Baby Be Mine

says.
    ‘Don’t palm me off onto your PA, Johnny,’ I say crossly. ‘You contact me yourself with the details.’
    ‘Ooh, tetchy,’ he says annoyingly, and I detect a hint of amusement beneath his tone. But this isn’t funny.
    ‘I mean it,’ I add.
    ‘Okay, Nutmeg, I’ll text you later.’
    ‘Fine,’ I say, but he’s already hung up. Damn. He’s irritating like that.
    I walk back inside to see Christian leaning up against one of the countertops in the kitchen. His face is expressionless.
    ‘He’s coming on Friday,’ I tell him nervously.
    ‘Great.’ Sarcasm, obviously.
    ‘Are you going to be alright with this?’
    ‘Oh, I’m going to be dandy,’ Christian says, false-merrily.
    The nausea inside my stomach swirls a little more. I’ve been feeling sick incessantly and I can’t imagine how that will ever cease.
    Johnny’s PA books him into a chateau about an hour’s drive away; he’s planning on staying in France for four days. He comes to the house on Friday afternoon on the same motorbike as before. Was it really less than a fortnight ago that he was last here? It feels like an age.
    Christian has barely left Barney’s side all day. He’s with him in the pool when Johnny arrives. I’m on the terrace waiting. Again, I hear his motorcycle before I see it. This time he doesn’t stop at the bottom of the hill, but zooms around the corner and straight up to our driveway. He pulls in on the gravel and kicks down his foot-stand. I get up and lean over the wall as he climbs off his bike. He looks up at me as he pulls his helmet off, his hair damp with sweat. This is Johnny Jefferson, rock star, father of my child.
    ‘Alright?’ he says, unzipping his leather biker jacket. I can see his wet shirt from here.
    ‘Bit hot, are you?’
    ‘Fucking sweltering.’ He positions his helmet on his handlebars and climbs the terrace steps.
    ‘Where did you get your bike from?’
    ‘Brought it from LA on the jet.’
    Only in Johnny’s world . . .
    ‘Where’s Christian?’ he asks.
    ‘He’s in the pool with Barney.’
    He doesn’t attempt to hide his surprise. ‘He hasn’t gone out?’
    ‘No. He wanted to be here. Come inside,’ I motion towards the door and Johnny walks past me, removing his jacket and gloves as he goes.
    I know that Christian will have heard Johnny arrive, but he’s making no attempt to bring Barney to us. He’ll make us go to him, and who could blame him?
    ‘Have you spoken to Christian?’ I ask, even though I’m pretty sure I know the answer.
    ‘No,’ Johnny says.
    ‘Why not?’
    ‘What do you mean, why not?’ He frowns. ‘I don’t think he wants to talk to me, do you?’
    I shrug, faking nonchalance. ‘I don’t suppose you want to talk to him either, but it’s not about want, it’s about should. Have you even considered apologising?’
    He snorts. ‘“Sorry” ain’t gonna cut it.’
    ‘We’re not talking about the time you shagged his girlfriend – the other time,’ I correct myself, because he had sex with one of Christian’s girlfriends years ago, way before I came along. ‘You didn’t say sorry then, either, and it all blew over eventually. But not this time, Johnny. This time he deserves to hear it, even if he never wants to speak to you again.’
    He regards me curiously. ‘I didn’t think he’d forgive you.’
    ‘Neither did I,’ I say honestly. ‘Anyway, he hasn’t, yet. I don’t know if he ever will, but we’re trying to get through it.’
    I hear Barney squealing hysterically. Johnny looks at me quickly.
    ‘Is that him?’
    ‘Yes.’
    He shifts from foot to foot.
    ‘You’re nervous,’ I say, oddly fascinated by the realisation.
    He shrugs, but doesn’t answer. A minuscule wave of sympathy crashes inside me.
    ‘Come on.’
    I lead the way out onto the terrace and down the steps, turning right towards the pool. We can hear Christian’s deep voice behind the gate and when I push it open, the wood screeching loudly across the stone, we see Christian drying Barney off at the poolside with a blue and white striped towel. He glares at Johnny before turning his attention back to Barney. My little blond-haired, green-eyed boy glances at his biological father and then looks at me and grins a toothy grin.
    ‘Did you have fun in the pool?’ I ask him brightly, intensely aware of Johnny’s presence beside me.
    Barney pulls away from Christian and stands, wobbling on the spot, with his arms opened out to me. I whisk him up and