Page 89 of Into the Dark

She nods slowly, lifts the glass to her mouth, and swallows. “Hmph. I mean, it’s almost like the universe wanted you to get pregnant.” She smiles, eyes glittering with mischief.

I roll my eyes. “Ah, well, if only I could blame the pesky universe. But no, just me being an idiot and having unprotected sex with a man who must frankly be the most fertile man on the planet. I mean, come on?” I say, and she snorts out a laugh, covering her mouth with her hand. As I follow her through to the lounge and take a seat next to her on the sofa I let out another sigh. “I just wish the timing weren’t so awful. Everything would be fine if not for the timing.”

She reaches across and places a comforting squeeze on my shoulder. “The best things happen unexpectedly, babe.” She smiles.

And isn’t that the truth? Jake was unexpected, and he’s the best thing to ever happen to me. Having his baby will only be an extension of that. It can’t be anything else.

Although, Rob’s warning about how Jake will feel finding out I kept this from him still lingers. The simple act of having spoken it out loud and acknowledging it has caused the weight to ease off a little. I can definitely breathe a little easier. It’s one of Rob’s gifts, actually. She’s always helped me to carry things when they get a little too heavy for me to manage on my own. I really am lucky to have her.

It makes me wonder who Jake speaks to whenever he needs to share something. And Jake has surely carried very many heavy things throughout his life. Who does he turn to for help? Fred? Surely not Kevin. Does he have anyone he can talk to? Am I now his only confidant? It makes me sad to think of him alone.

“So…” she says, sipping from the rustic-looking tall glass with a blue rim. Christ, it looks so appealing. Only seven months to go, Alex. “Any other massive news to share? Anything else happen I should know about? Did you run off and join the circus or anything?”

“Hmm, well…” I ponder, thinking hard. “Jake and I had anal last night. Not sure if that counts as massive or not.”

The wine lands in a delicate spray on my face as she spits it out in shock. It tastes crisp and sweet and cold as I wipe it away with the back of my hand. God, I really will miss you, wine.

“Okay, that’s it! I am never leaving the bloody country again!” she exclaims as I burst into a fit of embarrassed giggles.

The park is a good idea. Large and busy and with easy means of escape if I need to run. Which is ridiculous, of course.

Jake suggested it because he said it might be easier to introduce us if we’re in neutral territory and on neutral ground, and because Caleb loves the park. It’s a lovely day for it too. So we agreed to meet by the pond near the gazebo. He came straight here after picking Caleb up from his mother’s, and I’m arriving a bit later with the picnic.

And it’s a proper picnic, an assortment of wrapped food inside an actual wicker basket with a blanket on top. I’ve packed fruit and sandwiches and some kids drinks and yogurts Caleb will probably be allergic to. Why didn’t I ask Jake what he was allergic to? I’ll need to know that going forward. I’m certain he would have told me if anything might harm him, and since I haven’t brought any Brussels sprouts, hopefully it will all work out okay.

The park is busy. Mainly because it’s sunny and warm, but doubly so because it’s Saturday afternoon and most Londoners don’t have gardens. I park the car a few streets over—not too far away, but the weight of the basket and the heat from the sun has me panting soon enough. On the upside, though, it takes my mind off the anxiety rattling in my bones.

London smells nice in summer. In a different way from how France smells, but nice still. Especially in parks and at home in Shere, where the lack of traffic means the scent of flowers and trees permeates the air deliciously. Jake suggested I take the east entrance into the park, closer to where the gazebo is, and walk for five minutes around the edge before following the signs for the pond. I’ve been to Hyde Park lots of times, but it’s huge and sprawling, and I always lose my bearings under the trees. Since Jake clearly knows it well, I follow his directions to the letter, and after a short walk I reach the duck pond.

The pond itself is heaving with ducks and swans and those little pedal boats people like to peddle around in pointless circles. I stop and look around the circumference of the large oval pond, halting my gaze on any adult and their accompanying child. He would be on this side, I imagine, near to where the trees open up and the eastern path leads up to it.

It takes me a few minutes to spot them, but when I do I stop short on the spot, immobile as I take in the sight. Jake, dressed in a navy T-shirt, light blue shorts, and blue sneakers, with clear-rimmed Ray Bans hiding his eyes, attempts to tackle a ball from Caleb, who tries some fancy foot trick to turn the ball away from Jake and succeeds. Caleb is dressed very similarly, but in a white T-shirt and a baseball cap, both with the colorful Superman logo emblazoned across them.

I’m smiling hard as I watch the scene play out from a small distance away. Despite Caleb’s fancy footwork, Jake towers over his little form and could easily steal the ball with a quick flick of his foot. However, Jake pretends to be unable to tackle the football from Caleb for a few minutes more before turning one way and then the next and dropping to the ground. As he pretends to be hurt from Caleb’s tackle, holding his knee and pressing his head into the grass, Caleb jumps on him, hitting his tiny fist playfully off his back.

Jake plays injured for a few seconds more before he lifts his head and roars at him, sticking his fists up in a fake boxing stance, which causes Caleb to erupt into a fit of giggles. Watching them together makes me feel all sorts of things. Love and pride, admiration and wonderment. It makes me think about the child I have growing inside me, and it confirms exactly what kind of father he’ll be.

He has a broken relationship with Caleb’s mother, but it hasn’t lessened his need to love and cherish his child. When I do finally tell him about it, I know he won’t be scared and afraid because he already knows how to be a good father. In fact, I’ll need him to show me how to be a good mother.

Grazing my hand over the small, still unnoticeable bump hidden under my yellow summer dress, I move toward them. Rob was right: Jake is going to notice soon. He stares at me too hard when I’m naked, and he’s spent a lot of time between my legs. So what am I waiting for? His response is only going to be negative if he finds out I waited so long to tell him. Jake is a literal, direct person in most things; he won’t understand my holding this back. And, actually, the more I think about it, the less I understand it myself. What exactly am I waiting for? Do I really expect he’ll announce any day now that his life is now untangled and burden-free? After I see the doctor I can decide how to tell him. That seems as sensible an approach as any other.

As I get closer, I brush a hand through my hair, nerves and tension vibrating under my skin. I’ve narrowed the root of my nerves down to two things. First, I’m nervous in case Jake sees something in how I interact with Caleb that he doesn’t like and that makes him look at me differently. Second, I’m scared Caleb will dislike me so intensely it somehow slowly starts to niggle away at Jake’s own feelings for me. I’m not sure if any of these fears are normal or if it’s just ridiculous levels of paranoia and overanalysis, which would be just like me.

Jake spots me first, his boxing stance dispersing as he smiles brightly and stands up from the grass, brushing a hand down over his knees, his eyes not leaving mine. As Caleb turns to see what just stole his dad’s attention, I get my first full, proper look at Jake’s son. It makes my heart pinch slightly. He’s beautiful. Blonde-haired with large, curious blue eyes and a full mouth like his father. He pulls his little shoulders back and gives me the once-over as he moves a step closer to his dad. Jake slides an arm around his shoulders before ruffling a hand playfully through his hair.

When I’m a few feet away from them I lift my hand up in a small half-wave. “Hi!” I smile at Jake first and then drop my eyes to Caleb.

“Hey, you made it,” Jake replies softly. I want to kiss him, but because Caleb is looking up at me with wide eyes that are clearly unsure of my presence, I decide against it. I’ll let Jake make the first move in that regard. “Buddy, this is who I was telling you about.” He looks down at Caleb. “This is Alex.”

“Hi, Caleb. It’s nice to meet you.”

He says nothing in response, and he doesn’t return my smile. He just stares at me hard, wariness etched across his eyes. From here his eyes look a bright, brilliant blue, with no sea-green in them like Jake’s. But he definitely has Jake’s mouth and frown, and the nose slopes at the same straight angle.

“Alex is a boys’ name,” Caleb announces finally, a slight pout on his mouth now.

I widen my eyes and try to bite back a laugh, but Jake doesn’t look amused. He ruffles his hair again. “Mate, we talked about this.” He gives me an apologetic look.

“A boy’s name. It is?” I ask Caleb as I rest the basket on the grass by my feet.

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