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It's six-thirty the next morning when I decide it's the time to phone the number I've saved into my phone since I came home from Gem's yesterday. They're just eleven numbers, but for some reason, every time I've looked at them and how I've saved his number as Lucas on my phone, it feels like a hot potato I need to throw somewhere else.

But this time, I press the call button and put it to my ear.

It begins ringing; it's not a fake number! For some reason, I really began worrying he'd fobbed me off and didn't want to speak to me ever again.

It takes six rings before someone picks up. "Hello?" Lucas' voice answers. He sounds the same as he did two weeks ago – again, I don't know why he wouldn't. Maybe it's because I imagine him to be too good to be true.

"Hi, Lucas? It's me, Mila, from a couple of weeks ago," I mumble.

He takes a moment, but I hear a hitch of breath and maybe him moving somewhere. I'm not sure. Is that a good thing or a bad thing? Again, not quite sure. But what I do know is that merely knowing he's on the other end of the phone is bringing back all sorts of fluttering memories from that night.

Maybe this could be a good thing, like Gem said.

"Hi, Mila," he finally responds.

"Hey. Uh, how're you?"

He chuckles, and I imagine him running a hand through his hair. That soft smirk he gave, and the way he'd whisper filthy curses in my ear as we were going—

Man, I'm horny. Is it the hormones?

"Good, thanks. It's been a couple of weeks. You okay, Peach?" Lucas asks.

"Is now a bad time? I kinda wanted to ask you something," I mention. "And tell you something."

He takes a second, but then breathes. "No, now is fine. What's up? I kind of wanted you to call. I'm visiting soon—" He stops.

"That's actually a good thing. I, uh, could do with seeing you actually," I stammer. Why is this so damn difficult?

I suppose this is totally life changing; one minute we were having fun in the club and then two weeks later bam and there's this human growing inside me. Well, right now it's a clump of cells but it will grow into a human in either option I'm looking at right now. Then I have to push it out or get it sliced out of me—

This is awkward.

"Are you asking me out on a date, there, Peach? 'Cause you can just ask outright, you know?" he jokes with a small laugh to his voice.

"Sort of? I think? I don't know. Uh, Lucas, this is so fucking awkward. Oh my god," I whisper.

"Do you need money? A place to stay? What's going on? Or is that Brayden guy giving you trouble, 'cause I can come down and sweep you off your feet again—"

"Lucas, I'm pregnant," I blurt.

Oh, holy shit, that is not how I wanted to tell him. Fuck.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

There's a silence on the other end of the phone.

"Lucas—"

"I..." His voice trails off before he sighs.

Silence.

"Holy shit," Lucas whispers.

"Um, uh, I'm really sorry. I just... I thought you should know, you know? I didn't realise until yesterday and I didn't know what to do—"

"Peach, Peach, you're fine. I'm not... it's very complicated. Very, very complicated, actually."

I arch an eyebrow before realising that he can't actually see me do it. "Why? I mean, obviously, it's not ideal because we aren't together, and it's not ideal for me right now anyway, but like, I don't see this being complicated. We can sort something out, between us, or—"

He interrupts me when I have to breathe. "It's nothing like that. Look, uh, I'm currently in London. I can be there in an hour or so to discuss this—" He stops, and there's another voice muttering on the other end of the phone. "Okay, okay. Um, Mila, I can be there for lunch time. I have something to do this morning."

What the fuck is going on?

"I, uh, okay, but why?" There's an awkwardness to my voice, and I hate it, but at the same time, the thought of seeing him again is bringing a fluttering to my chest.

"It's best we discuss it face to face, all right? This is complicated, for a reason I'd rather tell you about when we see each other."

A sigh comes out of my mouth, and when I look down, I notice I'm pulling at a loose thread in my pyjamas I didn't even know was there before. It won't snap off, and I need it to.

Somehow, in my mind, I had this fantasy where he would come over, scoop me up and we'd live happily ever after, like in a Disney film. That's the ideal, isn't it? But life hardly ever works out that way, and I suppose this is sounding like one of those times.

"This is the moment where you tell me you're a married family man, isn't it? You pay me off to have an abortion or something to keep your wife happy?" I say it with a small laugh, but it's not even funny. Knowing my luck, that's exactly what's going to happen.

Lucas laughs. "No, actually, nothing like that. I promise. But I think it'll be best if I come and visit you this afternoon. Just send me your address again, so I have it."

"Uh, sure. Is that it, then?" I ask.

"Peach, I know I sound abrasive right now, but I'm in the middle of work, and it's also a very... complicated shock. I'll explain more later, okay? But I really have to go. I'm not going to force you to do anything, but we'll talk more this afternoon."

"Okay, sure. I'll send it now."

We say an awkward goodbye to each other before I send him my address. If he's not married with kids, and he's not going to try to persuade me into an abortion or anything, then what the heck could be complicated about this?

He texts back quickly: 'be there about lunchtime, Peach. I'll message when I'm on the way. Don't panic about it, okay? It's just... complicated.'

I guess the only solution is to wait until he comes over later. But one thing is for sure, the next time he mentions it being complicated, I will slap him. Whatever this complication is, it better be worth all this drama; there's enough going inside my stomach right now.

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The car outside is an Aston Martin brand – I never know the minute details of them – in black, and there is one Land Rover behind it, which doesn't fit in to the aesthetic quite right. I can see two burly looking men in the two front seats, but none of them make a move to get out.

My eyes immediately furrow. This can't be Lucas, despite it being lunch time. This has got to be one of the neighbours, or for them, or something. I know the elderly couple a couple of flats across has a big birthday soon; must be for them.

I tear my eyes away as the door to the Aston Martin opens, and I head into the bathroom to check my face and hair. The morning sickness has reappeared in the past fifteen minutes, but I also know that's nerves of seeing Lucas again. My makeup looks still in place, and my hair is done up in a sort of messy but not messy bun thing on my head with a few strands loose.

My phone sits in the back pocket of my jeans, waiting for him to let me know he's here, but it hasn't gone off yet. My heart feels full at the thought of seeing him again, but also nervous because of his reaction. He gave little besides the whole complicated thing, which renders me nervous.

Words are weird because they can have so many meanings behind them. Complicated is, well, one complicated word. Anything can be complicated, and complications can happen with anything.

Complicated could be anything from he's a native of another country and is going back in a week, or it could be something like he has a genetic disorder that could pass on, like Huntington's Disease or something. Or it could mean something as little as he just didn't want a family this young and would rather I adopt it out to a family who does want a family.

Or it could be something else entirely.

But what? Am I looking too much into it?

My buzzer goes off, so I head to the front door at the same pace as my heart is pounding: hard and fast.

When I open the front door, I almost close it again. This can't be right...

I take him in: tall, muscular, in a black suit, white shirt with the top two buttons undone. His hair is brownand wavy, gelled back. He still has hazel eyes this time, and the same strong jawline...

This isn't Lucas, though.

"Peach?"

Oh, it's definitely him. But it's not Lucas from that night, oh no. This is Prince Kai Lucas Abbott – fifth in line to the British throne. A fucking Prince is standing on my doorstep – and father to my child.

Holy shit.

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