Page 12

ROSIE

The waiting room is quiet with only one or two couples sitting in chairs, all engrossed in their phones. Which is great for me as the man currently sat next to me is about as incognito as an elephant.

“I can’t believe you think the hat is working,” I grumble under my breath. Jackson is decked out in jeans and a black hoodie showing off his broad shoulders and rippling muscles, and I have to remind my ovaries that we’re already fertilized.

Jackson sits back, the seat creaking beneath him, widening his jean clad legs until his knee nudges mine. “I thought a full balaclava would scare the poor nurses.”

“I don’t think scaring them is the worry.”

He leans closer to my ear to reply before my name is announced by a woman in a nurses uniform.

I jump, almost knocking Jackson’s hat off his head in my eagerness to stand up.

We follow the nurse down the hall. I’ve had a handful of appointments so far but this is the first time we’re going to see anything exciting.

It’s also the first time Jackson’s been able to get away from set and I’m not used to his presence beside me, his hand brushing mine as we walk.

I hook my hand on the strap of my handbag and plunge the other into my pocket, desperate to keep them occupied.

“The midwife will be with you shortly,” the nurse says as she ushers us inside.

The room is covered in dioramas of fetuses and other paraphernalia, almost every wall covered with pictures of babies.

It’s enough to be overwhelming. I really don’t want to think about how the child of the giant man behind me is getting ready to exit my body through, in my opinion, a very small opening.

“I think that’s your spot, pretty girl,” Jackson says, gently nudging me towards the bed in the middle of the room.

“Right,” I say quietly. I pull my bag off my shoulder and he gently takes it from me, looping it over his own.

“Do I—do I take my clothes off?”

He glances at me with a wry smile. “I’m new here too, baby.”

The casual endearment is barely enough to distract me from my nerves. What’s more embarrassing? The midwife asking me to take my clothes off or greeting her stark naked?

Clothes on, I think.

I take a deep breath as I fidget with my fingers. My feet barely touch the floor on the bed so I swing them mindlessly.

Jackson peruses the artwork before coming to my side, resting his hand on my knee and stilling it.

I’m quickly getting used to his absentminded contact. Each time he reaches for me, my heart rate speeds up and calms down at the same time, like the most intoxicating drug .

His thumb rubs across the seam of my jeans, his fingers sliding between my thighs

Instead of my own twiddling fingers, I stare at his.

Tan skin and prominent veins, the hint of a tattoo peeking out the bottom of his sleeve.

I stop myself from tugging the material back so I can assess them all.

I haven’t been able to take inventory of all of his tattoos yet, but I’m itching to.

How many does he have? Twenty? Thirty? Where are they all?

How many have I had a glimpse of? I can’t stop my finger from gently tracing the ink, lightly fingering the edge of his sleeve.

I hear Jackson suck in a low breath before the door opens and an older woman with a cheerful smile enters, her blonde bob bouncing around her shoulders. She’s matronly, exactly as I’d expect a midwife to look.

“Hello there, my name is Christine and I’ll be your midwife today. It’s lovely to meet you Rosalie.” She offers her hand and I remove mine from Jackson’s.

“Rosie.” I shake her hand. “And this is Jackson. He’s the—y’know.”

Jackson leans forward for her hand.

“Oh, I already knew you were here. The girls at reception have already talked my ear off about you.” She says with a warm smile, “But don’t worry, we’re very discreet.”

“I appreciate that, Christine. Trying to fly as under the radar as possible.”

“You got it.” Christine assures him before turning to me.

“So Rosie.” She pulls out a clipboard, “I’m just going to check your blood pressure and ask you some questions if that’s okay.”

“Yeah sure,” I say, pulling my sleeve up.

Christine slides the blood pressure cuff up my arm. “When was your last period? ”

“Uh, May sometime.” Christine nods and writes it down in her notebook.

I shift in my seat, “The uh-conception was the 24th June.”

Christine doesn’t look up from her notebook, “That’s great, love, but I don’t need to know that. We go from the date of your last period.”

I blush as Jackson chuckles softly beside me.

“You’ll be around twelve weeks. Perfect, we can go ahead with the scan now. If you lean back on the chair and lift your shirt above your tummy. Dad, you can go around that side for the best view.”

Jackson stands frozen for a few seconds before he jumps into motion. “Yep, that’s me.”

Dad.

Whoa.

Swinging my legs onto the bed, I hike my shirt up. I ignore the awkwardness of Jackson seeing my belly. It looks mostly the same as usual, if with maybe the slightest curve indicating there’s something in there other than bread.

I can’t help but let my hand cover the exposed skin as I wait for Christine to prepare the ultrasound wand.

I turn my head away from Jackson’s, pretending to be engrossed in Christine’s fascinating process of sliding gloves on and clicking buttons on the computer.

His hand comes to cover mine, gently curving around my fingers and tugging my hand away. “You okay there, pretty girl?”

“Uhuh,” I nod, offering him an awkward smile.

The man has literally held me as I sobbed in his arms, not to mention impregnated me. Why am I always so awkward ?

“Okay, here we go. It will be slightly cold.” Christine says, approaching my side.

My skin jumps as she applies the jelly, before she firmly presses the wand to my stomach.

“Let’s see here. Ah, there they are.” Christine smiles as she turns the screen to face us and my heart stops in my chest.

I’m suddenly glad Jackson hasn’t let go of my hand as I squeeze his tightly.

I’m also glad Christine uses a gloved finger to gesture to the blob on the screen. “There’s your baby.”

“Wow,” Jackson says under his breath, cradling my hand in both of his and leaning closer to the screen. “There she is.”

I let out a watery laugh. “They look like a little smudge, how can you tell it’s a girl?”

“I have a feeling.”

Christine moves the wand further and presses a few buttons. “There. I’m going to give you two a moment, but all looks healthy. Congratulations.”

I think I thank her but the room around me fades away. All I can feel is Jackson’s hands on mine and all I can see is the little smudge on the screen that’s growing inside me.

“She looks like you,” Jackson whispers in my ear.

I huff a wet laugh and wipe my tears.

“Look, can you see that?”

He leans over me and points at the screen.

“See what?” I whisper, leaning closer.

“Tiny little glasses.”

I playfully nudge him with a laugh. “Shut up, she’s going to have twenty/twenty vision, I’m manifesting it.”

We stare at the screen until the midwife comes back in, turning the lights back on and making my eyes flutter .

Jackson listens intently as Christine hands him pamphlet after pamphlet and his arm lingers at my back as we leave the hospital.

He opens the door to the car and waits until I’m inside and buckled before closing it and rounding to the driver’s side. I take the ultrasound out of my bag and stare at it as the car pulls out of the car park.

I glance at Jackson as he shifts in his seat, one arm outstretched on the wheel with the sleeve rolled up. My eyes linger on the veins on his forearms and my mouth goes dry. His forearm is probably the size of my calf. I bite my tongue to quench the urge to trace it along each vein.

“Can we go somewhere?” I ask before I can stop myself.

He glances at me with a slow grin. “You taking me on that date, pretty girl? We really do everything backwards.”

I blush and readjust my glasses. “No—uh, never mind.”

His large palm connects with my leg, squeezing gently. The warmth travels from his hand all the way to between my legs and I have to concentrate not to clench them together and trap his hand there. “Where shall we go?”

I look out the windshield, and bite my lip. I have no idea. We’re on the M25 and I glance at a sign. “Take this exit.”

Concentrating, Jackson easily pulls across all five lanes and it’s not long before the motorway turns to country roads. I offer up vague directions until we’re eventually pulling into a long manor house.

Jackson reverses into a space, his hand on the back of my chair as he twists his body.

We step out into the frigid air, breathing in the fresh country air. Jackson waits for me to round the car before we head towards the old manor house.

“I’ve wanted to come here for ages.”

“How come? ”

I shrug. “I don’t know, I used to drive past it on my way back home and I used to tell myself that I’d come have a look but I never did.”

“Who lived here?” he asks.

“No idea.”

Jackson laughs and rubs his hands together. “Let’s learn. I hope they have an audio guide.”

He orders both our tickets and pays despite my protest. He also pays extra for us both to use a personal guide and he fits the orange headphones over my head.

“You’re taking this so seriously,” I laugh after he lines both our guidebooks up so they start at the same time.

“Shh, you’re going to miss it.”

“Welcome to Ealbury House. This tour starts to the right of the grand staircase,” the automatic voice drawls in my ear.

“This way,” Jackson says eagerly, grabbing my hand and tugging me towards the starting point.

I can’t help the giggle that escapes as he doesn’t let me go, dragging me along the predestined route and stopping at every single picture, artifact or talking point.

“Did you know they used to use this as the prayer room?” Jackson asks when we walk in the room.

“Yeah, I learned that when you did, you dork.”

“Fascinating.” His earnest expression is adorable.

I’ve never spent this long on any kind of museum tour, instead walking at a regular, if not speedy, pace and taking in everything in the periphery.

I can barely even concentrate on the droning voice of the tour guide, eventually pulling the headphones around my neck and waiting for Jackson to burst out with tidbits and fun facts. (“This is where they bathed!”)

Eventually, the tour ends and we are thrown outside into the setting sun. The air is significantly chillier now, summer officially on its way out and a light fog settles on the horizon, the sprawling garden bathed in sunlight.

“That was fun,” Jackson says with a grin.

“I didn’t expect you to enjoy it as much as you did,” I laugh, rubbing my cold fingers together before tucking them in my coat pocket.

Jackson gently eases my arm out of my pocket and loops it around his own.

“I love an audio guide. My dad used to load us all up in the car and take us somewhere new every weekend. If the weather was bad, he’d drag us out to museums and would get each of us a guide.

Then he used to test me and my sisters on everything we learned on the drive home.

We used to be so competitive about it but the older I get the more I think he just wanted a few hours of peace without us screaming and running around. Then I just got used to them.”

“I love that,” I tell him softly. I’ve heard a lot about his mother and sisters, but he’s never brought up his dad willingly. “What’s your dad’s name?”

“Oliver.” He says, gazing out over the quiet gardens. “He didn’t really believe in a lazy weekend, so we were always doing something.”

“I don’t think my parents ever took us anywhere that wasn’t a shopping center, and even that would usually end in a screaming match. Well, no, they went to Buckingham Palace one year for Cleo’s Duke of Edinburgh award.”

“The what?”

“It’s like a torture regime they give teenagers in England,” I say dryly. “It’s a week of camping in the Brecon Beacons with a map and a soggy tent. But at the end of it there’s a fancy trip to the palace to get a certificate.”

“I can imagine teenage you in waterproofs,” Jackson teases .

“I uh—I didn’t do it.” I say, glancing out into the distance.

I came home from school after the teachers announced it was time to sign up, and I was thrilled to tell my mum.

To go shopping for supplies and get a hug as soon as I got off the bus when I came home with a tired grin, then later dressing up fancy with my parents and going to London without my sister. Just me and them.

“Why not?”

My mum left the permission slip on the counter where it stayed until the winter.

“I—I just didn’t, I guess.” I can feel Jackson’s gaze warming my face so I plaster on a smile, “I would have hated it anyway. I hate camping.”

“Have you been since?”

“Once, just after university. I wanted to go traveling but it didn’t happen either. Kind of like coming here. I could have done it at any time, but I had to pick between using my savings for a flat deposit or traveling, and I chose logically.”

“Where would you have gone?”

I shrug. “Pacific probably. Australia, Thailand.” I lick my lips as I glance up at him. “New Zealand.”

Jackson laughs and throws his arm around me tugging him to his side.

“I’ll take you to New Zealand don’t worry, pretty girl.

I won’t be able to keep you away when my mother meets you.

She’s already nagging me to put you on the phone, so if you get a random friend request it will most likely be her. ”

“I can talk to her, if you’d like me to,” I say quietly. God, what must she think of me? The random girl her son hooked up with on the other side of the world.

“Here, let’s send her a picture.” He pulls his phone out of his pocket and tilts his face closer to mine. My glasses bump his jaw but it doesn’t stop the wide grin that breaks out on his face as we smile into the camera.

He presses some buttons on the screen.

“Send her the ultrasound too,” I say, digging it out of my bag.

He smiles wider. “Come here.” I’m tugged back under his arm as I hold the ultrasound up to our faces.

I glance at the photo. It’s the first one of the three of us.