Page 272 of Phobia
“It is a real thing,” Kelly snaps.
Yes, it is areal thing.
Tokophobia. The pathological fear of pregnancy and the bane of my fucking existence.
Well… at least it keeps me alive.
Chapter 4
Raising my glass, I clink it against Kelly’s. “This is how you drink prosecco.”
She snorts a laugh. “Never again, Hun… Never again.”
We’ve been in this bar drinking adult drinks in adult glasses for two hours. After escaping my own personal hell, Kelly and I went shopping for new outfits for tonight. It wasn’t necessary because our wardrobes are packed to the brim already, but I felt the need for a cleanse.
Thank God they didn’t make me taste-test the baby food.
Just the thought makes the bile rise, so I wash it down with more prosecco.
“What’s the plan for tonight?” Kelly asks, topping up our glasses. “Are we dancing?”
I open my mouth to call her out for asking an obvious question, but her frown cuts me off. She has her phone in her hand and given that it’s ten o’clock on a Saturday night, it can only be down to one person.
“It’s Ant,” she sighs.
Figures. “What does he need?”
Her frown deepens.
Brilliant. I love Ant as much as I do Kelly. He’s been a big brother to me, but my god, he can also be a massive twat.
“It’s Max hounding my phone.” She raises her eyes to meet mine, and I know I won’t like what’s coming next. “Poker.”
***
One Uber and thirty minutes later, we pull up outside a non-descript-looking door that would seem like every other door in the backstreets of Camden were it not for the two massive security guards.
“How are we going to get in?” I have other questions, likewhatare we walking into? More importantly, is there time to go home and change because I’m feeling quite vulnerable in my strappy black dress and diamante studded heels?
We were dressed for high-end, not highly dodgy.
“Max will come out… he says he can get us in.” Kelly wraps her arms around her body, more worried for her brother than herself.
Ant loves the cards, but they don’t return the sentiment. He loses, drinks, makes terrible decisions, loses some more, and then takes a loan from a player at the table to fuel his losing streak. My savings have come to his rescue more than once, but Uncle Jude made me promise to stop bailing him out.
I understand the lure, and it’s all thanks to our Grandma Betty, or Betty Boop, as we call her, on account of her being an absolute legend. My period started when I was twelve, and my tokophobia stepped up a notch because getting pregnant became a physical possibility. She thought learning poker would help: study the people around me, dissect the minutest reactions, and hide what’s inside.
It worked, and when I play, I’m completely in control—a statue, giving nothing away whilst absorbing the changes in the people around me. I can spot a blagger a mile away. Ant… not so much.
The door opens, and Max walks over to us. He smiles, but not enough to hide his unease. “Thanks for coming.” He hugs Kelly before reaching for me, lingering longer than I’d like.
Max and I know each other well. He’s the classic tall blonde and handsome and is partial to the rear passage—which works well for me, all things considered. We stopped all that a few months ago and forced our way back to being friends.
“How bad is it?” Kelly asks him.
Max runs a hand through his hair. “Ant’s about 8k down, but I can’t get him to step away.”
Shit.
