“I need to sit down,” I say, changing the subject. “Want to eat shit and watch crappy TV with me?” I don’t wait for his reply as I pull snacks out of the pantry before throwing myself onto my couch. A fuzzy blanket sits at my feet and my insides warm. Owen must have pulled that out for me earlier. As the month of October moves along, so does the chill that creeps into the air and my flat. London is all fun and games until the cold comes back, and that is most of the time.
“So?” I call out to him when he emerges from the bathroom and leans against my doorframe. I try not to let my gaze trail over the outline of his biceps against the T-shirt he wears, or the way his jeans meld to his skin without being obnoxiously tight. Or his tan skin against that golden-blond hair. Nope. No, Lottie, pull it together.
I avert my gaze to Owen’s face, which now holds a smirk as he’s caught me.
“Please, feel free to stare. I’m here all day.”
I roll my eyes and throw the nearest pillow at him, then turn back to the TV to pick the newest Real Housewives of OC.
Owen’s broad frame moves around my room before stopping in front of a photograph of me as a child that’s perched on my mantle.
“This you?” he asks, staring down at two-year-old me. I’m flashing a big smile and in my favourite yellow dress with pigtails.
“The one and only,” I confirm. “It was my second birthday and my parents had gone all out—Mum dressed me to the nines. She said I refused to take that dress off all week, and she had to wash it daily.”
“You still have it?”
“The dress?”
He nods.
I shrug. “No. Mum kept all my baby stuff, but most of it was lost in one of their moves. We still have a few things, but not much. This little gal will be getting a whole new wardrobe.” I grin, rubbing my flat stomach.
Owen smiles at the photo before placing it back with care and coming over to me. He loses the look on his face when he spots what we’re watching.
“Oh God, Lottie, not Orange County,” he begs, my couch dipping as he sits down next to me.
I grin, knowing this is his least favorite of the franchise. And I say “least favorite” because he does in fact have a favorite, although I’m sure he’d never admit it outside this flat. It’s the New York housewives, if you’re wondering. His mum, Evie, is obsessed, hence pulling Owen in with her.
“But I haven’t seen this week,” I say, pouting. “Please, just this one episode, and then we can watch Lord of the whatever or Star Trek.”
He nudges my leg. “It’s Lord of the Rings and Star Wars.” He shakes his head, like how could I possibly not know. It’s Owen’s little secret that he’s a nerd about superheroes and comic books. And I say “nerd” in a totally loving way; I think it’s adorable. I’m not even sure it’s something he hides. From what I’ve gathered, no one has ever bothered to really ask.
“Anyway, we have a deal?” I turn and give him my hand, waiting for him to shake it. Finally relenting, he connects his with my own, my mind not able to ignore how instantly my body reacts to him.
DANGER ZONE. ABORT.
I question if he sees it too, because after I pull away as if I’ve been stung, his hand lingers for a few moments, a pensive look crossing his face.
Neither of us says anything more as the episode begins, my body relaxing a little too much as my mind drifts off to sleep.
The last thing I remember is being lifted from one place of comfort to the next.
I wake up at ten the next day to an empty apartment, tucked tightly into my bed. I don’t remember falling asleep or Owen leaving.
Instantly feeling bad for being such a dud, I pull out my phone and see messages from Emilia and Stana hoping I feel better, before I spot one from Owen.
Hey sleepyhead,
I let myself out when your snoring became too much for me to handle.
I’ve got some work on the next few days, but I’ll message you.
O
I quickly reply, apologizing for my suckiness before pulling myself out of bed, my shift starting in two hours. Pulling off my pajamas, I stare into my full-length mirror, my pale skin bright against the darkness of my curtained bedroom. My hands can’t resist slowly moving over my flat stomach. Not even a little sign there is a tiny human growing inside of me.
To be completely honest, the concept hasn’t fully sunk in yet. I mean, I’ve had a few doctor’s appointments and am taking care of myself, but besides that, I think I’m still trying to grasp the situation I’ve landed myself in.
I know absolutely nothing about children, and I’m pretty sure there are only so many books one can read before needing some real hands-on experience. I am not exactly maternal. I’m blunt and although it comes from a place of love, I don’t think you’re supposed to be that way with kids.
“Fuck,” I yell out before wanting to chastise myself. You can’t swear in front of kids; I’m pretty sure that’s the number-one rule. And here I am like a bloody sailor.
Attempting to ignore my epic fails, I throw on some of my favorite black jeans that probably only have a month or two of wear left in them before I blow up.
My mobile goes off next to my bed as I’m attempting to pull a yellow sweater over my head. I grab it, righting myself before answering.
“If you called any later, I would have had to put out a missing person’s report!” I yell into the phone, sitting down on my bed as I talk to my mother.
“Lottie, my darling, how are you?” My mother’s cheery accent flows through the phone, and I can only imagine the shenanigans she’s gotten up to. Despite my parents’ departure from London three years ago, we’ve stayed close. This is the first time I’ve heard from her in a week, so I’d guess she’s living her best life.
“I’m good, Mum. How are you? How’s Dad?”
“Oh, Lottie, you wouldn’t believe it. We’ve been on safari for the past week and had no service to call! I hope we didn’t worry you, my dear.”
I shake my head, despite them not being able to see me. “I had a feeling that was the case, Mum. You and Dad off on yet another adventure.” I grin, happy the two of them can live their life to the fullest.
“I just wish you’d come with us one of these days. You really are missed.”
There is something about the connection I formed with my parents being an only child. I really feel as if it can go one of two ways. Either you become close or the pressure pushes you apart. I’m lucky my situation was the former. Poor Stana hasn’t been so lucky. Although my mum and her dad are siblings, there isn’t a lot of similarity between them, travel probably being the only one.
While Stana’s parents love her, their life has always been focused on the two of them. It wasn’t abnormal for Stana to fit into their plans rather than them fitting in around hers, and occasionally they’d forget about her in full. Her mum sees what she wants to and while her dad is a nice guy, he’s just as clueless. I know I’m probably a harsh critic of them, but they let Stana fade away in Los Angeles and never noticed anything was wrong. That bothers me.
While my mum and dad have their flaws, they’ve always put me first and taken care of me. Even now when I’m twenty-five, they still want me to gallivant with them on their global travels.