The Pitch: City Love 2 (26 page)

“Stop getting ahead of yourself.”

“But it’s a very real possibility,” I protested.

“Exactly. It’s a possibility, not reality.”

“I was going to tell him the other night and then the boys had a fight. When he came back after settling them down, he said he loved them, but he was glad I didn’t want any, because he was done.” I didn’t realize how much I’d been dying to tell someone until the words tumbled out. “What am I going to do?”

Scarlett’s eyes held a steely determination. “You’re going to tell him. And after that, you’ll deal.”

At least the burger tasted good. So far it was the best thing the evening had going for it. Christa was civil, but it was obvious she was hurt by my distance. Her usual bubbly temperament was subdued whenever she spoke to me. She seemed fine, however, when she told everyone about her upcoming plans to join Scarlett in New York later in the year. It reminded me of my deceit, and suddenly I’d had enough.

I grabbed the handbag sitting at my feet. “I’m going to head off now,” I announced.

Cate reached over quickly and clenched my arm. “You can’t go yet. Stay for another drink.”

I grimaced at the thought of another pretend vodka. The bubbly mineral water hadn’t done anything to ease my bloated feeling. “I don’t think so. I need an early night.”

Scarlett stood. “I’ll get you a drink.”

“Guys, please let it go. I’m tired and I’m miserable company tonight. I just want to go home and get some rest.”

“You can sleep in tomorrow morning,” Christa said. “Just stay a bit longer.”

I eyed my friend warily. She’d hardly spoken to me all night and now she wanted me to stay? If she felt guilty about her icy treatment, then that was her problem.

“Not tonight.” The truth was I was feeling worse than tired. The cramped, sweaty conditions of the pub were really starting to get to me and I found myself longing for some fresh air.

I started to walk away from the table but Max jumped up and stood in front of me.

“You need to stay.”

I rolled my eyes at him. “Would you get out of my way?”

He gestured toward the stool I’d just vacated. “Only if you sit down.”

“For fuck’s sake!” I swore uncharacteristically. “Would you please
move?
” It had been a lot of years since I’d attempted to beat up my big brother, but in my frustration I felt my fingers clenching into fists.

“Come on, Maddy. Trust us.” He lay an arm across my shoulders and gently guided me back to my seat.

I resisted the urge to shove him away. Obviously in my self-involved musings I’d missed something. “Alright, what is this about?”

Everyone looked away except for Cate, who smiled at me innocently. “It’s not about anything, Maddy,” she said. “We just think you need some company right now, that’s all.”

I took a moment to absorb her words, before all the air left my lungs in a silent whoosh. Then I rounded on Scarlett, my heart pounding wildly. “You
told
them?”

Scarlett’s eyes widened and she shook her head.

“How could you?” I demanded.

Christa jumped up, her eyes on fire. She pointed accusingly at Scarlett. “How could you confide in her and not in
me?
”

“It wasn’t like that!” I cried. “I told her by mistake, that’s all.”

“So she knows what’s up and you still weren’t going to tell me?” Christa’s blue eyes were pooling with tears.

“Girls,” Scarlett began.

“
Shut up!”
we both shouted at her.

“I don’t understand why you won’t confide in me.” Christa let out a small sob, then a hiccup. Max stood by Christa’s side, looking desperate to comfort her, but unsure whether to get involved.

“Girls,” Scarlett tried again.

We ignored her.

“You would have been the first person to know, after Paul,” I told Christa.

“And then you’ll tell me?” she asked, her voice almost pleading.

I stopped, suddenly confused. I felt sick and tired, and things didn’t seem to be making sense anymore.

“
Girls!”
Scarlett glared at me and used her hand to make a fierce cutting motion in front of her neck.

Oh shit.
She hadn’t said anything. I’d just assumed …

Christa’s eyes were still on me. “So are you going to tell us what’s going on with you now?” She narrowed her eyes at Scarlett. “Seeing as
she
already knows.”

I hesitated. I wasn’t sure if I should sit back down in defeat, or go with my instincts, which were currently urging me to bolt from the pub.

“Oh look!” Cate cried. “The band’s starting.”

I looked at her in disbelief. We all knew about her strong desire to avoid confrontation, but if she thought the band was going to dissuade Christa, she was deluded.

To my surprise, Christa sniffled and sat back down, looking away.

What?
I really needed to go home. Tonight it was if the world had tilted on its axis, knocking everything slightly askew, and I was unable to get my facts straight. If this was baby brain and I was only nine weeks on, I was seriously screwed.

The lights dimmed. A small stage tucked to our right was lit by a set of bright spotlights. I hadn’t even noticed it was there. I realized our table was perfectly positioned to watch the band.

I sat back down in defeat. For the first time that evening, the noise in the pub dropped to an audible low, which surprised me. A man stepped up onto the stage and took hold of the microphone.

“Thanks guys. Tonight we have a treat for you. The Mayfair has a long colorful history and we’ve hosted many bands over the years. Tonight we’re welcoming back a legendary regular. From the mid-nineties, this band played here a staggering two hundred and fifteen times.”

In response to a variety of “wows” and “woo hoos,” the man behind the microphone nodded at the audience. “That’s right, that’s a lot of gigs. In my opinion, they are one of Sydney’s best cover bands of all time, and tonight we’re pleased to host their comeback.”

A few guys shouted unintelligible words of encouragement and the man who was obviously the manager, grinned. “We’ve been told the band members have all gone on to become responsible members of society, but that hasn’t stopped them. It turns out you can teach an old dog new tricks. Tonight you’ll be treated to some old favorites, but they’ve got plenty of new stuff in store for you too. Please welcome to the stage
Undercover Uprising!
”

The pub erupted into a deafening roar of applause. I sat startled as my friends clapped loudly, cheering the empty stage.

And then my jaw dropped when I saw Greg – as in Paul’s business partner, Greg – walk casually onto the stage and take his place behind the set of drums. The clapping intensified and I heard a few wolf whistles. Greg’s balding head reddened, but he looked to the audience and grinned broadly, raising his drumsticks in anticipation.

A bass player I didn’t recognize waltzed on to the stage and took his place beside Greg. He was dressed in skinny black jeans and a black T-shirt, with matching black hair falling in waves past his shoulders.

Then Paul stepped out and everything else dropped away. I was vaguely aware of more clapping and a roaring from the audience, but it felt like it was just us in the room. He wore black jeans and a T-shirt like the other band members. His fair hair shone under the spotlight and his eyes appeared impossibly blue. When he saw me, he winked.

I inhaled an unsteady breath and then got to my feet, clapping and cheering with everyone else.

Cate squealed from beside me, jumping up and down in excitement. “Now do you see why we wanted to stay?”

I nodded, distracted. I couldn’t take my eyes off Paul. He looked younger and completely in his element. My brain couldn’t seem to absorb how a man who looked like he was molded to fit a business suit could look just as good in a pair of worn old jeans and a T-shirt.

Another guitar player arrived on stage and took his place in front of the microphone. His unruly black hair fell over dark eyes and his face was finely lined, but it added to his appeal.

“Oh my gosh, he’s hot!” Cate was still bouncing up and down beside me.

“Not bad at all,” Scarlett agreed, folding her arms and watching the stage.

Cate turned to her, excitement lighting her features. “I know. Wanna be groupies?”

Scarlett and I shook our heads at the same time, although I noticed Scarlett’s eyes were thoughtful. Uh oh.

The lead singer looked at the rest of the band, nodding to a silent beat. After a few more nods, a catchy guitar riff filled the crowded space. Cries of recognition danced over the heavy bass of the music. New tricks indeed. They were covering a Foals’ song – the band I’d told Paul I loved.

I watched in awe as Paul led the fast-paced riff, his fingers nimbly moving over the strings of the guitar I’d given him. His foot tapped in time to the beat and he looked completely absorbed in the rhythm of his playing.

Greg pounded away on the drums, looking like a big kid who’d discovered there was no place he’d rather be. The vocalist’s deep melody floated across the crowd, while the tune the bass player was pumping out enticed the bar patrons to jump up to dance by the stage.

As I watched, people I recognized filled the space, which was when I realized how distracted I’d been. There were people from Paul and Greg’s work, and Greg’s wife, with her oldest son. She waved at me from across the room.

“Come on Maddy, let’s dance!” Cate was tugging at my arm like an overexcited little girl.

I glanced around the rest of our group. Christa gave me a small smile and a short nod. I could tell she still hadn’t forgiven me, but clearly she’d been in on the surprise about the band.

Oh, what the hell, I thought. I was sick of feeling exhausted from the worry of everything. Seeing Paul up on stage was strangely energizing. I could worry some more about everything tomorrow, but for now I was going to enjoy his comeback.

I let Cate tug me to the dance floor. Her smile was contagious. Soon we were grinning at each other like idiots, swinging our bodies in time to the music.

Cate gestured toward the stage with a sly smile. “I think the guitar player has his eye on you.”

I looked up and met Paul’s playful gaze. He smiled broadly at me and my stomach clenched. I knew it had nothing to do with the baby and everything to do with the man I was desperately, irrevocably in love with.

“You know, I think you might be right,” I said. God, I was so screwed if he didn’t want this baby.

Cate giggled like a school girl and it lifted my spirits. I pushed my dark thoughts away, determined to enjoy myself.

As the night wore on, we made room for Scarlett, Christa and Max when they joined us on the dance floor. I swore Paul had deliberately chosen covers from bands he knew I liked: Coldplay, Temper Trap, Birds of Tokyo, along with some classics like INXS, The Rolling Stones and more I lost track of.

An hour and a half later, the singer announced it would be their last song of the night. When it was over, we all cheered and clapped like we were at a stadium concert, not a small pub in inner Sydney. The band stood and waved for a minute, thanking everyone for coming. When they stepped off the stage, Cate grabbed my arm.

“Come on. I want Paul to introduce me to the singer.”

So much for abstaining from men. I allowed her to tug me through the crowd. Now that the music had stopped and the lights were back on, the room felt as if it was closing in on me. People were pushing past us, going in all directions – to the toilet, the bar, the exit or in the direction of the band. We were jostled sideways by a group of tipsy women and Cate was forced to let go of my arm. I was taller than most people, so I saw Cate turn to me and mouth “sorry” apologetically. I shrugged and watched as she continued toward the band, who were being shouted drinks at the bar. I saw Paul searching the room for me and waved.

He smiled and I kept pushing my way toward him. I suddenly became conscious of how hot I felt. I’d been dancing for over an hour and I needed a drink of water. Scarlett was right to insist on keeping my fluids up, but I hadn’t thought to drink anything since before we’d started dancing. My mouth felt parched and it was hard to swallow.

“Oh shit.” A wave of nausea hit me. I’d had hints of it during the last couple of weeks, but nothing like this. I needed to find a bathroom. Now.

Peering across the top of the crowd, I located the women’s bathroom in the opposite corner to the bar and changed direction. I uttered a few cursory apologies as I shoved past people, my usual sense of propriety gone as I desperately hoped I wasn’t going to vomit everywhere.

I was about ten feet away when the nausea intensified. I swallowed, trying not to retch where I was as a wave of dizziness hit me. The room swayed and my vision blurred. A surge of adrenaline hit me, and in my panic I could feel my heart pounding wildly in my chest.

“Madeleine!”

I turned toward Paul, unsure what to do. The room swayed again and I stumbled into a man beside me. He was being pushed from behind by the group of people he was with and they washed past me like a life raft going in the other direction. Without another person’s body to prop me up, my knees buckled.

I heard Paul call out my name, louder this time, but he was still several feet behind me. No one else seemed to be paying attention to me or just assumed I’d had too much to drink.

My legs collapsed from underneath me and the floor rose to meet me with sickening speed.

When I came to, I was greeted by a tight circle of familiar faces staring down at me.

“Give her some space, will you?”

My friends and my brother stepped back reluctantly at Paul’s request.

Dazed, I eventually managed to meet Paul’s worried blue eyes. He was crouched beside me, cradling my head in his hands.

“Hi,” I said.

“Hi. What happened?” he asked softly.

It took me a moment to realize what he was talking about. “Too hot. I guess I overheated.”

Paul’s brow furrowed. “Did you eat anything tonight?”

“Uh,
yes
,” Cate piped up. “She ate a whole plate of wedges, plus a burger with the works.”

Thanks, Cate.
I pressed my elbows against the hard floor and attempted to push myself up. I did my best to ignore the fact it was sticky. My head pounded in protest at the movement and I winced.

“No rush.” Paul was watching me carefully. “How about I help you to sit up? Don’t try to stand just yet.”

I nodded, and allowed him to scoop me up gently with powerful forearms. As I was pulled to a sitting position, I felt the room sway and I groaned. Paul eased me back onto his chest, so I was resting against him.

“That’s some bump you’ve got there.” His breath brushed against my ear.

I stared at him in shock. My baby bump wasn’t that obvious yet, was it? Oh. He was looking at my face. I resisted the urge to place a hand on my stomach to see if everything was alright, and instead raised my fingers to my head. I discovered a large throbbing bump where my head had obviously connected with the floor. “Shit.”

“Excuse me, please!” A waitress rushed into our little circle. She crouched down and looked at me, then cringed when she saw my head. “Here.” She handed me an ice pack.

“Thank you.”

Paul helped raise it to my forehead. I bit back a sharp cry when the freezing cold connected with the throbbing bump.

The waitress stood and looked down at me sympathetically. “I’ve cleared a few lounges over near the bar for you. Take your time.”

Paul nodded his thanks, which was fortunate because I’d discovered moving my head was infinitely painful.

“How much did you have to drink?” he asked quietly. It wasn’t accusatory.

“She had two vodka lime sodas,” Cate said, ever helpful.

I risked a glance at Scarlett. She shrugged.

Paul frowned. “Vodka? That’s unusual for you.”

“It’s no worse than whiskey,” I managed.

That seemed to appease him. “Alright, tell me when you’re ready to move, okay? Does anything else hurt?”

My hip felt a bit sore, but I didn’t care about that. I was still desperately trying to figure out how I could make sure the baby was alright without making it too obvious. “I might have a bruise on my hip, but it doesn’t feel too bad. Okay, I’m ready.”

Paul moved into a crouching position and helped me to my feet. The room swayed for a second but fortunately righted itself pretty quickly. As we walked slowly toward the couches, Paul’s arm firmly around my waist, I remembered my parched mouth.

“Could someone please get me a drink of water?” I asked.

“I’ll get it,” Christa said, and rushed off. I was forgiven for now.

The rest of our group continued toward the lounge area. The other bar patrons moved out of our way politely, with nods of sympathy or reassuring smiles. God, what a mess.

We neared the couches. They looked as good as a mirage in the desert from where I was standing.

I heard a set of quick footsteps approach from behind and then a loud cry.

“Maddy!”

It was Christa. I didn’t bother to turn around. “What’s up?”

There was a long pause. “You’re bleeding.”

I reached up to touch my forehead again, confused.

“No. Your pants.”

I swung around to look at Christa. Wide blue eyes and a concerned, pale face confronted me. The room lurched. I shouldn’t have tried to move so quickly.

“Steady,” Paul cautioned.

I ignored him and looked down at my pants. I couldn’t see anything, so I twisted gingerly, my head still pounding, to look behind me. A small circle of deep red blood stained my pants and now that Christa had alerted me to it, I could feel wetness between my legs.

Nausea surged and I started to retch.

“Oh fuck,” I heard Scarlett announce. She thoughtfully presented someone’s used bowl of wedges.

I vomited into it, feeling too sick to care. My friends and other people nearby stepped back – repulsed as I would have been if I was watching on – but Paul’s arm remained around my waist. He swept my hair back with his free arm, narrowly avoiding chunks of my dinner. I dry retched a few more times after my dinner was gone and stifled a sob.

“We need to get her to a hospital.” Scarlett’s firm voice cut through my self-pity. “She’s pregnant and she might lose the baby.”

I heard Cate gasp and my brother swear.

“No,” I moaned, too scared to look at Paul.
Not like this
, was all I could think.

Paul’s grip tightened around my waist.

“Scarlett,” I hissed.

Her dark eyes were full of resolve. “Do you want to lose this baby?”

“
No!”
A wave of sobs wracked my body. Fear clutched at my heart and I was finding it hard to breath. I dared a look at Paul.

His face was pale, but his expression resolute. I saw nothing of the fear I knew was in my own eyes and another sob escaped. Even when I threw something of this magnitude in his direction, his perpetual calm prevailed. The pain in my chest intensified as I realized just how much I loved this man.

“Madeleine,” Paul said gently, and started leading me to an exit at the rear of the bar. “I’ve got my car here.”

I couldn’t reply because I was still struggling for air, but I managed to let him direct me to the exit. When the night air hit me I inhaled the fresh scent of summer gratefully.

Paul’s car was parked near the exit. He opened the passenger door while still holding me firmly, then lowered me carefully into the seat.

“My pants,” I protested.

“Forget it. It’s leather anyway.”

Could nothing break this man’s cool? Paul closed the door, came around to the driver’s side and started the engine. The Audi came to life with a low rumble. He wasted no time putting it into reverse and made an efficient three point turn before exiting the parking lot.

I looked down at my hands. They were shaking. Below them, I could see the stain of blood on my pants.

“Are you cramping?” Paul asked, his eyes on the road. He was darting in and out of traffic, but his actions remained calm and deliberate.

“A little,” I admitted. I’d put it down to the need to vomit, but I was starting to realize it was more than that. “It’s not too bad.”

He went silent while he focused on the surrounding traffic. It was Friday night in the inner city and the amount of cars and pedestrians swirling past us made me feel claustrophobic.

After accelerating through an orange light, Paul cleared his throat. “How far along are you?”

“Almost ten weeks.” I bit my lip, tears stinging my eyes.

He nodded and went silent again. I dared a look at him. His jaw was set firmly, the muscles in his cheek tense.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered.

He didn’t say anything, just kept his focus on the road and on getting us to the hospital. The silence in the car rested on me uneasily until we pulled into the parking lot of the hospital. Paul came around to open my door and guided me into the triage area. It only took us a few minutes, but it felt like forever.

At the window, a tired middle-aged woman watched us. “How can I help you?”

“My wife had a bad fall earlier and she’s nine weeks pregnant. She’s started bleeding and could be having a miscarriage.”

Wife?
I looked at Paul, but he was focused on the woman behind the counter.

She nodded, with just a hint of sympathy. “Are you registered with the maternity unit here?”

Paul looked over to me. “No,” I said. “I haven’t registered anywhere yet.”

She nodded again. “Do you have your Medicare card with you?”

I realized I’d left my handbag behind. “It’s back at the bar …”

The woman pushed some forms toward me. “That’s okay. Just take these and fill them out, then come back to the window,” she instructed.

I looked at her incredulously. I could be losing my baby and they were going to make me fill out forms? I looked at Paul desperately.

He squeezed my arm. “Come on.”

“But – ”

“It’s okay. Come on.”

Shocked and disorientated I let him lead me to the seating area. He took the forms off me and started filling them out.

I stared at him. “Are you serious?”

“I’ve been to emergency a few times when the boys have been sick. Trust them, they know what they’re doing. The best thing we can do is get your forms done so they can process you.”

He went back to writing down my details, while I continued to stare at him blankly. After another thirty seconds he handed the forms to me. “You need to check I’ve done it right, then sign and date it.”

Numbly, I took them from him and did as he instructed. When I was done, I handed them back. He stood and walked back over to the window and I watched as he spoke to the woman again, but I couldn’t hear what he was saying. After a moment, he came back to me, the forms still in his hand.

“We need to go across the road to the maternity unit,” he explained.

He helped me up and we made our way back out into the night. It took a couple of minutes to cross the busy road, but soon we were standing in the foyer of another hospital building. The off-white walls stared clinically back at me and I tried to ignore the scent of antiseptic.

“We’re going to level five.” Paul reached over and pressed the elevator button.

When we finally arrived on the fifth floor I was relieved to see the maternity area didn’t feel quite so clinical. An effort had been made to put some artwork up along the hallway walls and I caught the fresh fragrance of flowers. Paul led us to the reception desk and greeted the nurse.

The young midwife watched me as Paul relayed my story. She gave me a reassuring smile. “That’s quite a bump, Madeleine. You say you’ve had some bleeding since the fall?”

“Yes.”

“How much?”

I glanced down at my pants. “Not too much.”

“Okay. We’ll get you seen to as soon as possible.” She came around to the front of the reception desk. “Follow me.”

We followed her down the hall and into a vacant room. It didn’t appear to be a typical hospital room. All it had inside was a padded stretcher, a couple of chairs, and some unidentifiable machines.

“Hop up on the bed and relax, which is what you should be doing after a nasty fall like that anyway. If you need the bathroom, it’s just down the end of the hallway.” She gave me another reassuring smile. “Someone will be along soon.”

She glanced at Paul on the way out. “If she does need to go to the bathroom, I’d suggest you go with her,” the nurse advised.

Paul nodded, then turned to help me onto the bed. I lay down and stared at the ceiling, my head throbbing in time to my heartbeat. I heard Paul sigh and sit in the chair beside me.

“I’m sorry – ” I started.

“Madeleine.”

“No, I need to – ”

“Madeleine – ”

“I should have – ”

He reached over and gripped my arm firmly. “It’s not important right now.”

I closed my mouth and looked away. Tears formed in the corners of my eyes while I struggled with the implication of his words. Did he mean it wasn’t important right now because I might lose the baby? Surely not.

I heard Paul sigh again and he released his grip on my arm.

I wasn’t going to drop it. “You deserve an explanation.”

“Later.”

I turned to him, stung by his stubborn dismissal. The pounding in my head was like a hammer. Maybe if I finally said my thoughts out loud, the pain might go away. I met his blue eyes with a look of determination. His face looked pale and weary.

“You don’t want any more children,” I stated. “And I want this baby.”

“I’m not asking you to – ”

“Even if you did, I wouldn’t.”

“Well, what is there to talk about?”

I blinked, stunned. “The fact that you don’t want any more children.”

“
Of course I don’t want any more children!”
He jumped up and quickly looked away, a muscle in his jaw twitching. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, after a moment. “That came out wrong.”

I rolled over and stared at the wall. Sniffing, I closed my eyes tightly, a few tears escaping. I didn’t want him to see my face. My stomach clenched and I realized it wasn’t nausea this time. Anger and sorrow waged a war inside me, while fear throbbed in time to my rapid heartbeat. More tears ran down my cheeks, but I ignored them.

I reached down to place a hand on stomach. I wondered desperately if my baby was still alright inside me, because outside, my world was falling apart.