Her Song

28 - The Bacon Myth

I turned my attention back to Lucy and Tony, who was watching me intently even as he tossed words back and forth with Lucy. "I feel snubbed!" he dropped his voice dramatically. This time I had no temptation to roll my eyes, he'd tossed his sunglasses aside and I could see very real hurt in his expression. He gulped back a mouthful of the drink he'd stolen from Lucy.

"I'm pregnant," I blurted just as he frowned down at the glass in his hand and asked, "Why the hell are you both just drinking sparkling water?"

"What did you say?" he asked breathlessly as I repeated, "I'm pregnant."

"Oh my god!" he shrieked and flung himself at me. "I'm going to be an uncle!" I laughed as he flung his arms around me and wrestled me back into the sofa. "Van is certainly a fast worker. That man is potent!" he said admiringly.

I screwed my nose up in a grimace and batted away the hand he'd dropped to my belly – it was way too early for that kind of thing. Lucy made a gurgle that had me glancing in her direction, she was watching on with interest, waiting to hear what my reply to Tony would be,

"Van may be potent but he's not that potent. The baby's not his." I couldn't help the hint of sharpness in my tone. It sounded like a trashy soap opera and as much as I wanted to hang my head in shame for being that girl I was pleased that I could make it up to Tony by sharing the daytime TV drama with him. He lived for this type of gossip.

I was not disappointed. "Noooo!" His jaw unhinged like an anaconda preparing to swallow a goat. He turned to Lucy and barked, "Hero Lucinda Connelly-Clarke, I cannot be expected to sip on mineral water while Kim unburdens herself of the entire scandalous story! Surely in this house owned by a rockstar currently occupied by rockstars you can find me a real drink. Quick! There's no time to lose!" He flapped a hand at her before turning back to me and took both of my hands in his. With a sigh Lucy stood up and padded across the vast expanse of hardwood flooring to the double pocket doors that led to the kitchen.

Tony turned back to me his eyes wide and his face solemn as he said, "Now, tell me which other delicious musical stud have you been banging to leave you in this delicate condition?"

I felt myself slump in defeat. "Not a musician. Bradley."

Tony frowned in confusion. "Bradley?" He ran a finger across his eyebrow. "Don't tell me he's a roadie."

I didn't like the emphasis he put on the word roadie. "Hey! Van used to be a roadie!"

He gave my hand a pat. "I know and if Van was still a roadie I wouldn't care but that's kind of my point isn't it? You have the divine Evan Williams and you've let some other fella – potentially a roadie, that's yet to be confirmed or denied – impregnate you. I'd have expected that if it wasn't Van only the finest quality suitor would be allowed to plant anything in your lady garden."

I'd just raised my glass to my lips and proceeded to spit water all over his hideous shirt. "Oh. My. God. Tony! Don't ever refer to my lady garden again!"

He offered me a shrug and a smirk. "It's not like I've never seen it."

"You promised never to mention that again," I hissed. I'd once had to summon his assistance during a home waxing epic fail. The blow to my dignity that day had put me in good stead for what I had been told was the mortification of all and sundry in the medical profession taking a look at your snatch during pregnancy.

"Well I wouldn't need to if you'd just tell me how you hooked up with a roadie when you have Van taking up space in your bed," he pointed out with a pout.

I rolled my eyes and snapped. "I didn't! It was Bradley Tony. Bradley. Remember? My cheating twat of an ex-boyfriend. He managed to leave me a parting gift."