Page 16 of Pretty Little Disaster

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 tome…

“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 andhalf 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.

NIC

“Where the fuck are you? I got the Lombardi brothers waiting on you at the club.” Dario sounds pissed.

“I’m just on my way, waiting in traffic,” I lie while looking over the lifestyle section in the quaint, little bookstore I’m at. I admire the building every time I drive past it and often wonder what it might be like to be the person who can sit on a snug-looking Chesterfield, flipping through the pages of a book without a care in the world. I’ve never been a fan of the written word, so up till now I’ve never had a reason to pay this place a visit. But today, it seems, I do.

“Just hurry up and get there, they’re already on edge about the way Jacopo Ciccone treated their uncle, they need to be assured that we’ve got things under control,” Dario tells me.

“I’m on it, don’t worry.” I hang up the phone and notice the woman behind the counter looks shocked when I dump the huge pile of books I’ve gathered in front of her.

“Morning sir,” she smiles politely, starting to scan each of their barcodes.

“Morning.” I check my surroundings cautiously, though I doubt I’d see anyone I know in a place like this.

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