baby love (h.s.)

four

The first thing that my mother did when I told her I was pregnant was burst into laughter. Of all the reactions I had been expecting—tears, shouting, tears and shouting—amusement certainly hadn't been on the list. And yet, she sat there across from me at the dinner table, cackling as if I'd just told the funniest joke in the world. 

It wasn't until nearly two minutes later when she realized that I wasn't laughing along with her. I watched as her smile slowly faded, and the slightest look of registration crossed her face. "Grace..."

"I'm not making a joke," I whispered, unable to strain my voice any further. "I'm actually pregnant, Mum."

She dashed over to me, and within seconds, her arms were wrapped so tightly around my neck I felt like I might choke. My mother was known for being a rather aggressive hugger, something most people didn't expect, on account of her five-foot-nothing frame. "Oh my God, Grace!" she cried. "I thought you were making an April Fool's prank. I'm sorry for laughing."

Despite everything, I couldn't help but smile weakly. "Mum, does that seriously seem like something I would joke about?"

She stared at me, her eyes filling up with tears. At that moment, I forgot all about my worries over how she'd react me. My mother was a lot of things, but unsupportive was not one of them. "I can't believe this," she squeezed me tighter. "I'm so happy for you, sweetheart."

I blinked. She was happy for me. My mother was happy that I was pregnant. She wasn't disappointed, or shouting, or heartbroken—not like her parents had been. I couldn't help but dwell on the irony over that, before I reminded her, "You haven't even asked me who the father is."

She clasped her hands together. "I guess I just assumed you didn't know."

"Mum!" I exclaimed. "Of course I know who he is."

"How was I supposed to know?" she defended herself. "What you get down to in your free time is no business of mine."

I hesitated before trying the words out loud. She was the first person I had told after Niall and obviously Harry himself, but I knew this wasn't going to be the last time I had to tell this story. "His name is Harry," I sighed. Wait for it. "Harry Styles."

I watched as her eyes grew so wide that they practically threatened to pop out of their sockets. "Styles, as in Desmond Styles' son? The multimillionaire?" she cried. When I nodded gravely, she let out a shriek. "Grace! Why didn't you tell me that you slept with Harry Styles!"

"What happened to what I get down to in my free time is no business of yours?" I exclaimed.

"Yeah, when you're dating a random tosser you knew in uni, not when you're dating Harry Styles!" she said. "Oh my God. Do you know, I actually saw him in the papers a couple of months back. Is that not mad?"

I tried not to dwell on the fact that seemingly everyone in the world, including my mother, knew about Harry's social status. To be fair, she was only thirty-nine and she worked at a hair salon, so there was definitely room for gossip there. But still. It was embarrassing.

Also: "We're not dating," I informed her. "Niall set us up, which clearly just goes to show why I should never do anything he says ever again. We're just going to be..." What? Living together? Going on--God forbid--family vacations together? "Co-parenting," I finally finished weakly.

"Co-parenting," Mum echoed. "My God, Grace, you've always been so level headed. Try not to let that go."

I wasn't sure how that would be something I could control, but I didn't mention it. Instead, I told her, "He wants to stick around, Mum. Be part of the baby's life."