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When he had received a text message from Lily to say that she would like to meet up, his heart had leapt at the appearance of her name on the screen of his phone alone. He knew he had no right to hope, shouldn’t feel even remotely optimistic – she had broken up with him for a very, very good reason and he had deserved nothing less – but he was a greedy, daydreaming fool.
Now, sitting in the café she had asked to meet him at – terribly early, because he just couldn’t stay in his and Sirius’ apartment anymore, his anxiety and excitement eating at him – he felt his optimism crumble by the minute. For all he knew, she would arrive and tell him to fuck off, get out of her life, never send her an email again, never so much as look or breathe in her direction. He had tried the latter, of course. Had worked hard to make sure she felt safe and comfortable in her place of work. He knew he had already made her life unnecessarily difficult. He was not going to make it even worse by harassing her at Phoenix Radio.
He ran a hand through his hair. He had taken some pains to make it look decent before he had left his apartment, but at this moment he seemed to have forgotten all about it.
That’s when she walked in. She looked so beautiful – but then again, that much wasn’t a surprise – that he found it impossible to look away from her. She hadn’t seen him yet, looked around carefully, slowly, as she unwrapped her scarf from where it sat around her neck. She was radiant, her movements so delicate, so measured.
Her eyes fell on his and she froze for a second before ducking her head and making her way towards him. His leg bounced up and down and when she stopped in front of the table he was at, he said: “Hey.”
He could swear he used to be smooth, but all velvety ease he had once possessed seemed to have evaporated in that instance.
“Hi,” she replied. He contemplated getting up from his seat, pulling out her chair for her, like the gentleman his mother had raised him to be, but before he could even finish that thought, she had already moved to take her chair out herself.
For a minute, he let himself imagine they were on a date, meeting up to have a cup of coffee, a cup of tea. He imagined they would hold hands on top of the table, laughing, their heads bent towards one another. He could see himself lifting her hand, pressing a kiss against her knuckles, a tiny smile pulling at the corner of her lips. If only, he thought, if only I hadn’t destroyed any chance I had of being with her for real. He wondered if it was karma. If this was some form of punishment. It was certainly his idea of purgatory to sit down across from her, unable to show her the affection he so clearly felt for her, that he so longed to express.
She took a deep breath, placed her hands on the table, folded them together, perfectly poised. However, she seemed restless all the same.
“Thank you for meeting me,” she told him, meeting his gaze head-on. The emerald of her eyes was nearly hypnotic.
“Of course,” he said. “Thank you for inviting me here.” What does it mean that you did? He wanted to add, but he wisely kept his mouth shut. She didn’t owe it to him to answer anyway. Or perhaps he didn’t want to know the answer. Maybe he simply wasn’t ready to hear what she would say to that for fear of having her admit to him that she never wanted to see him again and could he really blame her if she would?
“So,” she interrupted his train of thought, “we need to talk.”
That sounded promising, he thought, and he felt his head nod of its own accord. “We do,” he answered, “but before you say anything can I please just –” he closed his eyes, feeling frustrated with himself. Where would he even start? “I want to apologize for hurting you, for not being honest with you at all times –”
“I know,” she didn’t let him finish, a strangely serene smile appearing on her face. “I know how sorry you are.” He ran one of his hands through his hair, his fingers tugging at the ends of it. “I didn’t ask you to come here, because I wanted or expected an apology.”
“But I want to give it to you!” The words rushed out of him, like a waterfall. “There is nothing I regret more than ruining what we had, because I am the one that caused us to crash and burn and I’ll never forgive myself for it.” He meant it too. He hated himself for what he had done.
She sighed. “Don’t be too hard on yourself, James. You can't carry the weight of the world. You can't always expect the best of yourself.”
He guffawed. “How can I not? How can I not hate myself for what I have done?” He could hear the emotion in his own voice, but he didn’t let it throw him off course. Instead, he decided to just go with it. Perhaps, he thought, if I just throw it out there again, she’ll believe me and we can try to make it work. His best version of himself, the one he liked best, had been the one he had been with her: “I love you, Lily.” It was difficult to breathe. The anticipation killed him. Perhaps it was best if she shot him down now.
Her face, however, was sympathetic. “You know I love you too, James.” Clearly, this wasn’t the end of it, though. He did not feel euphoric as she told him exactly what he wanted to hear. For he knew what she planned to say next. He had heard the words she had uttered before over and over in his head over the past few weeks.
So, he decided to finish the sentence for her: “But that doesn’t mean it works, I know,” he couldn’t keep the bitterness out of his voice, feeling incredibly frustrated with himself. “And I’m the one responsible for it.”
She seemed terribly uncomfortable for a moment. “Don’t shoulder the burden of all of this all by yourself,” she said. “I’m equally responsible for the implosion.” He opened his mouth to argue with her that she most certainly wasn’t responsible for any of it at all, but the shake of her head made him bite back his words. “It’s like we said all those weeks ago when we recorded the podcast about the end of our fake relationship: you care too much and I’m too insecure. It’s not completely your fault nor is it completely mine.”
He scoffed. “I can’t say I agree with you completely.” Actually, he didn’t agree with her at all. He took a moment to calm himself down and then shook his head at the ridiculousness of the situation, a grimace appearing on his face. “But don’t you just hate that we managed to predict the end of our relationship?”
Her laugh tinkled, his heart racing at the sound of it. “Yeah,” she agreed, “it is certainly ironic.”
The corners of his lip lifted as he slowly shook his head. “We could give Sybil a run for her money.”
“Yeah,” she said, sitting up a little straighter, “about that, actually…”
It was too painful. He couldn’t stay seated in front of her. It was too much. He had to get up and do something or he’d go insane. So, he nearly propelled himself out of his seat as he blurted out: “Do you want a cup of tea?” He had startled her, so he eyed her feeling somewhat abashed. “I’m sorry,” he added. “I just realized I didn’t ask earlier and that you’ve been sitting here without anything to drink or eat.” He should have thought about that before, actually. He had just been so preoccupied. His brain only able to focus on her physical presence, one that he had so craved in the weeks past. He was a man in the desert, so desperately thirsty.
“I’m fine,” she sounded tense.
He was already halfway out of his seat. “I’ll get you something anyway,” he stupidly told her, pushing himself up on his feet. “I’ll be back in a second, okay? I promise this is not some sort of ploy to keep you here longer than you want to be.” Of course, I wouldn’t mind if you do spend more time with me. If it means that I can bask in your presence, in your eternal sunshine a little longer. “You can leave whenever, honest -”
“James,” her voice was loud, too loud for polite conversation in a café. He noted how several people around them halted their movements and so did he. He froze in place, eyes wide. She flushed. “I’m sorry,” she muttered, “I just –” he turned back towards her, “we probably need to figure out how to move forward.”
That made him pause. How to move forward? He gaped at her and then felt his cheeks heat up. “Oh, right.” He swallowed hard. “I’d like that, actually… moving forward.” I can’t believe you want to.
His heart beat frantically in his chest. He didn’t deserve any of it, of course, but he wasn’t about to reject her based on his own personal guilt if she wanted to progress and perhaps make up. Had his email and the screenshots he attached convinced her that he was still worth a shot? Did she believe that he was well and truly over Ishani? That – to be honest – there hadn’t been anyone for him but her in the past seven years since he first met her? Despite all the mistakes he had made? And, yes, there were many and he regretted every single one of them. You are the love of my life, he thought as he looked at her. Or, as her well-loved Mr Darcy said in the 2005 version of Pride and Prejudice: “You have bewitched me, body and soul.” Wasn’t that the truth of it?
He was so lost in his thoughts that he nearly missed what she asked him next: “Do you remember,” she sounded a little hesitant, “the episode we did with Sybil Trelawney?”
He felt terribly confused. “Of course, I do,” he answered, frowning slightly. I remember everything we did together. “What does that have to do with anything?”
All of a sudden, she seemed terribly tense, determinedly looking away from him. “It turns out,” she paused for a moment, “that Sybil may actually have some sort of sixth sense.” Her eyes met his again. He felt puzzled, unsure as to why that episode so many months ago now was of any significance at all. “Remember that she told me I would be pregnant by the end of the year?” Wait, what? His mind buzzed, his eyebrows raised, he suddenly felt nauseous. “Well,” she seemed almost amused, “it turns out I am.
His heart stopped. His brain froze. He could no longer feel his hands, didn’t even know if he still had them. It felt as though he was having some outer-body experience. As if he was in some candid camera show and someone was playing a practical joke on him. He would suspect Sirius, but he didn’t think his best friend was that cruel.
“What?” he sounded hoarse. “Lily, I –” he couldn’t fathom what she was saying. It just didn’t make any sense at all. It was like she had spoken a different language than their mother tongue altogether. “– what?”
Their eyes locked once more, his hazel ones meeting her candid emeralds. “James,” she said, “I’m pregnant.”
Her words turned his world upside down. He was on the edge of a cliff – perhaps it was that cliff where they had kissed for the second time, that moment he had thought that he had it all, that he would never let her go – looking down, wondering if he should jump.
He remembered the times they had been together. The way she had looked underneath him, the way she had felt, the way she had made him feel. He remembered coming undone, her hands on the back of his neck, his chest, her legs wrapped around him, kisses pressed against his jaw, encouraging words whispered in his ear.
He stared at her in disbelief, his eyes wide as he took her in, noting the serious expression on her face. And then, realising what all of this meant, he muttered: "Well, fuck."
He was going to be a father.
She was going to be a mother.
They were going to be parents.
He had knocked up Lily Evans.