Chapter 6
LORNA
“ W hat’s all this?” I step from the hall into the open-plan living area of Nic’s apartment and see that the dining table is full of food.
“Breakfast, I went out after you went back to sleep to get it. I wasn’t sure what you’d want. You said you had trouble keeping stuff down.”
“That's sweet, but I’m never going to eat all this.” There are at least five different selections of cereals, a plate stacked with pastries and I’m sure I can smell bacon cooking.
“You don’t have to eat all of it.” Nic pulls out a chair for me. “Just something.” He smiles.
I sit down, wondering if I’ve woken up in some kind of alternative universe. Seeing Nic be so…pleasant just doesn't seem right.
“I appreciate this, it’s sweet, but whatever I eat is probably going to get thrown back up again so it doesn’t really matter.” I’m surprised that, despite the nasty taste that's constantly in my mouth, the stack of pancakes that are dripping in syrup is tempting me.
“Did you make those?” I ask.
“Yes, Serena’s recipe. I messaged her to get it.”
“I do love Serena’s pancakes.” My stomach suddenly feels very empty.
“I know you do, that's why I messaged her.” He nudges the plate toward me.
“How the hell could you have known that?” I frown at him and laugh at the same time.
“Are you kidding? Every time you came over to Madalina’s for brunch I’d have to hear you make those noises while you ate them.” He stares back at me.
“I don’t know what noises you’re talking about.” I deny all knowledge as I pick up a fork and start to eat. I have to give him credit where it’s deserved, he’s done a fine job, I don’t think I can taste the difference.
“So, do you make a banquet-style breakfast for all your houseguests?” I swallow while making a conscious effort not to make any noises.
“Only the ones who are growing a baby for me, and you're not a houseguest. This is your home, now. You should treat it that way.” He moves over to the stove and flips the eggs that are on the skillet. Then checks whatever's in the pan before he stirs it.
“On a trial period,” I remind him. Reaching across for a pain au chocolat while he dutifully pours me an orange juice.
How is this even happening, right now?
“I arranged for your car to be towed from the doctor’s office, and taken to Madalina and Dario’s place. They have plenty of space to keep it there .” I suspect he purposely chose to ignore my comment.
“Yeah, about that. We have to–”
“I also drafted a letter of resignation for you to email to your boss. You might want to add some sentimental crap to it. The ‘thank you for the opportunity, I wish you all the best’ kind of bull shit. I have a habit of being too direct.” He smiles as if all his actions are perfectly normal.
“Seems that's not your only habit,” I mutter under my breath.
“Oatmeal?” He takes the pan off the gas.
“No, thank you. I’ve reached my limit.” I sit back in the chair and wait for the inevitable.
Nic shrugs, putting down the pan, then after examining my plate gives a nod of approval.
“We really do have to discuss the car situation. I need a vehicle.” I have to stand firm and hold my own on this. It’s how I usually handle things, and I don’t know how I’ve let things get so out of hand.
“Why?” Nic looks curious as he rests his ass against the kitchen worktop and drinks from his coffee mug.
“Because.” All the answers I have for him vanish, as I focus on how tight his shirt is. It clings to his biceps perfectly and the way he has his sleeves rolled up his forearms is hot too.
“Lorna?” He lowers his head.
“Because…” I quickly drag myself back to the moment. “... I have to get to college. I have errands to run and a life.”
“I can take you to college and pick you up, and if you need an errand running, I’ll have Seb do it.” He places down his mug and stretches out his neck.
“That’s not normal.” I shake my head.
“Is anything about this situation normal?” He smirks, triggering that frustration inside me that makes me want to throw something at him. Nic’s always been so cocksure of himself and despite how life-changing all this is, he’s acting as if he’s got some kind of power over me. If I didn’t know better, I’d say it was getting him off.
“What time do you have to be there?” He checks his watch after he places his empty mug in the basin.
“I don’t have a lecture until ten.” I chance a sip of juice and regret it when I feel that familiar wave of nausea roll in my stomach.
“Plenty of time to send that email to your manager at the restaurant.” He smiles as he opens up his laptop and starts to type.
“Don’t you think all this is too much too fas…” I slam my hand over my mouth and rush to the bathroom when I start to retch. Then, clinging to the edge of the toilet, I bring up my breakfast.
I feel my hair being scraped back while I wait for more to come, and I can’t be sure but it feels as though he’s tying it on top of my head. Once I’m sure I’m done, I stand back up and snatch the bottle of water with the top already off that Nic’s holding out for me. Irritatingly, it’s just what I need.
“You okay?” He at least tries to look concerned rather than amused.
“Just peachy.” I take a sip of water, rinsing out my mouth and spitting it in the basin. That’s when I notice the neat row of hair bands that are lined up on the edge of the counter beside the toilet.
“What are these for?” I stare back at him.
“Just being prepared. And only bottled water from now on, even to just rinse your mouth out. Who knows what shit they put in the stuff that comes through the faucet?”
I look in the mirror and see the untidy knot he’s made on the top of my head and, despite how overwhelming all this is, I burst out laughing
“Want to share what you're finding so funny?” Nic scowls at me.
“This.” I throw my hands up and look around the huge, luxurious bathroom I’ve thrown up in. “And look at my hair.” I start giggling again and I notice how hot he looks when he rolls his tongue around the inside of his cheek and tries not to laugh himself.
“I’ll be sure to work on my hair-handling skills,” he smirks before shaking his head and walking out the door.
“If you take a right here you’ll miss the main bulk of rush hour traffic,” I explain as we get closer to campus.
“Yes, but if we get caught by the train-crossing we could be backed up for miles.” He continues to sit and wait at the lights while I check the time on my phone. I was, of course, right. We should have left earlier, but as usual, Nic can never be told.
“So, how did Madalina react when you told her?” he asks, resting his arm on the window and sliding a finger across his bottom lip. It sends me into one of those stupid trances again, which I’m sure is Mother Nature's way of trying to convince me I like the man who’s gotten me pregnant because I’ve never looked at him this way before. Sure, I always understood why girls liked him, he’s got a certain appeal until he opens his mouth. But all of a sudden he seems to be hotter than ever and appealing to me …
“She went into labor,” I tell him, pulling down the visor and checking that my lipstick hasn’t smudged. “She was, of course, very excited that it’s me that will be providing her with a niece or nephew.” I automatically touch my hand to my tummy again and when Nic notices, the way he smiles isn’t smug or clever, it’s actually kind of sweet.
I’ve seen a very different side to him these past twenty-four hours, I guess we’ll just have to see how long he can keep it up.
“She’s going to be the best auntie.” He focuses back on the standstill traffic ahead of us.
“I think so too,” I agree, still letting it sink in that there is an actual human life growing inside me. One that is half mine and half his. It’s a good job we’ll have thirty-four weeks to get used to the idea. Thirty-four weeks to learn to tolerate and maybe even like each other. As annoying as Nic Conte can be, I want my baby to have a father, and the way he’s started to take care of me has me suspecting that he might turn out to be a good one.
He pulls up outside campus reception with just minutes to spare before my lecture starts.
“What time will you be done?” he checks as I unbuckle and pick up my satchel.
“Around two.”
“Meet you back here at two, then.” He nods.
“Haven’t you got better things to do than run me around?” I ask before he drives off.
“No,” he answers simply, before speeding off and revving his engine, just to ensure that everyone on campus sees him leave.
Prick.