Chapter Five
LILY STOOD IN the tiny bathroom at her work in Maxine’s London gallery.
She patted cool, damp hands to her overheating cheeks and took a deep breath, trying to settle another wave of roiling nausea that overtook her.
The snakes of panic slithering in her stomach.
She couldn’t hold it in any longer. Losing her meagre breakfast of crackers and water in the sink.
‘Oh God,’ she moaned as she rinsed her mouth. Cleaned the basin. Heat rising to her cheeks.
Lily looked up into the mirror, her face flushed, dark rings shadowing under her eyes. Gripping the cool porcelain as she tried to hold herself up. To hold herself together.
What was she going to do?
Her chest tightened, threatening to cut off her breath.
It had been almost eight weeks since she’d returned from her trip to Venice.
That journey so full of excitement and blistering passion.
She’d wanted to change her life, and she had.
In the first few weeks afterwards, it was like she was invincible.
Memories of one night of incomparable passion, how she’d given, but demanded things in return.
She’d wanted a rebirth and that’s exactly what she got, until …
Lily put a hand to her belly. Her periods hadn’t always been regular, and certainly not with the stress of her breakup, so she hadn’t noticed when she’d missed one.
But then the gnawing, sick feeling in her stomach had begun—her breasts tender, her tops tighter across her chest. Then the two lines on a pregnancy test.
She dropped her head and took another slow breath.
Pregnant.
The back of her nose burned with tears she craved to shed but couldn’t.
Not here at her work. In her apartment, maybe, though it was likely not to be her apartment for long.
Her landlord had just given notice of a rent increase she’d have trouble affording, especially if she had to save for a baby.
She had no-one to support her other than herself.
What if she couldn’t find a place to live?
Whilst she still had some money left over from her trust fund payment, she’d spent a significant amount of it on her trip away.
It hadn’t meant much at the time, something she needed to do.
Now it all seemed like a frivolous and self-indulgent waste when the reality of her situation hit home …
A baby. That meant setting up a nursery, time off work. Childcare when she had to return, if she still had a job to come back to.
What if Max didn’t want her back? Lily put her head in her hands. How could she admit what a shambles she’d made of her life?
She had to pull it together. She was responsible for more than herself now.
This whole thing was bigger than just her, because from the moment she’d seen the two lines on the pregnancy test she’d experienced an instant and fierce desire to protect.
As well as a vivid imagination, wondering whether the baby would have a shock of dark hair, warm brown eyes like its father …
Except, she didn’t even know who he was. She let out a hysterical laugh.
A soft knock sounded at the door.
‘Lily, you okay?’
Max. Lily wiped under her eyes. She couldn’t hide in here forever. ‘I—yes, sure. Coming,’ she called out.
Her doctor had told her morning sickness was completely normal, but hers wasn’t just restricted to the mornings.
At least she still had a few dry crackers left in her handbag.
Her stomach would settle with those and peppermint tea, which was all that seemed to keep her going at the moment. It would be fine.
Lily straightened, neatened herself up a bit then walked to her desk in the gallery proper.
She loved it here, one of the few spaces that made her feel calm and grounded.
The crisp and soothing white walls. The glorious art.
The gallery’s current exhibition bursting from the walls in vibrant colours.
An artist she’d helped Maxine find after reading an article about a new talent whose work Lily had been immediately drawn to. Happily, Max had agreed.
She was about to sit at reception again when she spied the sign on the front door flipped to Closed. Lily frowned. That wasn’t right. She went to turn it back over when Maxine walked in.
‘Come and have a tea with me out back,’ Max said.
Lily’s heart skipped a few anxious beats.
Whilst she was sure Maxine liked her, Lily never forgot that their relationship was one of employer and employee.
She knew that she hadn’t been at the top of her game recently what with her breakup, leaving for Venice and now morning sickness. Was she going to lose her job?
She couldn’t afford to. What if she had to go back to her parents? That might be her only option, but they’d made very clear the way they’d turned their backs on her that returning to the family would have a price. Obedience. Their way or the highway. They’d never accept her baby.
Her stomach heaved and saliva flooded her mouth.
Lily swallowed it down as she followed Max into the kitchenette area.
A small space with a squashy two-seater lounge, and a coffee table where they could eat lunch and have some downtime.
Maxine always said she spent so much of her life at the gallery she might as well make it comfortable.
‘You wanted to talk to me about something?’ Lily asked, a little too brightly.
Max waved her to the couch, and Lily took a seat. A cup of pale, straw-coloured tea sat on the table. Beside it were a few bland sugared biscuits on a plate.
Max took a seat next to her. Her blond hair in a flawless bob. Wearing a sharp black suit and whimsical ruffled blouse underneath. Always elegant. Always perfect. Such a contrast to how Lily felt right now—like a total disaster.
‘Have you got something to tell me?’
Lily’s stomach dropped. Not a good thing, given her morning sickness. She pressed a hand to her mouth and shut her eyes. ‘Everything’s fine.’
Max rolled her eyes. ‘Lily, I know.’
Had she been that transparent? Telling someone would make it real but holding it in wasn’t helping. It was like she was going to explode if she didn’t say anything at all. Lily shook her head.
‘Then how can you say, “Everything’s fine”?’ Max asked.
A wash of tiredness flooded over Lily. She picked up her cup of tea, sipped it. It was peppermint.
‘You’re not the first young woman to fall pregnant. You won’t be the last. How far along are you?’ Max placed her hand on Lily’s arm. Just that reassuring touch and she wanted to fall apart. Cry for a week.
‘Almost eight weeks,’ she said, sagging with relief at finally being able to admit what was going on to someone.
Max raised her eyebrows. ‘Venice?’
Lily nodded, gripping her cup of tea. It burned into her fingertips.
‘What happened?’
‘Well,’ she said, ‘when a boy and a girl like each other very much …’
Max laughed, and Lily did too, until she couldn’t hold the emotion in anymore and it turned into a sob. Max slipped an arm around Lily’s shoulder. Drew her into a hug.
‘I’m guessing because of your current predicament that you didn’t play safe. Have you had a sexual health check?’
Lily put a hand on her belly. ‘I had to have a whole lot of tests when I first found out. I’m okay. Thing is, I was on the pill, though with everything that’s happened …’
She’d forgotten to take it sometimes since her breakup, what with all the stress. But they’d used protection. Although maybe they’d woken through the night, found each other in the darkness, started making love before realising they needed to stop and …play it safe as Max had so eloquently put it.
‘Who’s the father?’
Lily swallowed. This, in many ways, was the worst admission. ‘I—I don’t know his name.’
In the days after she’d discovered her pregnancy, she’d tried contacting the ball’s organisers and had been met with a frigid wall of opposition. Without a crime being committed or police order, they couldn’t discuss the identities of the ball goers, which were fiercely protected.
Max’s eyes widened a little. ‘First, I’m going to say—go you, Lily Rutherford. Then I need you to tell me exactly what happened.’
Lily hadn’t said much to Max about the trip on her return apart from giving her profound thanks.
Then there’d been the blushing smiles, and Lily thought Max had read between the lines.
Still, her boss deserved the story. Lily gave her a shortened version.
About the ball and meeting a man who enthralled her.
Then one blissful, life-changing night in Venice.
‘Do you want to tell the father?’ Maxine asked.
Lily put her hand to her stomach again, almost by reflex.
She took another sip of the soothing tea, her nausea settling.
The events of that night ran vivid through her head, like a movie but somehow amplified.
Hyper-real. The flirtation, the passion.
How difficult it had been to leave the next morning.
Lily hadn’t imagined it. He’d clearly felt the same too.
The way, when she’d been about to walk out the door, he’d held her and kissed her as if he never wanted to let her go.
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘But the organisers …’
Max frowned. ‘They have a reputation to uphold, of anonymity to anyone who wants it.’
‘Whilst mine’s flushed down the toilet. I’m such a mess. A broken engagement and now this—’
‘Don’t ever say those things about yourself,’ Max said, squeezing Lily’s arm again. ‘If you were my daughter, I’d be proud of you. Breaking an engagement with someone who didn’t respect you, despite the pressure. Living life.’
Tears stung at Lily’s eyes, threatening to fall again.
She blinked them back. There’d been so many tears, and she was tired of them.
Until now, she hadn’t realised how lonely she’d been.
Her family’s lack of support over her broken engagement had seemed like the ultimate betrayal.
It was nice to believe that someone actually cared about her.
‘Thank you,’ Lily whispered, as one errant tear escaped and dripped down her cheek. She viciously scrubbed it away. Some of the terrible weight that she’d carried over the past weeks lifted a fraction. She made to stand. ‘I should get back to my—’
‘No.’ Max held up her hand. ‘Don’t worry about work. You still look pale. Finish your tea and biscuits. Have another one if you like. It’s a quiet day. If you’re not feeling better afterwards, take the rest of the day off. I can hold the fort. I used to do it on my own all the time, anyhow.’
Lily gave her a tremulous smile. ‘Max, I really can’t thank you enough.’
Maxine stood and pointed at Lily, waggling her finger.
‘I can see you overthinking. Your job is fine. You, are fine.’ Max smiled and grabbed something from the counter and handed it to Lily.
‘Sit and read this. It’s just come in. I know how much you love art and design magazines.
If you find anyone interesting who might need me to represent them, let me know.
I’m in the mood to sign on someone else and you have an eye for talent. ’
Maxine waved and walked out of the room leaving Lily in silence.
She relaxed back on the couch with the magazine and began flicking through, sipping her tea.
Her tiredness had seemed to ease together with her anxiety and nausea lifting a fraction.
Still, guilt gnawed in her belly that she wasn’t out there working.
Although she guessed if she found someone in the magazine whom Max might be able to represent, then she’d be doing her job in a way.
Lily immersed herself in reading. There were some great artists and designers on the pages but none who were new.
Though, if they weren’t repped in the UK, they might be looking so she made a note of their names.
Lily turned the page to a feature article, and it was as if her heart simply forgot to beat.
Her brain shorted out, like she’d stuck a fork in an electric socket. She gasped.
Staring back at her from the page was the man who’d haunted her dreams at night. He was leaning forwards for the shot, forearms resting on his knees, hands clasped in front—those large, magical hands that had coaxed the very best from her body. The passion. The pleasure.
He didn’t look as brooding and intense in this photograph. There was a smile on his face that speared straight through her. His expressive brown eyes crinkled at the corners, his strong nose, angular jaw, thick dark hair—hair she’d plunged her fingers into and gripped.
She clutched at the magazine like it was some lifeline, crushing the glossy pages in her tight grip. It was an article about his work, and some of his ‘private passions’. The headline standing out in stark black-and-white.
No Nepo Baby: Rocco Silvestri’s Unapologetic Design DNA
She’d found her baby’s father.