Chapter Text
A clap of thunder echoed throughout the sky the moment her alarm went off, almost as a sign. Part of her wants to run and hide under a table, something she knows is irrational, but she can’t help it. For a moment, she debates what’s worse, the thunder, or the test result(s), there were five different brands.
Taking a deep breath, she flips over the first test, clear blue.
+
She knows that she should be pleased, she’s always wanted to be a mum, as well as having a great career helping people, making the world a better, fairer, place. This was what she dreamed of as a little girl, when she was playing dolls after Mary had come back from a long shift as a junior doctor. She’d tell Kate that she could be whatever she wanted. She’d responded with she wanted to help people and be a mummy.
At first, she’d thought she wanted to be a doctor, but watching her dad get sick, she knew she couldn’t do that. She’d decided as she was choosing her A-Level options that she wanted to be an MP, to make a difference. She’d worked hard, achieved a place at Oxford to study PPE. There, she’d met people that opened doors, and she’d made her way to be the labour MP of Lewisham East. She adored her job, feeling like she was making a real difference to the people of Lewisham, or when she went to PMQ’s on a Wednesday. She’d never felt prouder than when she asked her first question.
Realistically, she knew that being a mum now, wasn’t a good idea. She knew that she was busy, and bringing a baby into her life wasn’t necessarily fair. As she stared at the test, she knew that she probably wouldn’t have any support from her baby’s father (baby dad just didn’t sit right with her, and sperm donor seemed a bit harsh).
The whole situation was such a mess, she’d been sad, needing a shoulder to cry on and he had been there. She’d gone to the pub after a tough day in parliament, with an amendment that got struck down by the opposition, trying to bring equality into schools. He’d sat their listening to her moaning, raising his eyebrows at the correct time and making sympathy noises, acting like he was genuinely listening.
He’d then brought her a cocktail, sitting in one of the booths at the back of the pub, making her laugh. She noticed his hand slowly inch up her leg. She could have said no, she should have said no. But, an hour later, she was in the back of a cab on a way to his house in Mayfair.
She didn’t remember much of his house, other than the under-floor heating, and that his bedsheets were blue. Oh, and that he had a headboard on his bed, unlike some of the men she’d shagged in her early twenties.
And it had been brilliant, he’d been very attentive and it annoyed her that he was so good. He was a twat with some questionable views, and she knew that no man would ever be able to compare to the performance he gave her.
Not only had he knocked her up, but he’d also ruined sex for her, because she’d never had such mind blowing sex. Not that there had been anyone since.
He’d been very clear that this was a one off, and she hadn’t argued. She’d left as they woke up, stopping off at the boot’s pharmacy for plan b. He’d offered her a t-shirt, and some jogging bottoms, so she didn’t look so professional on her walk of shame.
End of.
Except it wasn’t, the two lines on the test in front of her told her it wasn’t.
Shit.
-Bridgerton-
It took her over a week to email him, as it turns out she didn’t have his number.
She’d spent hours pacing around her living room, on the phone to Mary crying. She’d try to soothe her, telling her it was okay, that he’d be a decent human being.
On (what she hopes was) an empty threat from Mary about coming into parliament, she brought up the courage of emailing him, although it was a risky move because she’s not even sure he knew her name, being just another notch in the bedpost.
From: [email protected]
Subject: December briefing
Hi Anthony,
Can we talk, I don’t have your number, but we need to talk, preferably not at work.
Thanks,
Kate
R/T Hon Kathani Sharma MP
They’d met up the following Saturday afternoon, she’d given him her address, she knew his house was bigger, and possibly nicer, but she honestly didn’t fancy the trip to Mayfair. This pregnancy had been tough on her, she spent her whole time either being so tired she couldn’t get up, or she was clinging to the toilet bowl for dear life.
“I’m pregnant” she’d announced, barely letting the door close behind him. She knew that if she didn’t come out with it straight away, she’d never tell him.
He’d stood their stunned, looking at her for a moment, his mouth opening, but nothing coming out.
“It’s yours, it’s embarrassing to admit, but I’d not slept with anyone in a few months, and I’ve not since.” She’s not entirely sure why she tells him this, but its something he should know, maybe to verify the authenticity of her claim.
“It can’t be” he hisses, finally becoming aware of his surroundings, “I used a condom, you said you took the morning after pill.”
“And I did, it happens.”
“Do you want money for an abortion?”
“I’m sorry?” She stares at him, “do I want what?”
“I’ll pay, if you do.”
“What are you on about?”
“The abortion?”
“That is not happening” she tells him, shaking her head slightly. For a moment, she’d thought that he’d be decent about this, he was in his thirties, surely a mature conversation would be possible. She should be thrilled he’s pro-choice, but he’d not even listened to her when she told him. She’d planned a whole speech, and then it just came out.
“I want a DNA test then” he hits back, before she has time to think, slightly disorientated.
“Which we will get, I can get one from about 7 weeks, which I will. There literally hasn’t been anyone but you, but if his Lordship wants it, he’ll get it.”
“I don’t want to be a dad, never have, never want to,”
“Which is fine with me.”
“Why am I here then?”
“I thought you might want to know” she shrugs, “rather than bumping into me in parliament when I’m obviously pregnant.”
“Why are you so calm?”
“I’m not, but what’s the point of getting wound up? It’s not going to change anything.”
“Did you plan this?”
“Jesus Christ Anthony. If you don’t want the baby, that is fine. It was not planned, I took the pill, I’m sure I have the transaction on my online banking if you don’t trust me. I don’t need anything from you; I was trying to be decent human being and giving you a heads-up. All I’d really hoped you’d agree to being on the birth certificate, for the baby’s sake more than anyone, so that when they’re older, they know where they came from.”
“No.”
“Fine then, don’t do it.” She crosses her arms over her chest like a petulant toddler, almost wanting to poke her tongue out at him.
“I’m going.”
“Okay, shut the door on the way out please.”
-Bridgerton-
Four weeks later, he is back in her living room, where she handed him the unopened envelope.
“Just in case you think I doctored them, I have them on my email too.”
“Kate…”
“What?” She shrugs, as he rips open the letter, watching as his face pales, “I told you it’s yours, do as you please with it.”
“Do you want child support? I’ll be on the birth certificate.”
“Don’t martyr yourself about it, I don’t want money. I don’t want anything from you.”
“I’m sorry” he offers, “it was a big shock, and I wasn’t feeling well, I overreacted.”
“I’m glad you’ll be on my baby’s birth certificate” she offers him a sad smile, “but I want nothing to-do with you.”
“Which is fine with me.”
-Bridgerton-
“What’s got you in such a mood brother?” Benedict questions, watching as his brother necks his drink, “you’ve not spoken much tonight, even for you.”
“Nothing.”
“You can fool everyone but me.”
“It’s nothing.”
“I’ll get mum involved, telling her that you need help.”
“You wouldn’t.”
“You want to risk it?”
“Oh fine, for fuck’s sake, I got someone preg-” he starts, “what the fuck Colin?” He shouts, frantically trying to find a napkin or something to wipe up the beer his brother has just dropped.
“I’m sorry, I wasn’t expecting that” he apologises, setting the glasses down, “you’re going to be a dad?”
“You didn’t tell me you were seeing someone?”
“No, I’m not. She’s done a DNA test, it’s mine.”
“Can we meet this lady?”
“No” he shakes his head, “I’m not seeing her, and I’m having nothing to-do with it.”
“It? You’d be a great dad.”
“I wouldn’t.”
“You are the only dad Hyacinth has ever know, and Greg was too little to remember him.”
“I’m not playing dad” he shrugs.
“Enlighten me brother, I’ll leave off it, if you tell me where you met a woman who has your number – you never give your number out.”
“She doesn’t.”
“How did she contact you?”
“We work together, sort of.”
“Do HR need to be involved?”
“No, it’s not that work.”
“In the Lords? Aren’t they all old.”
“No.”
“Jesus, Ant, you slept with an MP.”
“I didn’t mean for it to happen?”
“What did you just slip and fall into her? Happens to us all.”
“Why are you even here?” He sighs, rubbing his temples, “I’m not wanting to be a dad, and I don’t want a baby.”
“Who was it?”
“I’m not telling you that.”
“Who is it?”
“Ben.”
“We won’t tell mum, if you tell us.”
“Kate Sharma.”
“The one Eloise works with?”
“Fuck.”