“I swear I’m okay. I just skipped breakfast and it’s made me a little dizzy.” I munch on the muesli bar she handed me, attempting to keep it down. It’s only a little over two months into this pregnancy, but so far I’m going through hell. The morning sickness is unparalleled, and don’t get me started on the dizzy spells.
Joan looks me over one more time before going to serve a customer. I doubt she’s fully convinced, but I’m not ready to spill the beans. She’s been working here over twenty years and has four children of her own, so I’m sure she’s clued in. But she would never ask, and therefore I don’t have to tell…well, not just yet.
I scarf down the rest of my bar, feeling a little better before going back to serve the next person in line.
Henry’s Chemist was the first place I got a job post-uni, and I stayed here until Beck swept me off to Edinburgh earlier this year. Luckily, Joan and I stayed in contact. Otherwise I’d be not only pregnant, but also jobless.
I quickly check myself over in my compact mirror, thankful my mascara hasn’t smudged and that I don’t look too disheveled. I pull at my sleeves, making sure they cover the tattoos on my arm. It’s not a policy, but I know they prefer a more polished look behind the counter. My feet wiggle in my black combat boots, my only touch of personality in this entire getup.
I take a deep breath, centering myself, now ready to serve whoever comes my way.
“So, are you bringing Noel tomorrow?” Stana leans against the brown table at Saint Street, her vision directed at Em. I keep sipping my mineral water, thankful that my stomach hasn’t decided to revolt against this morning’s breakfast.
“I might be,” Emilia replies, her voice coy in regard to the lad she is dating. Stana wants to cook dinner for all of us, a sort of pre-housewarming for close friends before the party they’re having later in the month.
“I’m so excited.” Stana beams. “Ali thinks I’m over-catering, but imagine if we didn’t have enough food.” The look of pure horror that crosses her face as she talks about her first dinner party that she’s hosting tomorrow makes me laugh.
“I think you’re going to be fine,” I tell her.
“Are you going to bring anyone, Lottie?”
We’re all quiet for a moment from Em’s question, my mind wanting to yell, “Just bringing my baby!” But I hold off.
“Nah, just myself. I think it’s going to be a while before I jump into the dating pond again.” I mean it more in regard to the fact I’m pregnant, but since neither of the girls know that, I assume they take it to mean because of Beck.
“You’ll meet someone extraordinary one day, Lo. I know it can be hard to see the light when you’re used to so much darkness, but it will happen.”
I smile at Stana and her words of reassurance, taking her hand in mine.
“I know,” I confirm. “To be completely honest, it’s not even Beck. I’m just not ready to jump into anything.”
“What about Owen?” Em throws out, the time I’ve been spending with him apparent.
“We’re just friends, honestly. It’s been nice to be around a bloke who isn’t a total lying snake.”
They nod.
“Owen is good people, Lottie. People are quick to judge him because he’s so attractive and chats up the ladies. They just assume there’s no substance underneath,” Em tells me, her voice fierce with the loyalty she holds for her friend. It only makes me love her more.
I think back to the first time I met Owen. I might have had similar preconceived notions, notions that now make my heart ache, because every word Emilia is saying is correct.
“I know, Em. He’s probably one of the most compassionate people I know,” I find myself admitting.
“Plus, he loves his mum!” Emilia adds in, a grin overtaking her face.
At the mention of his mum, Evie, my heart grows weary. I’ve yet to meet her and I worry she’ll be cautious of me due to my relationship with Owen. From what I know, she’s a surrogate mum to Emilia after the death of both of her parents, plus she has everyone over for Sunday dinners frequently. But she’s been overseas the past year, hence why Stana and I don’t know her yet.
“Very true,” Stana throws in.
“Well, you’d know,” I can’t help but reply. When Stana first moved to London, Owen set his sights on her right away. Obviously things didn’t work out romantically, but there must have been something there.
Stana turns to me, eyes wide. “Owen’s like my brother, Lottie. I know it’s hard to grasp because you only heard my side of it through the phone, but the fact we even considered a romance is laughable now.” She brushes it all off and I know she means every word, but it’s just that little nagging thing that rears its head in my mind every so often.
“It’s true, Lottie. Everyone knew Ali and Stana were endgame. Owen will be the first to admit that now.”
I avoid eye contact, trying to seem unaffected before I change the topic to tomorrow’s dinner party, my mind lingering on how Owen rarely brings up Stana, yet I seem to be stuck on that more than usual these days. And it’s I’m thinking about it at all that scares me.
My head hangs in the toilet as I wait for the rest of my lunch to come up. It’s not long till I’m dry-retching into the loo.
“Jesus Christ,” I mutter. “You just had to go and get knocked up, didn’t you, Charlotte?” I scold myself, hating the morning sickness that just won’t fuck off.
“I’ve got some tea here.” Owen places the hot mug on the counter, thankfully the scent of chamomile not making my stomach dance.
“Thanks, puppy. But you really don’t need to be here. Stana and Ali are having their dinner party tonight and you shouldn’t miss it because I can’t keep a meal down.”
Finally feeling as though I’m not going to puke, I stand up, then rinse my mouth out at the sink before going for my tea.
Owen stands behind me, my body practically warming to his presence as usual. I stare in the mirror, hoping I don’t look too disgusting. Slight bits of dark brown roots peek out from my head, the absence of my hair appointments already prominent.
“You look fine.” Owen’s voice is gentle in his attempt to calm me.
“Fine?” I laugh. “Puppy, word to the wise, no girl wants to be told she looks fine.”
He grins back at me, giving as good as he gets. “We both know you always look great, Lottie. What are you worried about?”
I roll my eyes, unable to take his compliment, so I change the subject, something I’ve become quite good at recently.
“Anyway, enough about that. Back to tonight. I really think you should go.”
He shakes his head, my gaze going to his freshly cut blond hair.
“Well, it’s too late. I’ve already texted them saying I have to work.”
“Owen!” I chastise him. “You didn’t need to do that. You can’t keep putting your social life on hold because some girl you know got pregnant.” I try to push past him, but his warm hand covers my arm.
“We both know you’re not just some girl, Lottie.”
I lock eyes with him, nodding, because we both know it’s true. Our strange relationship has become so much more than acquaintanceship, but it never crosses that invisible line. It’s as if we’ve both acknowledged there could be more with one another, yet at the same time we’ve never actually said it aloud.