Page 24

ROSIE

The last place I wanted to be was the pub with a group of men talking about my baby daddy.

Yet that was where I currently was, nursing a Diet Coke outside a crowded pub in Soho. After telling Gareth about my maternity leave today I thought it was safer to not rock the boat any more than necessary and agreed to the monthly after work drinks that I have literally never attended before.

Crowds of corporate professionals spill out onto the streets, backpacks and briefcases resting by their feet.

Getting a table between the hours of four and eight on a weeknight is next to impossible, so we’re huddled on the street corner wearing coats.

I stick my hand in my pocket, shifting back and forth on my feet.

I spend my days sitting down and my back aches from my desk chair but standing for an hour in the frigid air also causes pain to shoot down my spine.

There’s no winning and I shift uncomfortably as I try to drink my drink as fast as I can.

I should hold on at least until someone buys the next round, but judging from the half full pint glasses in everyone’ s hands, I know that won’t be for a while. I’m just about ready to make my excuses and leave.

“—Jackson Harper needs to come back to the universe?—”

I tune back into the conversation when I hear his name, my heart flipping at the sound.

After he came home with a bruise the size of my arm, I forced him to rest in bed for a few days until I was confident he wasn’t in pain with every movement.

It was almost impossible to let him walk out the door and go back to work, but he assured me that he was perfectly fine.

He’s been shooting away for the last few days and isn’t expected to be home for another week.

Home. I’ve been so used to him being in my flat, lounging on my sofa or curled around me in bed, that it only feels like home because he’s there.

I’m almost convinced Smudge knows he’s not there and that’s why she’s keeping me up.

I’ve had to create a Jackson sized form out of pillows just so I can fall asleep and I like to think it’s tricking Smudge into thinking he’s there.

“Nah, he’s done now. He’s doing some action film with Christian Denny, I think.”

I blink, remembering the men around me have no idea that the guy they’re talking about has been sleeping in my bed for the last few months and that his baby is currently growing inside me.

“Is it Christian Denny? No way is he directing another action film. He’s been doing those girly melodramas. No explosions or anything.”

I roll my eyes. How have I somehow managed to work with a group of people who’s enjoyment of media is limited to explosions and CGI?

“I’m looking it up,” Kevin says, pulling his phone out .

I take another sip of my drink before Kevin’s incredulous laugh grabs my attention.

I look up to find him already looking at me, his confused gaze drifting between me and the phone.

My spine straightens, tension radiating through my body. What? I squint at him. I’m ready to make my excuses. My drink is nearly finished and I’m about done with this day.

Kevin looks back at his phone and nudges Conor next to him, showing him the screen. Conor’s eyes widen before he too glances at me like I’ve just announced I’m running for Prime Minister.

Enough of this. “What?” I ask sharply.

Kevin laughs, his eyes darkening with glee before he meaningfully glances at my stomach.

“You’ve been keeping that quiet.”

I freeze. What?

I blink, my mouth dropping open. Conor passes the phone onto Lee until there’s a circle of guys staring at me like I’ve just taken all my clothes off in the middle of the street.

“Jackson Harper, Rosie? How the hell did you pull that off?” Lee gapes at me.

My stomach drops. “Give me that.” I grab the phone out of his limp hand as snickers erupt around me.

It’s an article.

JACKSON HARPER EXPECTING BABY WITH INFLUENCER CLEO TAYLOR’S SISTER, ROSALIE

What? The word reverberates around my skull as my fingers tremble. I click on the article but what I see nearly makes me drop the phone .

I shove it and my empty glass into Lee’s hands before stumbling away.

“Wait Rosie, where did you even meet him?”

“Can you get me an autograph?”

I don’t hear them as I fumble in my bag for my phone. Tugging it free, I almost collapse against a wall as I click on the video.

“Get ready with me as I tell you the story about how my sister Rosie got knocked up by Jackson Harper. Yeah, that one…”

Cleo.

Cleo posted this? I can barely concentrate on the words coming out of her mouth, barely recognizing the background of my parents bathroom as she goes through a ten step makeup routine while she tells millions of people about my baby.

I barely have time to hunch over before I vomit on the street. I’ve hardly thrown up now that I’m halfway through my second trimester, so I’ve almost forgotten the feeling. People dart away from me making disgusted noises and my throat convulses as I heave.

Is this what rock bottom feels like? I wipe my mouth with shaking hands and push myself to stand.

I need to get home.

I stumble toward the road, hailing a black cab. I fumble with the handle before sliding into the car, the cracked windows sending a frosty breeze across my shaking fingers as I grip my phone in my hand.

“Where to, love?” the driver asks, his cockney accent thick.

I rattle off my address, taking a deep breath to quell the nausea swirling in my stomach.

I feel the driver glance at me, but I rest my forehead on the window trying to cool my heated blood .

It’s okay, I just need to get home.

The street lights blur behind my vision and my eyes itch. Stupid contacts. I wish I was wearing my glasses.

With shaking hands, I bring my phone back up and search the internet for Jackson’s name.

Why would she do this?

She’s always hated me. Always relished in humiliating me, but this?

I cradle my belly with my hand.

I’m sorry, Smudge.

I take a calming breath and close the app, switching to Jackson’s contact. I don’t want to bother him at work. He hasn’t messaged me yet but surely he knows. Everyone knows.

I feel like people can tell which taxi I’m in, gaping at me as I crawl past them in bumper-to-bumper traffic.

I click on his name and raise the phone to my ear.

“Hey it’s me, leave a message and I’ll get back to you.”

I hang up before I leave a message. What would I even say? ‘ Hi, hope your day is going well. My evil sister leaked the baby news to the whole world and made me out to be a fame chasing gold digger, so I’m feeling a little upset. ’

I send him a text instead.

Me

Call me when you can x

I put my phone down and gaze out the window, the busy flashing lights of central London giving way to urban side streets and local shops.

I dial another number.

“Hello?” my mother says.

“Mum.” I hate the way my voice breaks .

“Rosalie? Look, I know what you’re going to say, and I really think I should stay out of it.”

I blink. “What?”

“Whatever this is, it’s between you girls. I don’t know why you always put me in the middle.”

“Mum, she doxxed me!”

She scoffs. “I don’t even know what that means.”

“Mum, she’s spreading lies about me, about Jackson, about my baby . Your grandchild .”

She pauses. “She’s only trying to help.”

“Help?” I laugh incredulously. “You think what she’s done is helping ? Have you seen what people have been saying about me?”

“I don’t want to know, Rose. You girls need to sort this out between yourselves.”

I pull the phone away from my ear. She hung up on me.

I drop my phone in my lap and press my hands to my eyes. I take a deep breath. I cannot cry in the back of this cab. I’m nearly home. I just have to hold on a few more minutes.

I sniff and fold my arms, gazing out the window.

The cab slowly starts to move down familiar streets, and I tell myself it’s only a few more minutes until I’m inside my flat, buried under my blankets and hidden from the rest of the world.

“I might have to drop you off up the road, love,” the driver says, gesturing to the road ahead of him. “Looks like the pub’s got a party on or something.”

My stomach drops as I spot the crowd gathered further up the road from the pub, outside the door to my flat.

“Keep driving,” I say brokenly.

The driver listens, barely slowing to a crawl as he passes the small crowd gathered outside my garden gate .

What. The. Fuck.

People are here? Outside my house?

With shaking fingers, I pick up my phone again.

She lives in London?? One comment reads.

Yeah, Clapham, next to The Old Crown pub.

Making the most of JH being over here.

There’s no way he’d move from LA just for some fat bitch.

What. The. Fuck.

Why would they even need my address? In what world does a story like this warrant people coming to my house ?

My breath starts to come in shallowly as my vision blurs.

“Are you alright, love?” the driver asks.

I nod my head. Or at least I think I do. It could be that my neck has lost all support and it’s trying to remove itself from my spine.

My phone vibrates in my hand and I pick it up without thinking.

“Hello?” I say shakily.

“Rosie? Are you okay?” My best friend squeals in my ear, her familiar tone causing the tears to finally flow.

“Hey,” I say weakly. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Rose, oh my God. Okay, where are you?”

“I uh—I can’t go home, there’s people there. Annie, there’s people outside my house.”

Anya swears and I hear her voice muffled like she’s pulled the phone away from her face.

“I don’t…I don’t know what to do. What do I do?” I clench my fists to stop my fingers from shaking.

“Okay Rosie, listen to me, are you walking?”

“No, I’m in a taxi.”

“Alright babe, you’ll go straight to ours. Do you still have your key?”

“Uh,” I say, swallowing thickly. I’ve had the key to Anya and Danny’s townhouse since they left before the wedding. Ostensibly it was to take care of the one plant Anya decided to keep, but it died before she ever left the country so I haven’t visited once. “Yeah, yeah I have it.”

“Okay, give the driver the address and head there.”

“Jackson–”

“He can meet you there.”

“He’s on set, he won’t even be back in the city until the weekend.”

“We’ll let him know where you are, don’t worry,” Anya reassures me. “Listen to me, Rosie. This is just a crisis and we love a crisis, don’t we?”

“Yeah,” I mumble, “I usually like your crises though, it’s never been me.”

Anya laughs down the line. “There, so this was a long time coming. And babe you know how to make a splash.”

I laugh weakly, sniffing loudly.

“Hang on,” I say into the phone, “Uhm excuse me, can you take me to Richmond.” I rattle off Anya’s address.

“Sure thing love, I’ll get you there.”

“Thanks,” I say before wiping my eyes and curling back to my phone. “I wanted to tell you Annie.”

Anya laughs, “Hold that thought, we will be talking about this in detail as soon as I know you’re not just driving around South London crying your eyes out.”

I laugh again. “Okay.”

“Can I say that I fucking hate your sister?” she bursts out.

“Annie,” I say weakly.

“I hated her since the day she commented that you looked frumpy in your nineteenth birthday dress. Do you remember that? I do. I’ll never forget it. I thought that girl was either blind, dumb or jealous because you looked like a smokeshow in that dress and then you never wore it again.”

“I still have it.”

“It would be a crime to get rid of it. Leave me alone in a room with her, and I tell you she won’t have that smug grin for one more minute.”

I take a breath. “I can’t talk about her, Anya, I can’t think about her right now.”

“Okay, okay fine, this is a discussion for another time. But I just want it acknowledged that I hate that bitch.”

“Acknowledged,” I say weakly.

“Babe, I have to go but text me as soon as you’re inside the house. The guest room is all set up so text me and leave your phone in the living room. Don’t look at it, don’t think about it, just go to bed okay?”

“Okay,” I say nodding. “I will.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“Is this the place?” the driver asks, pulling up in front of Anya’s house.

“Yes, thank you.” I fumble for my purse.

“Don’t worry about it love, you just get inside safely, okay?”

If I hadn’t spent the last thirty minutes of my life sobbing, I would probably burst into tears again. “Thank you,” I say shakily, shoving cash under the glass separator. “Have a nice night.”

I stumble out of the cab and up the path, fumbling with Anya’s key in the lock and disabling the alarm.

I don’t even take in my surroundings as I send her a thank you text and toe out of my shoes, crawling into the guest bed and crawling under the covers before the tears start again.

I barely have the energy to take my contacts out before I fall asleep cradling my belly and pray that I’ll wake up from my nightmare.