Chapter 20
CHAPTER TWENTY
TWO MONTHS LATER
Sadie
“ A nd now the big question: do you want to find out the sex of your baby?” the technician asks us.
Leo and I have been holding hands and busily welling up together at the image on the screen. It’s starting to look like an actual baby, with a little button nose and fingers and feet. I haven’t felt any kicks yet, but I comfort myself with the knowledge that I’m only eighteen weeks pregnant, and the tech has confirmed everything is all fine. And the fast whomp-whomp of the heartbeat is reassuring as fuck. I wish I could have one of those machines at home, so I can strap it on any time I feel nervous. Is it too late to retrain as an ultrasound technician?
“Yes,” Leo says, wiping his eyes openly, at the exact same time that I say, “No!”
We look at each other and laugh.
“If the knowledge is available, I want to know,” he protests. “It’d eat me up, knowing it could be written down somewhere on a piece of paper I can’t see!”
I lay back, shaking my head. “This is one of life’s only big surprises. Let’s keep it that way.”
He smiles as he grumbles like a kid denied a treat. “And I won’t be able to keep it a secret if she tells me and not you… Agghhhhh, fine! ”
I clap my hands happily. As fun as it would be to know one way or the other, and as much as I’m sure it helps the bonding process, I want the whole ‘it’s a boy’ or ‘it’s a girl’ moment, even if I’ll be too exhausted and raw to fully enjoy it.
The technician chuckles, and hands me some paper towels to wipe the gel off my stomach. I’ve got the beginnings of a bump, and I can’t do up the top button of my jeans anymore, but the same can be said when I overdo it on pizza and have a food baby. I wish it was more of a definite mama-to-be belly and less ambiguous. “Well, the important thing is a healthy pregnancy, and you’ve certainly had one of those so far. Everything looks great.”
Leo kisses my cheek. “You’re a champ, Pumpkin.” He’s always Team Me, but the pride in his voice, like he’s watching me scale Everest, is doing funny and lovely things to my insides. Then he kisses my stomach, and I melt like butter in a skillet. “You, too, kiddo. Great job in there. Keep at it. Oh, and if you could work it so that you have Mummy’s eyes, that’d be swell.” He smiles, running a finger from between my ribs to my belly button. “Get it? Swell. ”
I sigh tolerantly, and the technician rolls her eyes. “Never heard that joke before, not even once,” she deadpans.
Leo laughs. “I’ll come up with something better for next time.”
I look at him thoughtfully as we leave, still holding hands. He immediately reaches for my hand if I’m in his immediate vicinity, whether out and about or at work or at either of our homes, and I can’t deny that I love it. He still wants me to move in with him, and to be honest, I’m struggling to think of any reason not to anymore. He’s seen me throw up before, so the morning sickness is not gonna be a gross-out issue for him. For god’s sake, any time it’s happened while he’s been around, he’s held my hair back, given me a towel for my sweaty face and a glass of water to rinse my mouth out, and insisted that I’m beautiful and no amount of chundering can convince him otherwise. Cute, but I’m still beyond relieved that the nausea has died right back.
And he sure is a gorgeous sight when he steps out of the shower, water droplets running over that hard, inked up body like little caresses. How could anyone not want that to be something they see every day, if that was on offer? We spend all our outside time together anyway. And Gary loves him.
Gary’s not the only one.
“I have one condition,” he says to me, and I wonder if I said everything I’ve been thinking out loud.
“For?”
“For not finding out the sex of the baby.” He gives me a cheeky grin. “If it’s a boy, you name him. But if it’s a girl… I name her .”
“Deal,” I say without hesitating. I have a boy’s name in mind, but I can’t settle on anything for a daughter.
Judging by the huge beam on his face, Leo can.
“But I get to veto anything terrible,” I insist.
He twists his mouth. “Define ‘terrible’.”
“Leopoldina, Leopoldetta, Leop - ”
He laughs, cutting me off with a kiss. His mouth is always so soft and warm, and I don’t know if pregnancy is making me more sentimental and gooey, but it has me damn near swooning, the way he’s so gentle and content. “Would I do such a thing,” he teases me, his lips brushing mine as he talks, and I sigh happily as he runs his hand affectionately over my abdomen.
“Yes.”
He laughs. “It won’t begin with L.”
I raise my eyebrows, surprised, and study his face further. I was right. “You’ve already picked it,” I say. It’s not a question. I can read him like a book, and his grin says it all. “What is it?”
“It’s…not Leopoldetta,” he snorts, before kissing my fingers one at a time. And no matter how much I plead and cajole, he won’t give me anything even approaching a hint.
Click greets me exuberantly when we get back to the parlour, doing the adorable little hoppity hop thing he does because jumping up on three legs isn’t easy for the little dude. Dean clicks his fingers to get his attention so that he stops, because everyone is very conscious of keeping my teeny baby bump safe, and when the fluffball looks towards the sound, he obeys immediately, sitting in front of Dean’s feet and waiting intently for further instructions.
Good boy, Dean signs to him, tenderly ruffling his ears, and Click wags his tail so hard at being praised that his bum goes from side to side like a pendulum. It’s so adorable.
“He’s OK,” I tell Dean, “he wasn’t doing me any harm.”
Yeah, but I was worried he’d jump on your stomach and the baby would go - he points his fingertip rapidly in several directions - like a pinball machine.
I laugh, and Leo gets down on the floor with Click, rolling around with him like a kid. “He wouldn’t do that, because he’s the bestest boy ever, isn’t he? Arntcha, boy?” Leo coos as he roughhouses. Click makes cute woofy noises, and I can’t help beaming all over my face at the scene. Now that I’ve opened up to Leo, everything he does just makes me smile.
Dean rolls his eyes expressively, and turns back to me. How did it go?
“All A-OK. The baby is a good size, the heartbeat was strong - ”
“Oh, dude .” Leo pauses with the puppy play to place his hand on his chest as he lies on the floor and gives Dean a soft look, his eyes crinkling with it. “That sound…it’s all I can hear. It just slayed me.”
Dean grins. Congratulations, papa. He looks at me again. Did you find out if it’s a boy or a girl?
“Nope,” I reply, laughing at the twin looks of exaggerated frustration on his and Leo’s faces. They don’t look very much alike, just every now and again in certain expressions; the way their eyes crease when something is funny, or their comic grimaces when they’re denied something they want.
“I know, man,” Leo says to him, “but it’s cool. We’ll have a wow moment at delivery, and then the kid will be wrapped up in love, whatever their gender identity ends up being.”
Damn straight. Dean nods. But I still can’t believe you managed to resist finding out. That’s way more willpower than I’d have in the same circumstances. He says it nonchalantly, but I find myself wondering if he and Liaden will choose to have children in the future. They’d be the most ridiculously cool kids in existence, with Dean’s easy going charm and Liaden’s… Liadenity .
The front door opens, and Emily and Eli come in from lunch. Em’s eyes light up, and she makes grabby hands. “Gimmegimmegimme!”
I love her so much for still being so enthusiastic despite her mental allergy to parenthood. It’s so reassuring, and makes it clear that she’s not going to drift away once I’ve podded. I reach in my back pocket for the latest ultrasound photo, and everyone crowds around to have a good look. Even Click gets shown the picture after he makes some soft noises asking to be included, and we all melt when his tail wags.
“I love that this little one has a ready made fan club,” Em says, and Eli kisses the top of her head.
I get a little teary yet again. It keeps happening over the silliest things. “Yeah, I mean… Fuck, I couldn’t ask for a better family for my baby than you guys.”
“Damn straight,” Eli rumbles, slinging a comforting arm around me. “That baby is one of us.” He slings his other arm around Leo and grins. “I call godfather,” he says quickly, and Dean laughs.
Bastard, I was gonna call that!
Eli laughs. “You were quicker off the mark calling best man for me that time.”
Dean shrugs. I call favourite uncle.
Eli’s eyes narrow. “Oh, it’s on.”
My afternoon client is pleasant enough. She’s after several small tattoos at once, and they’re all the sort I could do in my sleep. Nothing to stretch me creatively, but easy money, and I’m all about the undemanding life these days.
I’m about halfway through her infinity symbol on her wrist when I start to hear people talking out front. I can’t make out what’s being said, but the tone of the voices is serious, maybe even concerned.
I’m just about to go and investigate when Em taps on my door and pokes her head through. She offers a small, apologetic smile to my client, and then turns to me. “So sorry to interrupt, but there’s someone to see you in reception.” She looks sorry for me, and it makes my stomach dip. “It’s OK,” she whispers to me, “but if you don’t want to deal with it, Leo will.”
I march right out of there, and then stop dead when I see Leo hugging a woman who appears to be quietly crying. She’s wearing a familiar beige anorak, and I have to peer around them to see any more of her, but I’d know that grey streaked auburn hair anywhere.
“Mum?”
She breaks away from Leo immediately, hurriedly wiping her eyes and searching her pockets for one of the cotton handkerchiefs she always carries. She used to embroider our initials in the corner and give them to us all as stocking fillers at Christmas, but I can’t see any of the telltale purple thread on the white cotton square she uses.
There’s a suitcase next to her, the oldest one she has. It’s beaten up brown leather with frayed buckle closings. Edges of clothes are poking out, like she packed in a hurry. That’s not like my Mum. When we went on family holidays when I was a child, this very same suitcase, and others like it, were so neatly and efficiently packed. I remember she had all sorts of space saving hacks, like rolling up underwear in our shoes. I still do that to this day.
“Sadie,” she says in a broken croak, dragging a deep breath in. “I’ve…” Her face wobbles, but she hangs on tight to what’s left of her composure. Maybe for my sake. “I’ve left your father.”
The words seem to shock her, and she sits on the sofa like her legs just won’t hold her up anymore.
I look at her for ages, and she seems to be bracing herself for my reaction. That makes me feel really shitty. I’ve always been hot tempered, but I never thought my own mother would be scared of what I thought of anything she had to tell me. Especially when she’s at her most vulnerable.
“That’s fantastic,” I tell her sincerely, reaching forward to take both her hands. She breaks down as I squeeze them, so I scoop her into a hug, my own tears beginning to fall freely. “I’m so sorry about what I said before, I didn’t mean any of it…”
I look down at her hands, and where her coat sleeve has ridden up slightly, I see a red mark. Like the sort a rough hand would leave if it grabbed her too tight. She squirms.
“What did that bastard do to you?” I ask in a dull voice. I’m going to kill him.
“He didn’t want me to leave,” she whispers. Raking a shaky hand through her hair, she sighs. “You were right. Everything you said to me was right. And I can’t believe I let it go so far. I just thought…growing older…personality traits are magnified, and he’s always been… particular . But lately…It’s been so much worse. And he’s so very hard on you and your brothers, and I’m so sorry for everything I failed to do, I was a coward …” She looks defeated, and she should feel anything but.
“Listen to me,” I say in a clear but wobbly voice. “You got out. You did the right thing. He’s been treating you horribly for years, but you seemed to just accept it, so I thought…” It strikes me that finishing that sentence isn’t helpful, so I squeeze both her hands again. “You took a stand. And you know we’ll look after you. Me, Tim, Jacob… You’ll be fine, I promise.”
She stares at the ground, lost in memories. “Today was the first time he put his hands on me,” she mumbles, “and it was like a light went on in my head. All those years…getting more and more nit-picky, and cruel. He’d say such spiteful things, and…and…” She puts her head in her hands. “I didn’t think this through. I just wanted to get out of there, but…I should have thought this through more. I have nowhere to go.” Fresh tears spill out as the reality of her situation seems to dawn on her. “I have nowhere to go…”
“I can find you a place,” Leo says immediately, walking closer and taking one of her hands from me. “You’ll have a place to stay while you figure out next steps, I promise.”
I look and look at him, and it all just clicks into place in my head like never before. There’s an obvious solution to Mum’s housing predicament, and maybe this is why it took me so long to agree to moving in with Leo: because it was meant to happen this way.
I’m a bit more accepting of the idea of fate these days.
“You can have my flat,” I say. Leo’s eyes flick to mine, and a slow smile spreads all over his face as he takes in the implications of what I just said. “I’m moving in with Leo. You take my place. It’s got everything you’ll need. I can talk to the letting company and sort it.”
Mum slumps as though the weight of the relief is too much for her. “Are you sure?”
“Positive.” If I’d moved in with Leo before, when I arguably should have, my flat would have been rented out to someone else by now, and not available for Mum in her hour of need. This way is so much better.
“How much is the rent? I don’t have much…I’ll need a job…” She bites her lip.
“Don’t you worry about a thing,” Leo cuts in firmly. “You’re covered.”
I raise my eyebrows. “Don’t tell me you own my flat, too?”
“Nope,” he says easily, “but I have more than enough money to help out, and what better way to use it?”
I stare at him, astonished at the depths of this man’s generosity. Without any hesitation, he’s offered to support my mother, who barely said more than a handful of timid words to him before today. Just because she needs it.
And also, I know in my heart, to make me happy. To make my life easier by taking a big worry off my plate.
And I also know he’d have done this for me whether I was his girlfriend or not, whether I was carrying his child or not. If this had happened last year when I was still with Peter, he’d have stepped up then in just the same way and done whatever needed doing to keep Mum safely housed.
I have no idea what I did, in this life or a past one, to deserve this man’s ready and unconditional love. No idea whatsoever. But I am determined to make sure he never regrets giving it to me.
I just need to figure out the best way to do that.