Baby Be Mine

down beside each other.
    ‘So what do you think of Dana?’ he asks.
    ‘She’s nice,’ I reply.
    ‘You said you wouldn’t lie to me again.’
    ‘Hmm . . .’
    ‘She has a good heart,’ he says. I don’t know why he’s trying to convince me. ‘You’ll get to like her.’
    Another swig, another drag on his cigarette. I take a deep breath. The night air is warm and the scent of pine trees mingles with the smell of Johnny’s smoke. The lights of the city blink and twinkle in the haze and far away a police car whizzes around the bends on a hill, its sirens blazing. A cricket chirps in the undergrowth. Johnny scratches at his stubble and gazes sideways at me before straddling the bench seat and facing me full-on.
    ‘You’re different,’ he says.
    ‘Am I?’ I change position so I’m also facing him. ‘In what way?’
    ‘More confident. You’re not blushing like a schoolgirl with every word I say.’
    I take a drink and raise one eyebrow at him.
    ‘Only every second word,’ he corrects himself.
    ‘Bugger off.’ I kick his leg.
    ‘There,’ he says. ‘You see? More confident. I’m serious!’ he insists when I roll my eyes.
    I rest my elbow on the table and prop my head against my hand. Thinking about it, he’s right. I’m no longer just his PA, an employee who fell in love with him. I can no longer be accused of being the same as all those nameless groupies. I’m the mother of his child. We are forever tied to each other. I guess that thought gives me comfort – and security, in a weird kind of way. That’s why I’m more relaxed. He might be one of the world’s most famous people, but he’s also just a man. A parent. And in that respect, at the very least, we’re equals.
    He takes another swig and stares across at me. The way he’s looking at me is starting to make me feel a little funny. I take another drink myself, but don’t break eye contact.
    ‘Do you ever think about that day?’ he asks.
    ‘What day?
    ‘London, two years ago.’
    He doesn’t say ‘Christian’s house’, but I know what he’s talking about. The last time we slept together.
    I nod and he lights up another cigarette, scrutinising me. The alcohol has made him more blatant. It’s making me feel warm and fuzzy and somewhere, deep inside, I know this is a bad thing, but I don’t want him to stop looking at me. I want to go to bed with him.
    Meg! What the hell are you thinking?
    He jolts suddenly and reaches into his pocket for his vibrating phone, and like a bombed submarine, my heart sinks.
    Dana . . .
    ‘Hey,’ he says into the receiver, looking away from me. ‘Just having a drink with Meg.’
    He never calls me Nutmeg in front of her. I wonder if she has a nickname. I haven’t heard him use one.
    ‘No, we’re outside on the terrace,’ he says. ‘Sure.’ Pause. ‘Okay, see you in a bit.’
    He hangs up.
    ‘Dana?’ Although I know I don’t have to ask.
    ‘On her way over,’ he says.
    The bubbles go flat. What a waste of good champagne.
    I yawn. ‘Well, I’m knackered.’ I don’t want to see Dana, not at the best of times, but definitely not when I’ve been thinking dirty thoughts about her boyfriend.
    Johnny gets up and follows me inside, stubbing out his fag in one of the tall steel cylindrical ashtrays on his way past.
    ‘See you tomorrow,’ I say, not looking back as I head towards the stairs.
    ‘Nutmeg,’ he calls and I turn reluctantly to face him. He’s standing there in the middle of the room, clutching a half-empty bottle of whisky. His eyes are intense, even from this distance, and he looks hurt, like he’s in pain. Suddenly I want to run to him, to throw my arms around him, to kiss him, but I don’t. My feet stay rooted to the spot.
    ‘I’m glad you’re back,’ he says in a gruff voice.
    I nod, and then I turn and walk up the stairs.

 
  Chapter 31  
    I wake up early the next morning and glance across at the monitor. Barney has just started to stir. We’re both still jet-lagged. I climb out of bed and drag on my dressing gown, then go to the bathroom to take two Ibuprofen. My head hurts. That’ll teach me to drink champagne on a practically empty stomach. I stand there in the bathroom for a while, remembering my conversation with Johnny last night. I hate that I still have feelings for him. Bess was right: it’s my heart that’s the problem.
    It’s a bright sunny day and even though there’s a chill in the air, after breakfast I decide to take Barney for a