The whole world wobbled under Bea. Avery was pregnant! Twelve weeks pregnant. Josh had only left her four months ago. This was like being blown into the back wall of the coffee shop. It was betrayal all over again – essentially finding out that because she hadn’t been keen enough to drop her writing dreams to have children, somehow, she wasn’t good enough.
You have to put this baby news to the back of your mind. You will be a mom in time with the right guy. The one saving grace was that Bea felt a little sorry for Avery. The woman had fallen for Josh.At least I don’t have a douchebag for a partner and I’m not tied to one for the rest of my life due to sharing a child.
Bea pulled up her own Insta profile. Maybe she should update it with something exciting. The last post was of her trying on a spotted hat at JFK. It was quirky and some of her readers had commented ‘cute’ and how they couldn’t wait to read the writing that her travels inspired, but Bea didn’t have the inclination to create visually stunning social media posts with her face front and centre. She communicatedwith her readers but preferred to put all her efforts into chatting to them and the actual writing. What was important to Bea was the development of the characters in her novels, not the development of a glossy image.
Besides, she had made it known that she would be away for three months and that her interaction on social media would be minimal. Amira was tending to that side of things, monitoring to check there weren’t any urgent posts that needed attended to, reminding those unaware that Bea was busy in Scotland researching and writing her next novel – the first in a series set in the country – but that she promised them the silence would be worthwhile.
Secretly, Bea hoped that this novel would be the one that did it for her. The one that people sat up and took an interest in. She wasn’t expectingFifty Shadestype interest – that storm only came along once in a while – and her small but loyal group of readers were what kept her going, but she wanted her books to be known by more than a hundred people and she wanted to pay her bills without worry. And now a little voice told her it would be an excellent way to show Josh that if only he’d stuck with her a little longer – had more faith – then he would have reaped the rewards.
‘Okay, stop that now; you’re tempting fate,’ Bea spoke out loud as she put her phone back on the counter.
‘Pardon,’ said an old lady sitting at the table behind her.
‘Oh, nothing.’ Bea smiled at the old lady. ‘I was talking to myself.’
‘First sign of sanity,’ said the lady, and Bea chuckled at the woman’s humour. In conjunction with her sing-song accent, it was comforting. And Bea needed all the comfort she could get right now.
Chapter 4
Cal
Butler’s bar was situated down one of Edinburgh’s many closes – narrow, sometimes cobbled, alleyways that ran perpendicular to the main streets of the Old Town. This secluded location meant that in the early morning there weren’t many people passing, and there were never any cars – only the view of two residential properties with pretty, coloured doors across from the bar entrance.
Cal sat at a table in the bar scrolling through his LinkedIn feed, but it was all drivel. He pushed the phone to the side, sipped his coffee and meditated on the bucketing rain. The bar would get busy at night with locals who knew about it through reputation, tourists who’d found out about it on a review site or those who happened on it by chance. But for now, particularly because of the weather, it was quiet. Cal inhaled the silence.
On the table, his phone vibrated, his sister Cara’s name flashing up on the screen.
‘Hi, Cara.’
‘Is it true?’ As usual, Cara wasted no time in getting to the point.
‘You might need to give me more to go on here. Is what true?’
‘That I’m going to be an auntie.’
Cal froze. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘You mean you don’t know? How can you not know? It’s all over the socials. And besides, you’re the dad, so you should know.’
‘I’m the dad?’ Cal thought for a second. The last person he was intimate with was his former girlfriend, Elisabetta Angelsey, a socialite and social climber/leech. They’d dated for about six months and Cal couldn’t believe they’d lasted so long. Elisabetta’s desire to appear at the opening of every door with Z-list celebrities was in direct contrast to Cal’s desire to appear nowhere and to have as little to do with celebrities as possible. Elisabetta had dragged him to social events where photographers from society magazines had pointed cameras, so they’d be sure to end up on the social pages with captions under the photos saying things like:Elisabetta Angelsey and Cal Butler, CEO of Butler’s bar and heir to the BDL empire. Photos next to people whose names meant nothing to Cal but when in print next to her own had made Elisabetta squeal with delight. Cal was entirely faithful to Elisabetta and hadn’t slept with anyone else in the three months since they’d split up, so he figured it must be her child to whom Cara was referring. But why was he learning about this from his sister, who had learned about it from social media?
‘Well,’ said Cara, ‘she doesn’t say that you’re the dad, but Elisabetta is your ex and the timings would make sense, so I figured…’
‘Let me get this straight.’ Cal put the phoneon speaker and massaged his temples. ‘Elisabetta is pregnant and shouting about it on social media, but she isn’t saying who the father is?’
‘Yes, check your socials. You’ll see. She’s posted a scan and underneath it says, “I’m not sure who it looks more like, me or the daddy. What do you think?”And she isn’t dating anyone else, so it must be yours.’
Cal held back from swearing. This was so Elisabetta. Each move calculated with an audience in mind, all about likes and followers. Cal didn’t even want to see the photo. If he was the father, why hadn’t she called and told him?
‘Okay, well, thanks for letting me know, Cara, but this is the first I’ve heard of it, so hold off on telling people you’ll be an auntie for now, please?’
‘Oh.’ A kilo of buoyancy dropped out of Cara’s voice. ‘Are you going to call her and ask her? You know, this would make Mum and Dad’s year.’
Cara had pinpointed a poignant truth, but that couldn’t be the only consideration. The fact that this could all be a drive for attention was one of the first things that crossed Cal’s mind. One of the reasons he had ended the relationship with Elisabetta was because they had nothing in common. At first, he found her physically attractive; they’d both enjoyed fine dining and sharing superb wine, but even the sex hadn’t been good enough to buffer things when their personalities were so diametrically opposed. He, down to earth and protective of his privacy, she, highly strung and socially vivacious. And that was putting it generously. Attention-hungry might have been a better description, and that’s what worried Cal about this pregnancy. Sure, it would be wonderful for his father to become a grandfather in the last years of his life, but Cal also didn’t want hopes being raised then dashed.
‘Yes, I will call her, but you can’t say anything to anyone in the family about this.’
Cara reluctantly agreed to do things her brother’s way. He knew what a great auntie she’d be. She would love a child of her own, but chose the wrong men, time after time, and was now busy with her work as an in-demand actress.
