“I’m pregnant, Mum. I’m going to have a baby.”
There was a heavy silence. Mrs. Lintort blinked several times, but that was the extent of her reaction.
“I see. And . . . Luka is the father?”
Sarah blushed and fidgeted, so I held her hand tighter.
“Yes,” I said calmly, even though my heart was racing.
“Well, that’s certainly exciting news. Congratulations, darling.”
She held out her arms, and Sarah ran to her, falling into her mother’s embrace. For a moment, I thought everything would be fine, but then I met Mrs. Lintort’s cold gaze over Sarah’s shoulder. No, the woman wasn’t pleased.
I glanced at Seth and caught his unhappy expression. It knifed through me along with the certainty that I couldn’t face him across the table like this at every family celebration for the rest of my life. The pain was too unbearable.
Finally, Sarah shuffled back to the couch and started chattering happily about due dates and her plans—our plans. Not that we’d really discussed any.
Mrs. Lintort took a tiny bite of her sandwich, chewed slowly, then took a sip of her tea, barely glancing at me, as she smiled at Sarah.
“Do you have any plans to marry?” she asked.
Sarah winced.
“To be honest, we haven’t had a chance to talk about it.” She laughed nervously. “I only told Luka a few days ago, so . . .”
She looked at me with desperation in her tight expression, and I felt the eerie spotlight of her mother’s gaze turn in my direction. I started to sweat.
“It’s very new,” I said uncomfortably.
The words hung in the air, discordant and ugly.
Eventually, Mrs. Lintort gave me a polite smile and turned her attention back to her daughter.
Her opinion of me was complete: I was a low-life piece of shit who’d knocked up her only daughter and didn’t even have the decency to offer to marry her.
It summed up what I thought of myself, too.
My body vibrated with suffocating panic at the thought of being married to Sarah for the rest of my life. We were friends, good friends, but that was all. And I wasn’t even sure what we were now.
Thank God Mrs. Lintort didn’t know who’d been warming her son’s bed for the last three months.
Seth and I sat silently, watching the women set our futures in stone. Separate. Apart.
I had nothing to add and little to say. I ate, and I drank tea. Earl Grey. Horrible, fucking perfumed shit.
It was an hour later before Mrs. Lintort caught me alone. Sarah and Seth had gone to look at something in one of the other rooms. I wasn’t invited.
Mrs. Lintort placed her teacup on the table, her sharp gaze fixed on me.
And she completely blindsided me.
“It seems both my children are in love with you. Although I’m finding it hard to see the appeal beyond a pretty face.”
I was shocked to my core. She paused, waiting to see if I’d reply. My lungs refused to work. How did she know? What had she seen? No words had passed between me and Seth, hardly a glance.
She cocked her head to one side, amused by my shock.
“Oh, please! Do you think I don’t know my own children? I know perfectly well that Seth has been seeing someone for the last couple of months. A friend of Sarah’s? A dancer? What a coincidence.”
I had no words, no defense.
“So you get my daughter pregnant, then decide that her brother-the-banker is a better bet. Is that it?”
“No! I . . .”
“Are you and Seth still . . . together?”
“No. We couldn’t since . . . this was never planned . . .”
“I take it Sarah doesn’t know . . . about you and my son?”
I shook my head.
“Good. Let’s keep it that way. Do you intend to marry Sarah?”
A strangled breath was all I could manage. I was shamed by the way she looked at me, the way she talked to me. I was still trying to get my head around the fact that she knew everything. And God, it sounded so sordid. But what I’d shared with Seth was beautiful.
Was.
“I see,” she said calmly. “For a moment I hoped that you might surprise us. How foolish of me. I really don’t think there’s a single word that you can say that will make a shred of difference.”
I was silent. She was right. And I hated that.
“Well,” she said with another tight smile, “I see we can agree on something.”
Her mother was right about me—I was a waste of breath. And if Sarah had any sense, she’d leave me far, far behind.
Seth and Sarah walked back into the room, and Sarah’s happy smile disappeared when she saw us.
“What’s going on?”
“Just getting to know your young man,” Mrs. Lintort said smoothly.
“Oh, okay?”
I’d had enough. I was sick of pretending, sick of hiding. Sick of sitting in this room feeling like a piece of shit.
I stood up.
“I have to go now. I have to be at the theater soon.”
“But . . . it’s early,” Sarah said questioningly.
“Understudy call and blocking rehearsal with a new singer,” I lied.
Seth caught on faster, and I saw his pained expression as his eyes flickered to his mother.
“Can I give you two a lift?” he asked, raising his eyebrows at his sister.
“You guys stay and visit with your mom. I’ll catch a cab.”
“Not around here, you won’t,” Sarah argued.
God, just let me go.
“I’m sure Luka will be fine,” said Mrs. Lintort.
Sarah narrowed her eyes. “Right, I think we should all go.”
“Oh, I was going to talk to you about baby names.”
“We can do that another time,” Sarah said sharply. “Luka says he has to go and he doesn’t know his way around this part of London.”
Mrs. Lintort gave a silvery laugh.
“I thought all you young people used your phones for that these days.”
“We’d better head out, Mum,” said Seth. “I’ll pick you up on Sunday for church, as usual.”
Mrs. Lintort had lost the battle, but she was winning the war.
“So nice to meet you, Luka,” she said, shaking my hand.
“Thank you . . . for tea.”
I waited outside while they said goodbye to their mother, fishing a squashed cigarette out of my pocket and smoking it furiously. It gave me a brief moment of calm before Sarah followed me outside and wrinkled her nose.
“Ugh, I thought you’d stopped smoking.”
I ignored her, sucking every last milligram of nicotine out of my smoke.
Seth took longer to leave, and I wondered what Mrs. Lintort was saying to him.
When he walked outside, his lips were pressed together in a thin line and he looked pissed as hell. Sarah didn’t notice because she was still frowning at me.
We all climbed into the car and Seth pulled away from the curb.
“What did she say to you?” Sarah asked.
What could I tell her? Your mother hates me, and she’s right. She’s also a first-class, sanctimonious bitch.
“Luka?”
Her worried gaze was turned on me and I could see Seth glancing from the rearview mirror. I tried to think of something, to look calm, to hold back the storm that was raging inside me.
“Nothing.”
“Luka!”
Seth’s quiet voice sounded strained. “Sarah, I don’t think now is the time to . . .”
“It’s got nothing to do with you, Seth!”
She said I’m not good enough. And she’s right.
“Nothing I didn’t already know!” I yelled, screwing my eyes shut.
“Oh God, just tell me . . .”
“Stop the car.”
“What?” asked Seth.
“Stop the fucking car!”
He pulled over to the curb and I yanked the door
open.
“Where are you going?”
I didn’t answer, slamming the door behind me in a futile fit of impotent fury.
It took me nearly two hours to find my way back to central London, and that gave me time to think about everything that had happened.
I wasn’t sure what was going on with me and Sarah. I guess we were going to see if a relationship would work for us, so we could take care of our child. If not, we’d find another way.
And I couldn’t help wondering what our child would look like. Blonde and blue-eyed probably, as we were both coded that way genetically. Maybe a dancer? But maybe not. It was scary as hell, but kind of exciting, too. And I could think of a future spiraling into years and decades, not just the next few months.
But first, I had to stop loving Seth.
There are so many books on love, but none of them can tell you why it happens or how to turn it off. The magic happens in your brain and in your body, and no one can explain it. I hated feeling like this. Love made you soar, made you fly and set you free—and then it let you freefall until you were smashed and bleeding on the ground.
I was Icarus and Seth was my sun—I’d flown too close.
And he was waiting for me outside the theater, his face drawn, his expression severe.
“Let’s go for a drink,” he said.
I followed him to a nearby pub where a large TV was blasting out live coverage of a soccer game.
We found a space in the corner and sat with bottles of German beer.
“I’m sorry how Mum was with you,” he began tentatively. “I don’t know what she said exactly, but I can guess. And if it helps, she’s wrong.”
I shrugged. “You know she knows . . . about us, about you and me?”
“I have no idea how she found out. I never told her.”
“We dated for nearly three months,” I said flatly.
His cheeks heated.
“She’s not delighted that her son is gay. It was a shock for her. I don’t like to flaunt it, you know? She knew I was seeing someone, and I must have told her that you were a friend of Sarah’s. She worked out the rest for herself.”
“We have to tell Sarah.”
He threw me a horrified look.
“Fuck, no! Why would you do that?”
“Because she’s going to find out! And then she’ll be pissed at all of us. We did nothing wrong, falling in . . . we didn’t do anything wrong. But keeping it from her—that’s wrong.”
He shook his head. “I can’t do that to her. And if you care about her at all, you won’t either.”
“But . . .”
“I mean it, Luka. She’s really vulnerable right now. She’s been carrying around this huge secret: she’s had to tell you you’re going to be a father; she’s had to tell our mother to get ready to start knitting baby clothes. Don’t you think that’s enough?”
“Yes, she was carrying a huge secret! Are you so blind? That’s what we’re doing. It’s not right.”
“I know my sister better than you do. She won’t take it well.”
“Jesus! Of course she won’t! But it’s going to be a thousand times worse if she finds out by accident. We went for drinks with some of the cast last night—she nearly found out then, for fuck’s sake!”
He grabbed my hand, holding on tight.
“Luka, if you ever felt anything for me at all, I’m begging you: don’t tell Sarah.”
I yanked my hand free. “What are you so afraid of?”
His head hung down and I could see tears on his cheeks.
“That she’ll hate me.”
“For what?”
“Taking you from her.”
“Seth, I was never hers. And no one can ‘take’ me. I can only give myself. And I gave myself to you.”
“She won’t see it like that.”
“You’re describing a woman I don’t recognize. I already told her that I was seeing someone while she was in Australia, and that it was serious.”
“You did?”
“Of course I did!”
“How did she take it?”
“She wasn’t happy, but . . .”
“That’s my point!”
“She got over it, Seth.”
He started to get angry, his voice low and hard.
“You don’t think she’ll find it weird that you’ve slept with both of us? Because I’ve got to say, Luka, I really struggle knowing that. It freaks me out on a regular basis. I don’t understand how you could do it—men and women. It’s pretty disgusting.”
At that moment, I’d never felt further away from him.
His face fell. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.”
“I think you did. It’s probably the most honest thing you’ve said to me since we found out. Well, fuck you, Seth! If I’m so fucking disgusting!”
“I’m sorry.”
I slammed the bottle of beer on the table, froth pouring over the top, and stood up.
“Are you going to tell her?”
I ground the heels of my hands into my eye sockets, trying to relieve the tension of a building headache.
“No.”
“Thank you.”
“Fuck you.”
I debated whether or not to go back to Sarah’s after the show that night. Part of me wanted a rest from the uncontrolled emotions and drama, but I knew delaying it any longer wouldn’t help. Plus, there were a dozen missed calls and texts from her on my phone.
“So, what’s the scoop on that blonde you were with last night?” Ben asked. “You really her baby daddy.”
“That’s what she tells me.”
“How does that work? You date her but screw guys?”
I threw him an angry look and he held up his hands, taking a pace back.
“I’m not trying to be a dickhead.”
“It’s . . . complicated.”
He gave a dry laugh. “You should have stuck to dudes, mate. Much easier.”
I had to smile at the irony.
I texted Sarah that I was on my way, giving her a chance to tell me not to bother, but she didn’t.
She was waiting for me on the couch. I knew she’d been crying because her eyes were red, but she seemed calm now.
“I talked to Mum,” she began before I sat down. “I know she can be . . . but she didn’t mean it. She’s sorry you were upset.”
I doubt that. But I kept the thought to myself.
“We need to talk about how this is going to work,” I said carefully.
She sighed and looked down. “I know. I haven’t been very fair to you. I haven’t even thought how you must be feeling, what with breaking up with that guy, and me dumping all this on you.” Then she reached out to hold my hand. “But you’re my friend, Luka. You can tell me anything.”
I cleared my throat.
“It was a shock, about the baby.”
“I’m sorry.”
“That’s not . . . I keep thinking what will he or she be like. Do you think they’ll be a dancer?”
She laughed happily. “Good odds, I’d say. But maybe she’ll get brains like her Uncle Seth. Or maybe she’ll debate like a barrister, like her grandmother.”
I withheld a wince. Twice.
“It could be a boy and play soccer.”
“Ooh, home games at Tottenham Hotspur—not hating that!”
I smiled.
“But I’ve been thinking about us, as well.”
She frowned, her eyes darting around anxiously. “Okay?”
“Maybe I could . . . take you on a date? See how it goes?”
Her smile returned. “That would be great! We did kinda just skip to the getting shitfaced and having sex bit.”
“I’ll find somewhere else to live, too.”
Her smile fell immediately. “Why?”
I ran my hands through my hair, feeling the gluey tug of gel that I hadn’t washed out.
“It would be easier.”
“Easier how exactly? Bloody hell, Luka, we’re g
oing to be parents in six months. We should be sharing this.”
“We will.” Somehow. “But I think we should take things slowly.”
“Slowly?” She pulled herself off the couch, staring at me. “If that’s what you need, Luka. But you don’t have to move out. Take the couch. It doesn’t bother me.”
That could have gone better.
She turned around suddenly.
“Why don’t you call me ‘booch-ka’ anymore?”
I frowned. “I do.”
“No, you don’t. Not since the first day I was back from Australia.”
Was she right? I wasn’t sure.
She gave me a penetrating look, then went to bed. The silence was a relief.
WE WERE TRYING. We were both trying. Sarah was trying not to push, although I knew she felt anxious about where things were going and what would happen when the baby was born. I was trying not to fuck up again.
For the last month, we’d gone on some dates, talked, found the rhythm of being friends again.
She wasn’t happy that I’d be away next year touring with Slave, but she was fair enough to know that’s how I earned my living. If she hadn’t gotten knocked up, she’d have been with me. It bugged her, I knew that much. We talked about her joining me on the tour when the baby was a bit older.
And we still hadn’t slept together, although she wanted to. I felt like I’d be cheating on Seth, even though I hadn’t seen him and he hadn’t replied to the couple of texts I’d sent. I knew Sarah talked to him, but she didn’t suspect anything. I still wanted to tell her, but the further away it was, the less point there seemed to be.
Today, I was playing the role of adoring boyfriend to a group of Sarah’s friends from high school while she enjoyed every second of it.
I wish it didn’t feel like acting all of the time. I wanted it to be real.
Sometimes it felt like it could work. Like when I went with her to doctor appointments, and we looked at baby clothes together. I couldn’t believe how small some of those things were—they were seriously cute.
Sarah was petite, but I’m kind of big for a dancer. The doctor didn’t want to guess on which way things would go, but I could see her looking at me and then frowning at Sarah’s small frame. Sarah pretended she wasn’t fazed, and made a joke about shitting a watermelon, but I could see that she was bothered.
One of her biggest problems was that she was bored. Like me, she was used to working all the time, or taking dance workshops and going to auditions. She still did a couple of easy classes a week, but it left her with a lot of free time on her hands.