Em and I speak for a few more minutes before I have to go, my shift starting in five. We hang up with our plans finalized to see one another tonight at the party.
I lean back against the metal chair, a sliver of my wool jumper riding up, exposing skin on my back to the cold rod. Attempting to get more comfortable and relieve my back pain, I move around, but it’s too little relief. Despite only being twenty weeks pregnant, my body feels as though it’s going to crap out on me at any moment. I’ve even started seeing the physical changes this month. My previously flat stomach has rounded slightly, but it’s still subtle enough that I can easily hide it.
Thankfully the morning sickness dissipated when I entered my second trimester, making me able to do longer hours at work. I know Owen thinks I need to take it easy, but he isn’t the one bringing a baby into the world alone. He never says it out loud—it isn’t his style to outwardly judge—but I’ve come to learn his tells. Like that he’s almost too quiet when I talk about things he disagrees with.
It’s funny, I think so many people look at Owen and see this big sexy goofball, and sure, he definitely is, but there are so many layers to that man, I could start peeling them back today and I don’t know if I’d ever get to the center.
“Lottie?” Joan’s voice jerks me out of my Owen-centered thoughts and I quickly stand, making sure my jumper is pulled all the way down.
“Sorry, hun, but we are so swamped. Do you mind helping out Ms. Meyers?”
I nod and head over to the counter, ready to earn every single dollar.
“Are you sure it’s okay I crash?” Although it’s probably too late to ask the question, as we’re already in the car, I can’t help myself. Intruding on Owen’s family lunch feels weird, especially since I’ve yet to meet his mother, stepfather, or younger brother. But from what Owen has said Hugo won’t be here today, so I guess it’s meet-the-parents day.
“Lottie, relax,” Owen says next to me, a grin still plastered to his face over the fact he’s driving my parents’ vintage BMW. Mum called me a few days ago and said I need to use the car more to make sure it keeps running smoothly. I’m not sure if that’s an actual thing or if she’s just being generous, but I didn’t need to be told twice.
So this morning when Owen surprised me with news I was meeting his family, it didn’t take me too long to decide we’d take my car.
“I just don’t want your mum to feel like I’m intruding on your family time. I know she’s been traveling the past year, and I don’t want it to seem like I’m running her time with her children.”
“Lottie, are you nervous?” I don’t need to look at him to see he’s grinning, showing off all those pearly whites. I hear the smile in his voice.
“Well, duh, Owen. She’s your mum. Of course I’m nervous.”
“She’s been home for a while—she’s fine. Plus she really wants to meet you.”
I freeze up at the statement, clutching the silver door handle next to me.
“Does she know?” I ask, my voice low, almost a whisper. Owen knows this secret about me, he’s the only one, and although I’d understand if he wanted to confide in his mother, it’s not something I would want. I don’t need pity or charity, especially in the form of a Sunday lunch. Yes, I know I sound like an asshole, but if Owen’s spilled the metaphorical beans, then I fear this will be me dropping him off and speeding back to my flat.
I must have gone silent, because Owen’s hand leaves the wheel and comes to rest upon my own that’s sitting on the center console.
“I’d never break your confidence like that, Lottie. Mum just knows we’re new friends and to be totally honest, she’s a bit of a busybody. She thinks of anyone I care about as a surrogate child at this point, so it isn’t a shock to me she wants to meet you.”
I try not to let my mind linger on the “care about” aspect, knowing I’m already far too invested in this friendship with Owen. Now I’m meeting his mother and this could really go one of two ways. I just hope she doesn’t view me as someone stringing her son along. Guess I’ll find out in less than twenty minutes.
Evie is probably the kindest human I’ve ever met. Plus, Owen is her spitting image. Her blonde hair is pinned up in a twist while black glasses frame her blue eyes, exact replicas of Owen’s. Being a family lawyer, she’s probably one of the calmest, most centered people I’ve had the pleasure of meeting.
Despite my initial hesitance about meeting her, as soon as she tugged open the door to her flat, she pulled me into a hug, going on about how excited she was to meet me. It didn’t for one second feel disingenuous.
“So, Lottie, Owen tells me you’re a pharmacist?” Steve, Owen’s stepfather, takes a sip of his wine, looking at me from across the table. He isn’t the father to Owen or Hugo. With Owen’s dad having passed when he was little, Evie thought she wouldn’t meet anyone else, so she decided to do IVF and that’s how she got Hugo. Then she eventually met Steve and the rest is history.
“I am,” I confirm after swallowing another roast potato.
These are the best fucking potatoes I’ve ever had.
Steve smiles at me, his salt-and-pepper hair giving away the ten years he has on Evie, although neither of them looks their age.
