Golden Luckenbooth

Twenty-Six

"We bloody won!" Lorna jumps up and down, her hands grasping Harry's forearms, as he jumps with her.

"Pipe down, you two!" Blair hoots, "It's not like we've never won before –" Her dramatic pause makes me smile. "- except we haven't! First time, baby!" Grabbing me around the waist, she pretends to waltz me across the pub floor while other patrons playfully sneer at us as they shuffle their way out of the pub.

"Hey! Settle down, ya numpties! Here's your prize." Brodie holds out a gift certificate for 50 quid for a future night of food and drinks, and Harry gleefully snatches it, holding it over his head as he does another little dance of victory which sort of resembles a high knee, wide-leg jog.

Lorna hugs me. "That was the most fun! Thank you for sharing your boyfriend. Bonus that he knew which album beat Hotel California at the Grammys."

"And the year!" Harry yells to her, emphasising the bonus point that had pushed us over the top. He grabs my coat and holds it up for me to put my arms in, handing me gloves, scarf, and a hat, all knitted by my sister as a Christmas present last year.

"That too, you beautiful man!"

With those words, she blows him a kiss and disappears into the dark winter night before I've a chance to correct her. Not about Harry being a beautiful man because he clearly is, but rather about him being my boyfriend when he's nothing of the sort.

Right?

"Ready, babe?" He asks as he buttons his coat and pulls on his own gloves, decidedly not handmade by my sister, but probably handmade by some designer at Gucci. As we exit the pub and start walking towards the clinic and house, he grasps my gloved fingers and swings our conjoined hands between us as we walk.

"Harry?"

"Anna?"

"What's up with the 'babe'?" Despite my brain screaming at me that it's better to not know, my heart can't take the ambiguity anymore.

"Am I not allowed to call my girlfriend 'babe'?"

"Girlfriend? Is that what I am? Are we dating?"

Our hands stop swinging, but he doesn't release mine, and I'm grateful that he's not freaking out at my question.

"I assumed. Was I wrong?"

"Are you expecting a long term relationship here?"

"Well, we are having a baby together."

"That doesn't mean we're dating. Or that we have to be together romantically at all."

"Do you not like me?"

"I like you just fine, Harry, and for the record, I have no problem with us dating if that's what we're doing."

"Ah, I see. You're saying you didn't know if that's what we were doing or not."

"Exactly. I mean, we had a glorious month together, and we created a human, but we never talked about a future for us beyond co-parenting."

"Then let's talk about it now." When he breathes out, the air turns white from the condensation of his breath, and I shiver with the cold. "You said you're not opposed."

"Harry," I pull him to a stop next to me, turning so I can face him head-on. "I am interested in exploring a future with you, as long as we're not trying to create a relationship simply because we're going to share a child."

"What does that mean, Anna?"

"You didn't answer my calls and text messages after you left. We were set to go our separate ways until we found out about the bairn. That doesn't sound like a couple seeking a future together."