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Leia is waiting for me when I finally arrive home. I dropped by Vinn’s club on my way to check everything was running smoothly, which it was, so I figured I could come back here and make the most of the quiet night while they’re all out partying. Only Leia isn’t having any of it as she lays out a new dress on my bed. “This is perfect for you.” The short, flared, red dress is pretty and something I’d choose if I was to buy it. Teamed with the heels she’s holding up, it’s a stunning outfit.
“I have a headache. I’m just gonna go to bed.”
“And watch reruns of Friends on your own? Snap out of it, Raven.”
“I’m gonna sleep. An early night will do me good.”
“You’re coming, whether you like it or not. Chains will carry you over his shoulder if I tell him to,” she threatens.
“Leia, seriously, haven’t you ever had a break-up so bad you can’t stand the thought of making small talk all evening?”
“Yes,” she says firmly. “When Chains left the club, I was devastated, but I carried on. And now, you have to.”
I sigh, and she pulls me in for a hug. “It’s taken a long time for me to like you, Raven. Don’t piss me off now.” I smile against her shoulder. She has such a way with words.
MAC
The two people who don’t hate me around here are my niece, Rose, and my nephew, Shelby. When they first saw me four days ago, they were over the moon. Rose kept touching my face and telling me how much I looked like her daddy. It was sad and cute all at the same time. They’ve recently turned four and they don’t quite understand why their mummy is hiding away from the world. The brothers are civil towards me, not exactly friendly, but they’re not ignoring me either, which is fine by me, I get it. My parents avoid me at all costs. Mum can’t bring herself to look at me. I guess having me here is a reminder of what they’ve all lost.
That’s why I can’t stay here. Once Meghan is feeling better, I’ll go, but not back to London. Hurting Raven after getting her to trust me has been an all-time low to add to my collection.
I settle on the picnic blanket next to Meg. It’s taken four days to get her from the room and into the fresh air. The twins are playing with a ball, and she watches them with tears in her eyes. She hasn’t spoken to me, not since the shower incident four days ago, but each day I’ve sat with her, forced her to shower and brush her teeth, and brought her food, even though she hardly eats it.
“Meg, we have to talk about the baby,” I try for the third time. “You need a scan to check it’s okay and to find out how far along you are.” She stays quiet. “I booked it. We’re leaving in ten minutes.” This snaps her out of her trance, and she glares at me. “We need to know whose baby it is,” I say bluntly.
“It’s mine,” she whispers.
“And maybe mine,” I say, pleased she’s finally spoken.
“We’ll never know, though, will we?” she mumbles.
The chances of doing a DNA test and getting an accurate result are slim since me and Cain were twins. “We will if the dates don’t add up.”
“Look at me,” she hisses, leaning back to show her small bump. “I could only be a few months. He’s been dead for three.”
“You’ve lost a lot of weight. It’s hard to tell.”
Mum approaches us. I’d asked Ruby to ask her if she’d have the twins while we go for the scan. She looks past us to the kids. “Thanks for this, Mum,” I say, but she doesn’t acknowledge me. I sigh, standing and holding out my hand to Meg. She pushes herself up without my help, and I roll my eyes, heading for my bike.
* * *
“Do you have any idea how far along you might be?” asks the sonographer with a gentle smile. I’d already explained on the telephone that Meg’s husband had recently died, and so she’s not been in touch with the doctor or a midwife. Meg shakes her head and stares blankly ahead at the wall. The sonographer gives me a sympathetic smile and goes about setting up the machine.
“You’ll need to pull your top up,” she adds, but Meg stays still, completely ignoring her. Instead, I roll up Meg’s top, and the sonographer squirts a clear liquid on her stomach. She spends a few minutes silently rolling the scanner over Meg’s bump, occasionally giving an awkward smile. “Meghan, you’re due,” she says carefully. “Your baby is full term. It could arrive any day.”
Meghan sucks in a surprised breath, then bursts into tears, sobbing into her hands. I begin pacing, hardly believing my ears. The baby isn’t mine. It can’t be mine. “Oh, sweetie,” says the sonographer, handing her some tissues. “Would you like to know what you’re having?” she asks, and Meg nods. “It’s a boy.”
I feel Meg’s body shaking all the way back to the club as she lets her tears flow. We go inside, and she sweeps the twins against her and kisses them over and over. Mum looks on in annoyance. Meg leads the kids away, and I take a seat. Dad is on the couch also, so it’s the perfect time to talk.
