Best of Both Worlds

Chapter Twelve

Like everything major that had happened to me this year, it took me some time to accept the fact that the mother of my baby's father hated me. Granted, not everyone would be head over heels for me but I expected some level of cordiality. I heard that Italian mothers were protective of their sons but it was not like I was marrying her son or anything. And here I thought Nigeria's mothers-in-law were the worst.

Nicholas felt guilty about how his mother acted at the dinner, as he ought to. I was still a bit salty towards him. He decided to take me out for dinner after work, to make up for it but I wasn't up for wining and dining. To be honest, I wanted to go home and put my feet up. I tried to dissuade him with the fact that I had gotten over it and it was fine but he was adamant.

After minutes of back and forth, we decided to have something from a street food stall that sold shawarma, Rice, Falafels and other kinds of stuff. It was a couple of blocks away from the hospital so we decided to take a walk, instead of his car.

Nick wasn't keen on the idea of having dinner on the street but with great reluctance, he went along with it. On the condition that we would eat our food someplace else. We both got takeaway plates of shawarma and falafels with two bottles of water.

We ended up on a sidewalk of a bridge, sitting on a public bench that overlooked the water. The evening had settled well over us and the street lights, building lights and nocturnal beings came alive. We sat quietly on the bench, eating our food, enjoying the beautiful, serene view and drowning out the occasional honks of cars.

"So... Uhm, about that night. What happened?" I asked

That was something that had been hampering my thoughts for over a while. I'm almost six months pregnant and I couldn't recollect our whole encounter at the club. If for some reason, I needed to give an account of how we met, what we talked about and what made us click – other than the alcohol – I wanted to be able to give a clear story. In my memory, there were a bunch of holes I needed to be filled.

I wanted to know his own side of the story. What attracted him to me? Or vice versa. Although, I was pretty sure I didn't make the first move. He wasn't exactly the first person I'd pick out in a room of men and that's not based on the level of attractiveness, but ethnical compatibility.

He glanced at me with raised brows but didn't utter a word until he finished chewing. "You still don't remember anything from that night?"

I shrugged and picked at my shawarma. "I remember some of it,"

"What exactly do you remember?" He asked as he wiped the corners of his mouth with a serviette.

"Uhm... I remember talking to you by the bar. I don't remember what we talked about. I also remember taking so many glasses, very stupid of me" I muttered the last part under my breath.

"Is that all?" He asked

"Uh... I also remember going along with you to that hotel and then... You know, bits and pieces of – of what happened afterwards"

A snicker escaped him and one side of his lips tugged upwards. "You mean, sex"

I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, whatever. Let's move on"

His upper body vibrated from suppressed laughter. He cleared his throat and leaned against the bench. "Well, I approached you on the basis of how oddly you stood out in the club. It was clearly not your scene"

I narrowed my eye at him and tilted my head a bit to the side. "That's why you approached me? Because I looked odd?"

He released a sigh. "No, I mean, you were extremely attractive – and still are" He added quickly, at my raised brow. "Every guy glanced your way, at least twice. You didn't look particularly interested in talking to anyone but the people you came in with. So, I took a risk and approached you"