I Learnt To Love In Liverpool | George Harrison ✅

♥ 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐲-𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞 ♥

Paul and I sat in comfortable silence on the way to the hospital, which was a drive of less than ten minutes. He held my hand the entire way, moving both of our hands when he had to change gears and driving with one hand on the wheel the entire time.

He pulled up outside and killed the engine, turning to me. "Are you nervous, Em?"

"No." I told him honestly. "I-I think I'm ready for this -"

Paul clutched tightly at my hand, causing my crystal blue eyes to meet his doe brown ones.

"Do you know w-whose it is?"

I bit my lip, shaking my head slowly. "George and I..." I didn't even know what to say.

I was a whore.

I had slept with two men, and now I was pregnant and either of them could be the father.

"It doesn't matter, y'know," my brother said, shocking me back to reality. I hadn't expected him to assure me of that. I had expected him to be angry that I had fucked around - and I expected him to be angry because of the problems which my pregnancy would cause in the band once John and George found out. "Because," Paul said, elaborating on his earlier statement, "as long as they've got a mother that loves them, and their uncle Paul, they'll be fine."

I smiled, throwing my arms around him. A few tears escaped, but I managed to keep most of them back. After we had had our moment, we got out of the car and made our way into the hospital.

* * * * *

"Well, Miss McCartney," the doctor said, "I can confirm that you are indeed pregnant." I looked to Paul, who was sitting beside the bed which I was lying on, my shirt pulled up to the bottom of my breasts. He offered me a kind, excited smile.

It looked like he was as excited as I was.

"Thank you, doctor," I said politely, "that is good news."

The doctor smiled, "congratulations, then. Please schedule an appointment with the receptionist for the beginning of March, and we'll see how you're getting along." I nodded.

"How far along do you think I am?"

"No more than a few weeks, maybe three?" The doctor paused, "the fetus is very small at the moment. I'm surprised that you have had any symptoms at all, to be honest. Most women don't realise that they're pregnant until they're well into their second month."

I didn't know whether it was a good thing or a bad thing that it was John's baby. Was I happy that it was his, and not George's?

"Come on, Em," Paul said. I was brought back to reality once again by my brother, who was tugging gently on my hand. I nodded and let him help me off the bed. I pulled my shirt down to cover my belly and then smiled at the doctor, silently thanking him once more.

On the way out of the hospital, we made an appointment for early March as the doctor had instructed, and then went to the car.

"So it's John's, then?" Paul said as soon as the doors were closed. I nodded, biting my lip. "Are you happy 'bout that?"

"I don't know, Paulie." I said quietly, "I've got a lot to think about."

"It's okay, y'know, Em -"

I turned to look at him, tears falling silently down my face. "It's not, Paul." I whimpered, "I'm a whore. I'm a no-good, husband-stealing, backstabbing whore."

I saw Paul's heart break through his eyes, but he didn't say anything immediately. Instead, he took me into his arms and held me tightly, kissing the top of my head what felt like a thousand times before he whispered, "you're not, Em. You're not. You're not. You're not. You're not a whore. You're not any of those awful things. You're my little sister, and in your belly is my little niece or nephew, and I love them and I love you, and I'll always be around for you both, and to remind you what an amazing mum you're goin' to be."

I was now sobbing fitfully. I loved my brother with all my entire heart and soul.

"Paulie?" I sniffled, sitting up and pulling out of his arms. I looked at the front of his shirt, now stained with my tears and probably soaking him through to the bone, but he didn't care. He waited for me to continue speaking. "I love you, and um, thank you -"

"Anything -"

"But I have to ask that you don't tell John about this - or George," I added after only a moment's hesitation. "I know it's a lot to ask, and unreasonable, but -"

"I won't tell a soul." Paul promised. He looked at me and gave me an encouraging smile, "come on - let's get you home and into bed, you look like you're exhausted."