Maybe it was the joke I'd pulled the night I told him? Maybe the mere hint of us not being able to have sex had made him needier? Whatever the reason, for the last week, he had only left my side when I went to work. He'd stayed at mine every night since, and even begged me to stay at his last weekend when he'd had Caleb. I'd been reluctant because I didn't want Caleb to think I was encroaching on his time with his father. But according to Jake, my being there would mean Caleb wouldn't spend the entire night asking about me.
In the end, it had been a lovely night filled with rug wrestling, the Lion King sing-a-long, and CBeebies bedtime stories. I'd spent most of the time watching them in awe; marvelling at how much fatherhood suited Jake. He conversed with his son with ease, scolded him gently whenever he said or did something mischievous or unsafe, and slipped in moral lessons about right and wrong without thought.
As I watched them I'd thought a lot about what he'd said last week. About how he'd initially wanted no involvement in his son's life. I'd thought about what a waste that would have been. He was incredible with him. He gave the impression that nothing about nurturing this beautiful, dependent little human phased him in the slightest. His manner reminded me a lot of my own dad - gentle but firm, warm but disciplinary, loving but considered. I'd been more certain than ever that Jake was the only kind of father I'd want to have a child with.
The day after, when we'd pulled up to Vicky's terraced house in Stepney to drop him off, I'd turned around in my seat to thank Caleb for letting me join in on his 'daddy day'. He'd smiled wide and shoved himself forward between the two front seats to kiss me lightly on the cheek. The gesture had almost stopped my heart. "I want you to read me my story next time Alex, not my dad," he announced. He didn't seem to care that Jake was standing right there, ready to lift him out of the car.
I flicked my eyes to Jake who was smiling at me, eyebrow raised. "Um, well, I'd be very happy to read you your story next time, Caleb," I replied. "If that's ok with your dad?" His story was 'Dear Zoo,' a progression from The Very Hungry Caterpillar who Jake was 'fucking glad to see the back of.' As he'd read it to him I'd peeked into the bedroom and almost burst out crying from how adorable the sight was. "Hmmm, I think I'll survive. Let's go little lion man," Jake said before gripping him under the arms and scooping him out of his car seat.
As Caleb waved goodbye to me Vicky appeared at the front door. With her hair knotted on top of her head and dressed in a hoodie and Ugg boots she stood with her arms folded like a surly teenager. I'd tried my hardest not to watch the interaction between her and Jake, but since I couldn't read lips it was all I'd had. It was the first time I'd ever seen them together and my curiosity about their relationship had abated none. They'd said a few words before he'd ruffled Caleb's hair and started back to the car. She'd then shouted something which I couldn't hear but which caused him to roll his eyes and throw a look back at her over his shoulder.
It made me wonder about how she'd react when he told her about the baby. Caleb's reaction worried me too. He seemed like such a sensitive little boy, and no doubt it would give him lots to think about. I hated the idea of causing him any kind of stress or worry. It felt to me that for a three-year-old, he did far too much of that already.
I'm by the sink considering all of this as he comes into the kitchen carrying his grey and blue rucksack as well as a large black holdall. Both appear to be full. I raise an eyebrow in question as he dumps them loudly by the kitchen door.
"So, all I had to do to get you to move in was get pregnant? If only I'd known it was that easy." I smile, drying my hands on the dish towel.
He narrows his eyes as he wraps his arms around me, pushing me back into the counter with his body. "It's two bags — don't get excited man trapper," he says lowering his mouth to kiss me, growling softly as he sucks on my lip. His hands skate over my behind and he grips it to pull me closer to him.
"Do I look excited?" I ask dryly.
He nods. "Yeah, you do actually."
"You know you want to so just bloody do it already," I sigh, before attempting to move out of his hold. His grip stays firm and he pushes me back against the sink.
"You think you're that fucking irresistible, doctor?" His eyes and voice are playful.
"Well you seem to think so. You haven't left me alone for days." I grin.
"You are pretty addictive..." he says softly, skimming his hand up to my face, which he strokes with his thumb. "But you know why I can't move in right?" His face is a little more serious before he lowers his mouth to my neck.
"Well, about that.... I was thinking..." I begin.
"Mmmmm?" he presses his lips gently to the column of my neck where he kisses downward. "Thinking about what?"
"Why doesn't Caleb come and stay here this weekend? We could do the Wyndham walk? There are cows and sheep and a few Shetland ponies. He'd like that, wouldn't he? I think he would." Jake lifts his head up to stare down at me. "We could bring some of his things from your place and put them in the room upstairs for when he gets here — you know, to make it less scary for him." Am I rambling?
"You've been thinking about this?" He asks.
I nibble my lip. "A little.." A lot.
He stares at me wordlessly for a bit, his face an odd mix of expressionless and confusion. I've no clue what he's thinking. I'm about to tell him to forget I ever mentioned it when he speaks. "Are you kidding me?"
"No..." Why would I be kidding him?
He smiles then. "You seriously want Cale's stuff cluttering up that fancy spare bedroom? Messing up your tidy clean house?" He raises an eyebrow and casts a look about the kitchen. "You saw the mess he makes right? You saw the fingers? He puts them everywhere, baby. Everywhere." He waves his fingers at me playfully, eyes wide.
I giggle. "Like father like son — I'll cope."
He chuckles and pulls me closer to his body. "Okay. Then let's make it happen," he says. "I'll bring some of his stuff over tomorrow when you're at work."
That was easy. "Won't you have to clear it with Vicky first? You seriously think she won't have something to say about it?"
"Oh she'll have something to say about it." He gives a dismissive half shrug. "But she'll have to get used to it — you know for when I move in." He winks, moving away from me to snatch a piece of bread from the basket.
"Because you have absolutely not moved in yet."
He tears a chunk of bread in half with his teeth, saying his next words with his mouth full. Actually a very un-Jake like thing to do. "Alex, when I move in, you'll fucking know about it." He mumbles. It sounds like a threat.
I grin. "Oh, is that so?"
He nods. "Yeah, it is."
I turn back to the sink. "So... have you gotten rid of your cleaner yet?" I ask.
"Nah, but I should do. I've been trying to make a mess every time I go over just to give her something to do."
I turn to pout at him. "God, that must be tiring, you poor thing." He smiles. "You know what I think? I think you're trying to move in with me quietly, so everyone thinks you're still London's most eligible bachelor."
Suddenly he's behind me again, nuzzling the scratchy length of his beard against the back of my neck. My shoulders rise in reflex as I try and twist out of his touch. "Hmm. That's what you think is it?"
"It is, yes," I giggle, turning my body round to face him.
A crease of confusion appears between his eyebrows. "Alex, you do realise you're the catch in this scenario don't you?" He motions between us.
"Oh my god, that's why you knocked me up isn't it??" I pretend to be shocked.
"Can't say you weren't warned. I told you that day in the cafe - rest of my life. Just had to get you to fall in love with me first."
I gape at him. "So you trapped me? Not the other way around. You're bloody despicable Jake Lawrence."
"Yeah, but you knew that too. And you love it so let's stop fucking about, yeah?"
My mouth softens into a smile as he moves away from me to lift another slice of the seeded bread. Then he goes to the fridge and pulls it open to inspect the contents, pulling out a tray of baby tomatoes and selecting a couple which he pops into his mouth. He's going to ruin his appetite. Before closing the fridge he lifts out a bottle of beer uncapping it with the magnet opener stuck to the front of the fridge.
"Sooo.... I'm thinking I'll tell my mum and dad at dinner on Sunday. Do you... want to be there with me?"
He swallows, lowers his bottle from his mouth and sits it on the counter, his fingers wrapped tightly around it. "Do you want me there with you?" He asks. "I'll be with you if that's what you want."
Until he said it I hadn't actually realised how much it was what I wanted. "I want you with me," I reply. Jake nods a few times.
"Then I'll be there," he says.
I smile. "Oh and Nick's going to be there — it'll be nice for you to meet him finally."
The look that comes over his face then is almost funny. He's terrified. Jake Lawrence, one of the most dangerous men in London (by his own admission), is afraid of my brother. I want to laugh but I'm certain he looks a little paler than he did a moment ago. "Yeah, sounds good," He says tightly, lifting his bottle to his mouth again.
"It'll be fine, I promise." I give him my most sincere smile. I'm not entirely sure it will be fine, but it will certainly be interesting. For some reason, I'm not as nervous about telling them about the baby as I was about introducing them to Jake. In any case, I suppose I'll finally find out how much my mother is looking forward to being a grandmother after all. "Dinner won't be much longer if you want to go put those away?" I gesture to the bags he dumped when he came in.
He gives me a pointed look, of course to do with his 'tidy clean house' comment, and sets his beer down and goes to lift both bags. "Where will I put the stuff?" He asks, hooking the rucksack over his shoulder
"I cleared the bottom three drawers for you in the tall unit by the window," I tell him, turning my focus back to the dinner. "And there's some hanging space in the spare bedroom if you need it." The one that would be Caleb's room. Rob could easily help make it more of a little boy's bedroom. She'd love to help with that. I'll ask her at dinner on Wednesday. She'd literally squealed down the phone when I told her about Jake's reaction to the baby. Sensing he still hasn't left the kitchen, I turn back around to find him staring at me.
"What?" I ask.
"You cleared out drawers for me already?"
I shrug. "Well, I knew you'd need them eventually."
He raises an eyebrow. "How'd you know that exactly?"
I shrug. "I'm irresistible."
He tries not to smile. "I'll be in fucking wellies next thing I know," he huffs.
"Oh actually, I ordered you a pair. Size eleven?" I manage to hold my giggle in for all of five seconds before I tell him I'm joking. Dear god, he's going to look bloody edible in a waxed jacket and wellies. I make a mental note to order him both for his birthday.
"Fucking man trapper..." he mutters as he carries his bags out of the kitchen. I laugh out loud.
The sound of him climbing the stairs is drowned out by the sound of my mobile vibrating off the worktop on the opposite side of the kitchen. I slide the potatoes slightly off the ring and cross towards it. My heart leaps into my throat at the message and I glance behind me to check I'm still alone.
I let out a deep breath as I read and re-read the message. She isn't pressuring me. She's sorry.
The last few lines are what almost makes my legs buckle though. ... I spoke to Jon ... he wants to talk to him... he wants to see him...
Oh, my god.
***
I'm flagging and it's not even lunchtime; a bone heavy tiredness that I know will only shift with caffeine or sleep — and lot's of it. However, since I'm meeting Rob for dinner later, the latter feels like some unattainable fantasy goal. All I want is to go straight home after work and have Jake run me a bath and massage my lower back and feet. But I haven't seen her for nearly a fortnight and she's made reservations and gets annoyed whenever I cancel. So instead I resolve to go for a walk at lunchtime and try harder to ignore the dull ache punching continually at my lower back. It certainly isn't being helped by my lethargic slouching behind my desk.
The instant Mr Farrelly leaves after his 12:15 pm, I grab my coat and bag from behind the door and let my office door slam shut behind me. When I come into the waiting room Katie is on her feet, nodding understandingly at a woman leaning over the reception desk. She's making a demand of some sort I think. One Katie isn't able to help her with.
I take a deep breath and sharpen my tongue. I'm absolutely not in the mood for this today. I'm so tired of the crap our receptionists take from irate patients. As though the waiting times are their fault, as though any of it is their fault. As I near, Katie turns her head and shoots me an apologetic look.
"Alex, this lady wanted to speak with you," Katie explains. "You were still in with Mr Farrelly and I didn't know..."
At the mention of my name 'the lady' whips around to face me and all strength leaves my legs. I also feel like I've been kicked in the stomach, and my hand moves over it defensively.
"Vicky, " I manage. It comes out less like a spoken word and more like a gasp of shock. "Is Jake alright?" I think I ask this because it's literally the only reason I can think of as to why she's standing in front of me. Except, I'm certain I'm the last person she'd come to if something had happened to him. I should really find out who Jake's emergency contact is.
She looks at me like it's the most ridiculous question she's ever heard. "How the hell would I know?" She snipes. She looks better than she did on Sunday. Her hair is down, draped over her shoulders and styled a few shades darker than the brassy blonde colour it was the first time we met. The colour far better suits her tanned complexion. She looks pretty. I can't see her eyes because she's hiding them behind large sunglasses which have gold Chanel signs etched into the legs but I'm certain she's glaring at me.
"We need to talk," Vicky states.
Did we? Talking to Vicky wasn't something I'd ever class as a need I don't think. Katie looks between us both, still tense and uncertain and I do give her a reassuring smile and turn back to Vicky.
"Um, well I was just about to take lunch actually," I tell her. "There's a coffee shop the next street over?" She gives me a flick of her head before marching towards the front door.
Blinking my surprise, I look back at Katie and take a deep breath. "I won't be long. If Jake happens to call, tell him to phone my mobile?"
Katie nods, flashing me a tight smile which definitely says 'good luck'.
Vicky is waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs and we proceed to walk in absolute silence to the deli. It's probably the most awkward few minutes of my life. I even speed up at one point so it will be over with sooner. She keeps up, walking beside me, her entire body bristling with tension. It gives the impression that she may be about to bolt off into the distance at any moment. But of course I'm not that lucky. For conversation, I consider asking how she knew where I worked, but then I think that it may come off as rude. And since I'm now listed under the practice as a partner, and she knows my name, I suppose I wouldn't be too hard to find with the help of google.
The deli is busy as always but there are some stools free by the window and I point to them before turning to asking if she'd like anything to drink.
"No," is her curt response.
"Okay, I'm just going to go order myself a coffee," I say as I make my way to the counter.
As I pass her, an overwhelming wave of thick sweet perfume washes over me sending my stomach careening back into the state it was in this morning. Fabulous.
The young guy behind the counter offers to bring my double Americano over to me and it crosses my mind to tell him I'll just wait, anything to avoid having to speak to her. It also crosses my mind to call Jake and tell him she's here, but I don't want her thinking that I need him to fight my battles for me. And I've no doubt this was about to be a battle.
With leaden feet I cross to where she's sitting straight-backed on the wooden stool tapping her fingernails impatiently. As I plant my coat and bag on the counter she turns to me, sliding her glasses up onto her forehead. She is glaring at me. A glare designed to kill, or at the very least maim badly. Her eyes are red-rimmed and tired looking, as though she might have been crying, and a stab of guilt shoots through me for some reason.
"I assume you didn't come for medical advice?" I attempt a smile.
"He told me you were pregnant."
Seriously Jake? A bloody heads up would have been nice. "I see," I nod.
"Was he lying?"
"No. He wasn't lying."
A look so full of hatred comes into her eyes then that I actually want to move away from her, put some distance between us. But I don't move. Instead I harden my body and settle my hand protectively over my tummy again. A move that doesn't escape her notice.
"Jake loves Caleb, Vicky," I say. "He isn't going to be there any less for him if that's what you're worried about. That would never be the case... Jake would never —."
"What the fuck do you know about what he would do?" She laughs, cutting me off. "You don't have the first fucking clue about what he would do, yeah? You think you know him?" Another small mean laugh. "Well you don't. You know nothing about him, sweetheart. Nothing."
Of course. Of course this isn't about Caleb. Or my being pregnant. It's most likely about her. Her and Jake. What this means for her and Jake.
"You think I don't know him?" I ask.
"Oh, I fucking know you don't."
I consider my next words carefully. I'm about to speak when the barista appears and sets my coffee down in front of me. I smile my thanks at him and slide it a little closer to me, twisting the handle round to five o'clock. "When were you and Jake last together?" I ask, lifting my eyes to hers. Vicky looks confused by my question I think. "As a couple," I clarify. "I know Caleb was after, and completely unplanned, but when were you and Jake last together in a relationship? Eight years ago was it? Nine? Longer?"
She stares at me hard, pretending to think about it. Instead, I'm certain she's thinking about grabbing the cup of hot steaming coffee and throwing it in my face, scratching my eyes out with her polished rose pink fingernails, ripping my hair out by the roots. "What's that got to do with anything?" She asks, nostrils flared.
I fix her with a hard stare. "Don't you think that maybe I see a different Jake to the one you see? Don't you think it's possible that he's a different person to the person you knew all those years ago? Does it even occur to you that maybe he isn't the same person with me as he was with you?"
She shoots me another hot glare. "Oh I know he isn't the same person with you as he was with me," she smirks. How does she know that exactly? "But he's the same fucking Jake, trust me."
"And what is it exactly that makes you so sure that I don't know who that is?"
"Because you're still with him," she says simply. "Because if you knew who he really was you'd run a fucking mile."
I nod and lift my cup again, sipping slowly before I set it back down. When I speak again I lower my voice, fixing her with a hard stare. "You seriously think I don't know who he is? You think I don't know what his name means to most of London? You think I don't know who Dan or Kevin or Paul or Maryk really are? You think I'm clueless about his 'long drives' and his late night phone calls and why the police follow his every bloody move? You think I don't notice the bruised knuckles and the blood on his clothes when he comes home to me?" I shake my head. "Christ, then you really must think I'm a complete idiot."
She stares back at me speechless. "What the fuck has he told you about Dan?" she asks, finally.
I smile, innocently. "Nothing at all. But I do know that he loves Jake like a son and makes a lovely bolognese - he had us over for dinner last week," I explain. "It was a lovely night. Have you met Steph? She's really sweet - they make a lovely couple don't you think?" I lift my coffee. I think she knows now I'm trying to bait her but to her credit, she doesn't bite. She just narrows her eyes on me and increases the level of animosity in them.
"Dan won't let him take Caleb away from me. He's fucking insane if he thinks he'll let that happen. I'm family - Jake isn't."
I decide to stay quiet on that. Mainly as I know nothing about what Dan will let Jake do. What I do know is that Jake plans to remove Dan from the picture completely. That would make Vicky much easier to fight I suppose. As I sip my coffee I keep my expression as impassive as possible. "Why are you here, Vicky? What do you want from me exactly?"
"I'm here to warn you to keep your fucking claws out of my son."
"Jake's son?" I correct.
"Mine," she replies. "Picnics, sleepovers and now you want him to stay at your fucking house — what's the matter? Scared in case you can't hang on to that one. Fancy a spare do you?" She says dragging her eyes down my body.
It takes all of my composure not to slap her across the face. I stiffen and grit my own teeth as I stare her down. "Don't you think that maybe this is a conversation you should be having with Jake, Caleb's father?"
"Oh, don't worry I have. Now I'm telling you."
"So this is a threat? Or a warning?"
"Both. And maybe if he hears it from you he'll fucking listen," she spits, leaning closer. "He thinks I won't do it, but I will. Tell him I wasn't fucking joking."
"Joking about what?" I ask, perplexed.
"I know enough to hurt him. Enough to make sure he never sees Caleb again." She lifts her chin up.
I gape at her then, utterly speechless.
"You threatened him?" Christ even I know that's not a good idea.
"I warned him."
"And what the hell would that achieve exactly? You'd break Caleb's heart — stop him seeing his father — simply because you don't like him spending time with his father's new girlfriend?"
"Oh, don't flatter yourself, you stuck up cow," she spits. "I'm talking about this custody thing, which I'm sure you're fucking involved in too. I swear, if he even tries to take him away from me, he'll regret it. I ain't joking." She sounds defiant.
I look around the deli to see how many people are listening to the two women hissing and spitting at each other by the window.
Slowly I stand. "Well then, I think we're done here."
"Since you know everything, I assume you know about Kev?" She says loudly as I go to move away from her.
Something cold moves over me and I stop moving. I turn back and take a step back to her. "What about him?" I ask as disinterestedly as I can. Does she know about what happened that night? Does she know more than that? More than I know?
"He disappeared. Thin air," she raises her eyebrows. "Police found his car burnt out in a warehouse carpark in Brixton." She's watching my face carefully now.
I manage a shrug. "Kevin and I weren't on great terms — we hated each other. There's no reason Jake would mention his name to me." I slide my bag onto my shoulder.
"He didn't tell you the police questioned him about it?" Her eyes are narrowed now. My heart stutters. The police. He was questioned. Oh my god. I'm going to be sick.
"I really need to get back to work, Vicky."
"You really think he's the kind of guy a little boy should look up to?" She asks then. "Is Jake really the kind of father you want for your baby?"
An image of Jake and Caleb comes to my mind then. First at the park. Then playing football. Then Jake pulling Caleb into his arms and burying his face in his neck. Then Jake turning Caleb into an aeroplane by raising him up on the soles of his feet. Then the sound of his voice, low and soft as he read to him.
"Yes, he is," I nod before turning away from her once more. Her eyes burn hotly into my back as I stride to the door and head out into the fresh afternoon air.
As I make my way back to the office I wonder which pile to add Kevin to: things I need to ask him about when this was all over. Or the other, much larger, pile: things I don't ever need to know about as long as I live.