Page 9

ROSIE

The tube carriage sways under my feet like I’m surfing and my stomach flips. I take a deep breath through the thin gap in my lips to prevent my breakfast spewing over the other passengers in the carriage.

At what point can I wear one of those cute ‘baby on board’ badges so I can haggle for a seat? Do I have to be showing? When will that be? Maybe I should start doing some real research instead of just googling ‘Can I eat rice whilst pregnant?’. I make a mental note to start buying some baby books.

At the next stop, someone gets out of their seat and I maneuver my way through the crowd towards it.

Just before I sit, a guy in his early twenties wearing an expensive tennis kit sits down, spreading his legs and taking up more space on the aisle.

Great. Getting that badge has now become the number one priority.

I used to love the tube, used to love the commute that would take forty minutes of my day. I used to swan around in a trench coat and smile at tourists visiting my city and meet friends for brunch in central .

But then, one by one, all my local friends moved away.

Anya went to America, my friend Penny from work left to go to a different post-production house in Manchester.

Even my old boss Kathleen retired and had a mid career switch, leaving me with a team of guys who would rather talk around me than to me.

Gareth sent out an email late last night telling me I needed to come in on Saturday to catch up on my missed work.

I asked if I could work from home but he ignored the email, his way of telling me an obvious no .

I had thought the others would be there too but no, just me.

Gritting my teeth, I had hooked my phone up to the office speakers and spent eight hours logging transcripts, only emerging into the late afternoon sun when my eyes started to cross.

I need to tell work that I’ll be going on maternity leave, but I looked it up and I have until I’m twenty five weeks before I legally have to tell them.

Predicting that Gareth is going to sigh heavily at the news, I’m more than happy to wait another few months before confessing.

He can complain all he wants but I’m within my legal rights to have fifty two weeks off, though I’m under no illusions that whoever comes in as my maternity cover will undoubtedly be a crucial member of the team by the time I’m ready to come back.

My statutory maternity pay will only cover the first few months of my rent, and that doesn’t even begin to cover the added expenses of raising a baby.

I can’t think about it all too hard without panicking.

The train judders to a stop and I cling to the metal railing to avoid toppling into the lap of the wannabe Andy Murray.

All I want to do now is unbutton my jeans and eat my weight in the salted caramel ice cream I saved in my freezer.

The craving gripped me about an hour ago and if I don’t eat it soon I will most likely burst into tears. Again .

I’ve never cried as much as I have in the last week. It’s like my face is just a water balloon prone to leaking. If this baby is going to play with my tear ducts this much, I don’t know how I’m going to survive the next seven months.

The tube launches to a stop and I shuffle through the crowd onto the platform. When I emerge into the fresh slightly chilled air, my phone buzzes in my pocket.

Jackson

How was your day?

I bite back a smile. It’s nice to have someone ask me that, to have someone care.

Me

I had to work so not great. How was yours?

He types for a few minutes and I tuck my phone back in my pocket.

Finally it buzzes.

Jackson

How well my day is going kind of depends on you pretty girl.

Huh? I scrunch my brows in confusion before turning the corner onto my street.

“Hey,” Jackson says from outside my front door, his hands in his pockets and his pearly white grin pulling at his cheeks. His hair is tied back behind his neck and he has a baseball hat pulled low over his head. He basically looks like a male model. Which he is , I remind myself.

Good lord, what have I gotten myself into?

“Hi,” I reply dryly, unable to stop the smile from escaping .

“I swear I haven’t been waiting outside for you all day like a creeper.” He steps closer, hands raised innocently.

“How do I know that?” I ask, lifting my chin.

“I promise. I showed up a few minutes ago but I didn’t want to make it weird and just ask you where you were. So I thought I’d be clever about it.”

I laugh as I take my keys out of my bag. “You can come in.”

“Yes,” he cheers. “Are you going to cry this time?”

I roll my eyes trying to hide my smile. Why is this man sexy, sweet and funny? It’s like a cruel triple threat. My poor womb had no hope at all. “No, I’m not going to cry.”

He chuckles softly behind me as I lead him up the stairs.

“I like your place by the way,” he says as I unlock the door.

“You’ve only seen the kitchen.” I reply dryly.

“You don’t sleep in here?”

“Well, this is the living room and then the bathroom is down that little corridor and the bedroom is opposite. Don’t ask me where a baby is going to fit.

I haven’t got that far yet.” I bite my lip.

Maybe I shouldn’t have said that. “I’ll find a place for it, obviously.

I mean the baby, not it . I figure they will sleep in my room for the first part anyway, so I think that’ll be okay.

Or maybe I could, like, move into the living room.

I’ll just need to get a new sofa, since my one is pretty small at the moment.

But maybe I should probably spend my money on the stuff for the baby rather than a new sofa?—”

I’m halted by a finger on my lips. “Where does that brain go, pretty girl?”

I clamp my lips together behind his finger, the warm digit making me remember what it felt like when his hands were– Rosie, concentrate .

I hold my breath until he removes his hand with a smirk. My blush probably gives away where my traitorous mind took me.

“Cool set-up.” Jackson gestures to my desk, wandering closer.

“Yeah, it’s for work and play.” Jackson tugs the chair out from under the desk, glancing at the two consoles underneath.

“I have this one for work and then this one for gaming. I spent an afternoon folding away all my wires so I could switch between without having to get on my hands and knees and unplug. And so my work wouldn’t slow down when I want to play games. ”

“You’re such a nerd,” Jackson teases with a smile. “It’s cute.”

I hide my blush by fiddling with my glasses. He spins in the chair and sits, the familiar squeak at the movement filling the room.

“Rosie.” He shifts his large body, the chair protesting under his weight. “What the fuck is this chair?”

“What do you mean?” I laugh.

The look he shoots me is a cross between bewildered and concerned.

“This is like some sort of medieval torture device.”

“I love my chair!” I say defensively. “I saved up for this for ages.”

“Why does it feel like I’m simultaneously sitting on a steel bar and a yoga mat?”

I laugh, my hand resting along the back of the fluffy chair. “It’s ergonomic.”

“Rosie, there is no way this thing is good for you. You’d be better off sitting on a metal fence. Why is it so wide?”

“It’s so I can sit with my legs crossed. ”

The look Jackson gives me makes me snort with laughter.

“I don’t understand this. I’m getting you a new chair.”

“No!” I protest, shoving at his shoulder until he takes the hint and rises. “Look, it’s perfect.” I sit on the chair, the thin padding that has definitely seen better days barely cushioning my butt. I fold my legs up and tuck them underneath me, shooting him a smile. “Ergonomic.”

He shakes his head with a laugh. “You’re delusional.”

I slide the chair under the desk and out with just my hands, ignoring the creaking.

“Look, and it rolls.”

He laughs. “Rolling is the point of the wheels.”

My hand accidentally taps the mouse, lighting up my screen, The Sixth Temple bursting into view.

“Is this your game?”

“Yeah.”

“Can I play?”

“Oh.” I jump up to let him get the chair. “Oh, yeah of course,”

“Can I play with you?” My vagina takes that in a very different way. A very sexual way that has nothing to do with the innocent role playing game.

“Uhm, yeah. Well, we can’t on this console but I have the game on my other one.” I gesture to the TV.

“Let’s do it.” He claps his hands together before spinning towards the living room. I didn’t think my flat was small until this six five giant stood in the middle of it. I’m tempted to see if he can reach both walls when he opens his arms.

“Huh,” Jackson says, picking up my decorative cushion with the crocheted words ‘Calm Your Tits’ in bright red.

My cheeks heat. “That’s my nanny’s work.

She’s always crocheting or knitting. She made me that when I moved in here.

” I gently take the cushion out of his hand, running my hands over the seams before placing it back on the sofa.

“She’s a bit slower now but but she hasn’t forgotten how to make some scandalous slogans. ”

Jackson laughs. “I can’t wait to meet her.”

I glance up at him. “You uh, you don’t have to.”

“Well”—he glances down at my midriff meaningfully—“We’re about to be family right?”

“Oh, yeah of course.” Family. Jackson and I are going to be a family.

“Have you told your parents yet?”

I quirk my brow. Tell them? I’d rather lick a brick wall than willingly pick up the phone to tell them the news. I already know how that conversation will go, and I don’t have the energy to have it yet.

“I’m thinking they’ll find out eventually.”

“Nine months from now?” Jackson says wily.

I laugh weakly, “Just about.”

“I’m probably going to tell my family soon, if that’s okay?” Jackson asks, carefully.

“Oh yeah, of course.” I nod so quickly I’m surprised my head doesn’t fall off. “You can tell whoever you like.”