Charlotte Delaney has sworn off men. After one relationship disaster after another- including turning a guy gay!- Charlotte is so over the male species.
Isaac Fletcher had his heart cruelly broken. Yes, it was years ago. No, he never got over it. I...
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Today is St. Patrick's Day. A day for all Irish people across the world to celebrate their heritage and get absolutely shit-faced. It was also, unfortunately, the day when my entire family descended on the same place at the same time to interrogate us all about our lives. Even my grandparents were flying in from Dublin to celebrate the 'holiday', especially as it was my turn to host the annual event.
It had been a while since I'd seen or spoken to my grandparents and they would naturally be curious about my relationship status. Although, I wasn't sure how I could even begin to explain to them my situation with Isaac. They'd be bitterly disappointed to learn that I'm pregnant, and possibly slightly ashamed that I got knocked up out of wedlock. Which brings us to the other thing. Marriage. Knowing my grandmother, she'd insist that Isaac and I marry so that the baby is legitimate. Although, since he'd told me all about his relationship with his ex-girlfriend, Alyssa Campbell, I was almost sure that Isaac wasn't interested in pursuing anything romantic with me.
Nevertheless, I'd spent the entire week mentally preparing myself for today. My flat isn't that big but seeing as we'd only be here for a few hours of pre-drinking drinking, it would do. Sam and I had planned everything and had dressed the place last night, which made this morning a sort of otherworldly experience. Wandering into the living area to see a sea of green at every turn was disconcerting, although, the more I looked at it, the more amusing it was. There were pots of gold, rainbows and leprechauns everywhere! We'd stocked up on all sorts of snacks, too, and made sure that we had more than enough Guinness and whisky to keep everyone hydrated. Knowing my family, no amount of booze would be enough to quench their thirst today.
Thankfully, La Petite Pâtisserie did not venture into the realms of St. Patrick's Day. There was nothing green decorating the place and I didn't have Sam following me around, constantly repeating, 'Whale oil beef hooked.' In his mind, when he said it really fast, he was practically saying, 'Well, I'll be fucked' in an Irish accent. It really wasn't that impressive, especially when Sam sounded more Scottish than Irish. Amusing but not impressive.
When I arrived back at the flat to prepare for tonight, Sam's impression of an Irishman wasn't any better than it had been this morning. Ignoring him, I double checked that everything was ready and quickly went to change.
My body shape was changing and my stomach area was now more prominent compared to even yesterday. I could no longer blame it on water retention; no, this was the baby growing. It did, however, present me with a list of problems, not least that I wouldn't be able to hide the bump much longer. Isaac and I had agreed that we would keep the pregnancy a secret for a little while longer, at least until I was past the twelve-week stage and entering the second trimester. I swore Sam to secrecy, too. In the meantime, though, I've been buying new clothes that would skim over my abdomen area, including the green pleated cami dress that I'd ordered from ASOS.
It was loose over my stomach and floated enough that it wouldn't cling. I styled my hair into messy curls and pinned it at the nape of my neck, applied the slightest hint of make-up and wore a pair of rose gold and Swarovski chandelier earrings to add a bit of sparkle. I grabbed a pair of heels that matched my earrings and padded back out to the kitchen, meeting Sam at the makeshift bar he'd set up on the counter.
