out of Edinburgh.

  “No, Mum,” I respond. “He didn’t reply when I told him about her birth, and that was the final nail in the coffin. I refuse to waste any more time on that asshole.”

  “Good,” she says, making me laugh. “He’s a right tosser and doesn’t deserve to know your beautiful baby girl.”

  I grin, despite her not being able to see it, and go to grab some of Rosie’s baby singlets. They fold in one turn, and I manage to move through them quickly, wanting to have the house looking semi-decent before Owen gets here later.

  Mum and I talk for a little longer before the baby monitor goes off and I have to say my goodbyes. I throw the rest of the clothes back into the basket, where they will probably stay for the next week, and hurry to my room.

  What I’m not prepared for is the smell that wreaks havoc on my senses when I open the door. I nearly gag as I turn on the light and go toward Rosie, already knowing the carnage I’m about to find.

  Looking down, I see my giggly little girl, her big blue eyes shining up at me as she sucks on her fingers. Yet that isn’t what gives me pause. It’s the big brown stain seeping out of her nappy.

  Every mum I spoke to told me this day would come. They called it a poonami because it is a literal wave of shit. I didn’t get it then, but I sure as hell do now.

  “You’re pretty pleased with yourself, aren’t you?” I ask as I stare down at her, her small face looking up at me.

  “You’re really making Mummy work for it today, aren’t you?”

  Reaching over, I hold my breath, knowing I’m going to have to change her bottom sheet and probably clean the mattress. Gross.

  She continues to smile, not a care in the world as I attempt to get her outfit off before tossing it into a pile across the room. Putting on the nappy and wiping the mess without her wriggling is the hard part.

  She continues to think everything is hilarious, and despite literally being covered in shit, I can’t help it. I smile.

  After a fresh nappy and a long walk through Hyde Park, Rosie and I are exhausted, anxiously awaiting Owen to get home. To say she’s infatuated with him would be an understatement; she’s obsessed.

  At six p.m. sharp the front door buzzes, Rosie’s eyes widening at the sound. I make sure she is secure in her little seat and go open it. Owen’s handsome face is focused on his phone as I pull the door open. He doesn’t hesitate to put it away and pull me into his arms.

  Our lips connect all too briefly before Rosie begins cooing, Owen’s face lighting up at the sound.

  “Someone has been waiting for you,” I tell him.

  “Have you been waiting for me?” he asks in a soft voice as he beelines to the kitchen, always washing his hands.

  Rosie reaches out her small grabby hand, practically begging for Owen to pick her up. He carefully undoes her straps then pulls her out, immediately kissing her head.

  “You should have seen the mess she did in her crib earlier,” I say as I hand him a beer. He takes it and I throw myself down on the couch.

  He sits on the floor, his back against the couch so he can lean Rosie against his bent legs, facing him.

  He laughs. “Oh God, was it traumatic?”

  “Yes! It took me nearly an hour to get the smell out. She, on the other hand, thought the entire thing was hilarious. I mean, how does something that small create a mess so big? It’s not like she eats anything other than breast milk and formula!”

  “Wait till she starts solids in a next month.”

  I cringe at the thought.

  “Did you make a mess for Mummy today?” he asks her, pinching her chubby little cheeks.

  “It’s okay, Rosie. Mummy forgives you.”

  She beams, looking at Owen as he plays with her, the two of them like a little duo.

  “So, I spoke to Evie today. She wants everyone over for Sunday dinner this weekend.”

  Owen laughs. “I feel like you and Mum speak more than she and I do.”

  I casually lift a shoulder. “What can I say? We’re basically best friends.”

  “Oh, trust me, I know.”

  He turns, facing those deep ocean blue eyes at me. I poke my tongue out before rolling off the couch to sit next to him with Rosie. I have to shove all her toys and stuff out of the way as I go.

  “Ugh, this flat never felt small before, but now it feels like I can’t do anything without stepping on toys or my leg smashing into the side of a table. Plus Rosie’s nearly four months, and all the books say she should be sleeping alone at six months. Where am I supposed to put her? The closet?” It’s a joke, but Jesus Lord, where else can she go?

  Owen’s eyebrows draw together. “So are you thinking about moving?”

  “I don’t know. I mean, I really should have given it more thought before she was born. What was I thinking—she and I would share a room forever?”

  He places his free hand over mine. “If you want to move, I can help you look into that.”

  I nod. “It’s just, this place has been home for so long. It was Mum and Dad’s and then it became mine. I would literally have to sell it to even entertain moving, and it’s been home for so long.”

  Rosie starts to coo, getting back our attention. “So, what, you don’t want to sell? This is a great space. I’m sure you wouldn’t have a hard time.”

  “I’ve been approached a few times to sell, but it just never felt right, and now having Rosie, I don’t know if being directly in London is the right choice for us in the long term. I mean, right now it’s fine, but when she’s five and wants to run around, I want her to have a home.”

  “What about leasing then? If you’re not ready to sell this place, why not lease it out and you can find another place with Rosie, something bigger?”

  I nod. “That’s a good point. I don’t know why I didn’t think of that.”

  “You’ve still got time, Lottie. Rosie isn’t turning six months for another two months.”

  “Oh God, even the thought of decluttering all this shit gives me anxiety.” I turn to Owen, face serious. “It may surprise you, Owen Bower, but I have a lot of junk.”

  He bursts out laughing. “I’d never know,” he says, sarcasm dripping from every word. I playfully roll my eyes before turning back to my little girl, who is now fast asleep in his arms.

  “Looks like someone was tired,” he says, motioning to her.

  “That makes two of us.”

  “Good thing I ordered Chinese food on the way over. It should be here in twenty, which means you can be in bed by seven thirty.”

  I want to cry with joy. “You are a godsend!”

  He just winks before standing up and taking Rosie into my bedroom. I silently follow him in and watch as he puts her into her baby sleeping bag with perfect care, not once stirring her from her sleep.

  After he exits the bedroom, he pulls me into his arms.

  “How about a proper hello?” I ask.

  “Who could say no to that?” He grins before ducking his head and connecting his lips with my own. My hands go straight to his hair and pull him closer.

  His tongue explores my mouth as I open for him, my teeth nipping at his lips. We stand there, getting overexcited for a few minutes before the buzzer goes off and Owen has to pull away.

  “I’ll get it,” I tell him, trying to hide my laugh as I walk to the door.

  Now that’s how you say hello.

  “I can’t believe how much she’s growing up!” Evie smooshes the sides of Rosie’s cheeks, my little girl turning everyone around her into mush.

  “I know, right? It seems like only yesterday I was pregnant.”

  Evie pulls out another new toy she’s bought Rosie and shows it to her, her chubby fingers trying to grab the toy giraffe.

  “I feel like I never see her enough. I really do need to reinstate this Sunday dinner to every Sunday.”

  “I wouldn’t complain about that
,” I joke, the smell of roasted potatoes and chicken filling the air. I got here early so Evie could have some one-on-one time with Rosie; I know once the other two girls get here, all bets are off.

  “God, I can’t imagine how much your mum must miss her. We were speaking the other day, and I’m thinking of taking a little time off and visiting them in a few months.”

  I can’t help but smile. “Mum would absolutely die if you came to visit her. I think she can get lonely at times in France; that’s probably why she travels so much.”

  Before we can continue, the doorbell rings, signaling the first round of humans. Stana and Ali enter, and as predicted, Stana goes straight to Rosie and picks her up off the mat. Her frilly pink dress is bunched up around her thighs, but Stana is quick to fix it.

  “I’ve missed you, Rosie,” Stana says in a baby voice, rubbing her nose against Rosie’s.

  “What am I, chopped liver?” I tease, knowing I would have skipped over anyone for Rosie any day too.

  “Sorry,” she replies, but her attention is still on the baby.

  “Hey, Lottie,” Ali says, leaning in for a hug.

  “Ali, how’s it going? Still keeping Saint Street running like a well-oiled machine?”

  He chuckles. “Doing the best I can. Looking forward to the gig tonight.”

  I beam, excited to finally have a night out of the house. Evie is going to look after Rosie for a few hours so I can go watch Owen and the band perform. Lord know it feels like years since I’ve gone anywhere that doesn’t involve a trip to the store to buy nappies or formula.

  “Stana mentioned you’re gonna come?” he asks.

  I nod. “First night of freedom and I’m spending it watching you guys. You better not disappoint,” I tease.

  “We’ll do our best.” At that the door rings, and Owen barrels through with Em and Reeve behind him.

  “Hey, you,” Owen says, pulling me into his arms. I give him a brief kiss, not one for PDA, especially in front of his mum.

  “Hey,” I say as I pull away from him.

  “You excited for tonight?” he asks and I nod, not able to contain my excitement.