“I can’t say I’m not shocked, Charlotte,” my dad begins. “I think I can speak for both myself and your mother when I say you’re our little girl and neither of us expected this day so soon.”
I nod, biting down on my bottom lip. Even though I’m an adult, it’s always scary when your father uses your first name.
“With that being said, we also can’t begin to imagine what life has been like for you. And as much as we would have liked to have been by your side every step of the way, I think you’re right—we would have come back to London instantly, and you clearly needed to do this alone.”
“I did. I know it’s hard to understand.” My voice is low but holds strength.
“You’ve been on your own these past four years, Lottie. And it’s your actions and the responsibilities you’ve taken on that have shown us enough to know you will be a great mother to this little girl. It would be a lie to say we don’t worry, but you will soon learn that comes with the territory of being a parent.”
“Are you really okay with this?” I ask my mum, who hasn’t spoken much. I need to know the truth.
“I’ve never been that mother who dreams her whole life of her child getting married and having babies. My dreams for you were always that you would do what makes you happy. Have a career that fulfilled you, then if you wanted, meet someone to love and have a baby if you desired. And, well, you’ve been living your dream, pursuing your career for the past eight years. So really, you’ve been making me proud your entire life. I never wanted you to have to do this alone, Lottie. But I know if anyone can, it’s you.”
“Thank you for understanding,” I whisper, tears blocking my vision as I tug her into a hug. She latches onto me, keeping me as close as possible before pulling back and looking at my stomach.
“Can I?”
I quickly remove off my coat, finally showing off my little bump for the first time. My mother gasps, her hands eagerly resting atop my stomach.
“Oh, Michael, you have to come feel this.”
I laugh as the baby kicks, my mother’s face the picture of pure joy. My dad comes over and kneels next to me. His eyes ask permission, so I grab his hand and place it beside my mother’s. We sit like this for a few moments, all of us in awe of this small human moving around inside of me. My father wipes at his eyes before standing and taking a sip of water.
“Now, there are two things I need you to agree to in order for us to move forward.”
My dad’s stern voice catches me off guard, but I find myself nodding anyway.
“Next visit, I want to meet this Owen you’ve spoken about.”
“Not this visit?” I ask.
“We only have a few days with you, and we intend to spend them all with you. Your mother has already gotten you a room next door. I think getting her to leave your side would be impossible at this point.”
I laugh, my eyes clouding up. “Of course I’ll stay,” I tell them both. Mum’s hand tightens around my own. “And what’s the second thing?”
“I want the last known address of Beck. If that little shit thinks he can just fuck off, he has another think coming. A little visit from Uncle Carmine should set him straight.”
“Dad!” I yell at the mention of Uncle Carmine. He isn’t actually an uncle—he’s an old friend of Dad’s who isn’t exactly on the up and up. Dad’s never been one to involve himself in illegal activity, so his friendship with Uncle Carmine has always been just that, a friendship. Yet I’m not ignorant enough to not know what he would do. I look to Mum for assistance, but she merely shakes her head.
“Your dad is right, Lottie. He shouldn’t get to walk away from this.”
I pull my hand from hers. “All these emotions, this anger and rage you’re feeling toward him—trust me, I’ve felt them too. I felt them for the first two months of this pregnancy. It was humiliating that I gave over two years of my life to someone who not only cheated on me, but fucked off after I told him I was pregnant. But after that rage subsided, I began to feel acceptance, and with that came the understanding that we don’t need Beck.”
I pause, taking a breath. “You can’t force someone to be a father, and trust me when I say he would only bring trouble into this baby’s life. I need you both to promise me you won’t attempt to contact him.” I refuse to waver as I speak, my voice steady.
It takes my dad a few moments, but he eventually relents. “As much as I want to pay that dickhead a visit, I know you’re old enough to make your own choices, and we respect that.”
“Thank you.”
We spend the next few hours filling one another in on what we’ve been doing over the past few months. My mother is desperate to only talk about the baby, but it’s important to me to know what they’ve both been doing too. With every passing second my anxiety about today slips away a little more, my heart and soul grateful that I’ve got these two as my parents.
When Dad has to go take a work call, Mum manages to turn the conversation back around to the baby again. I happily let her. She needs this—she needs to catch up on what she feels she has missed.
“Have you thought about names?” Mum asks as she brings me over a hot cup of tea.
I shake my head. “I honestly can’t pick one to save my life.”
“That’s okay! When you were born, you didn’t have a name until you were five days old.”
“What!” I laugh,
