Page 94 of (Not) The One
‘My God. That was amazing!’Outside, the summer evening has cooled, and the sun is setting behind clouds that look like dark, inky smudges pressed over a peach coloured sky. ‘Was that not just the most amazing experience ever! To know is one thing but to witness proof? Well, it’s mind blowing!’
To say James’s response is effusive would be to downplay his reaction as he stares down almost stupefied at the image of my ultrasound in his hand.
‘Yeah. It was. And also a bit surreal.’ I immediately want to bite back my response. Swallow it. Hide it. Make it something a little more like his.
It’s not that I’m unhappy. Before the appointment, I’d known I was pregnant and not just because of the morning sickness. It’s something I’d known intrinsically, almost. And it was something I was slowly coming to terms with, dare I even say something I’d experienced feelings of quiet happiness about? If not exactly singing my excitement from the rooftops, I’d certainly felt very protective of my unconfirmed state, finding myself turning sideways as I passed teenagers on the street and adjusting my seat belt to sit over my non-existent bump, along with other small ridiculous things. Yeah, so I’m notunhappy. Though I find I can also be, at the same time, a little bit sad. And it’s all to do with the thing he’s holding in his hand.
If we were a couple, a real couple, wouldn’t we now be poring over the image together? My copy wouldn’t be in my purse, and he wouldn’t be sliding his into the inside pocket of his jacket for protection. It just feels like a sign of things to come; I’ll be a weekday parent, and he’ll be a weekend one. Together but separate. Together not at all.
‘Come here.’ Immediately, I find myself pulled against James’s broad chest as I inhale a lungful of his heady cologne. ‘You’re not alone.’ My throat constricts as I fight the onset of tears. But I am alone, aren’t I? Even if he’s here right now with me, the lion’s share of this experience will fall to me. ‘This baby will be the most cared for in London,’ he whispers fiercely into my hair. ‘I never for a minute thought this appointment would have such a profound effect. It all feels so real now.’ His hands on my arms, he pushes me away from him to better see my expression as he asks, ‘How doyoufeel? Now that it’s all confirmed?’
‘Pregnant, I suppose. Still.’
His lips quirk in a not-quite smile. ‘You’re not excited?’
‘Yeah.’ I’m not sure if I’m trying to convince him or myself. ‘Really, I am. I think I’m just a bit overwhelmed.’
‘Don’t be. You’re going to be the best mother ever.’ He dips, bringing his gaze level with mine as I press my lips into a line. Because how can he tell? I might be a really terrible mother—the kind that actually does throw the baby out with the bathwater. ‘We’re in this together, you know.’
I swallow an extra large and spikey ball of emotion as I nod when he pulls me into his arms again. God, he’s so good at this stuff—saying the things I need to hear, physically giving me what I need.His broad arms around me. The other distraction of his body.
But maybe that’s wrong. Maybe I need to maintain a dignified kind of distance because I need to remember we aren’t a couple—that we aren’t ever destined to be so. I can rely on him for some things, child-related things, but that’s where our partnering ends. With a fortifying breath, I pull away from the solid comfort of his chest.
‘I’m okay.’ Do I say this for him or for me? My stomach is tangled, and my voice still seems stuck in my throat as I back away from him. ‘I suppose I’d best chuff off now.’
‘Chuffing off anywhere in particular?’ he asks with the kind of inconsequence I’m coming to understand means something else entirely. Usually that he has plans.
‘I have a flatulent poodle in Paddington that’s probably waiting for his dinner.’
This isn’t true. I’ve already been to the house to drop off my things where I fed, watered, and walked the little prince. But James doesn’t need to know that. He shouldn’t need to know that.
‘Join me for dinner first?’
I shake my head. ‘I don’t think that’s a good idea.’ Because we’re not together and anything else just confuses things.
‘You don’t?’ I silently berate myself for chewing the inside of my lip as he adds, ‘Any particular reason?’ I’m on the verge of allowing the deranged details and fears to spill when the automatic doorswhooshopen behind us and another couple steps out into the night air. I move to one side before I’m trampled because the pair are so wrapped up in the little black and white image that they’re each gripping a corner of, they’re oblivious to everything else.
That’s what this moment should look like, my mind screams.Not spontaneous invitations to dinner before falling into bed for a spot of casual sex.
‘I just don’t think it’s a good idea.’ The statement is like a volley of little bullets leaving my mouth. So much so, I’m surprised he doesn’t duck.
His hands curve around my elbows as he leads me to the side of the building, away from the door and further disruptions. ‘Is this about the condom?’
Something deep inside me clenches at the memory, a blooming burst of sensation that contradicts my stance.Sex with him is anything but casual.And after that night, if I hadn’t already been pregnant, would I now be?
‘Why?’ The latter isn’t a thought but an actual word, free in the air and requiring an answer. But from which of us?
‘Why am I asking?’ He pauses, and my expression twists. ‘Why did I...?’
‘Why did you take it off?’ My utterance is more gauntlet than velvet glove thrown at his feet. Why did you take it off and thrust yourself inside me with a look of such ownership?
‘Why did you agree?’ His answer is so blithe; I find myself crossing my arms across my chest as though to protect myself. The simple answer would be that it’s impossible to make a rational decision when you’re so turned on yourself. Maybe I’m wrong, but the moment felt more significant than that. Larger. More meaningful.
Or maybe it was just evolutionary biology controlling us both. Nature’s urge driving us to procreate.
‘I—’ I halt, unable to go on without incriminating myself because I say this thing between us can’t happen, that a casual dinner or casual sex isn’t in my forward plans when, at that moment, I wanted to be consumed by him. I revelled in his touch and his power over me. I wanted him inside me, wild and without restraint.
Of course, I can’t share any of that as an explanation.
