Best Laid Plans by Billy London

looked down at his phone, the screensaver a picture of Francesca smiling Mona Lisa-like at the camera. She wore one of his less colourful shirts as Luca pressed his mouth to her neck. They’d taken it the night before he’d left and every time he looked at that photo, he remembered he had something incredible to go back to, something so much better than the peaks of resentment and more resentment he received from his family.
    “Then leave her alone to call you when she’s ready.” Angelo rubbed his face. “I have to go out. You should go out as well. All you’ve done is manage that cunt of a father of yours and look fucking miserable. I can’t take it anymore. She’ll call you. As it’s your fault, she’ll make that all clear to you. In the meantime, let’s fucking go.”
    Luca knew he’d get no peace from Angelo until he did what he was told. But while he was out, nothing would stop him from looking at how soon he could get back to London and find out what was wrong with his sweetheart.
     

     
    Frankie watched her phone flash again with Luca’s number, biting on her knuckle. The phone stopped vibrating for a moment, and then tinged with a voice-mail message. She listened and her eyes filled with tears yet again. “Sweetheart, please talk to me.”
    She couldn’t, she really couldn’t say a word to him, because honestly, she’d end up flying to Italy and killing him. Whatever anyone said to her, it was entirely Luca’s fault. After a moment’s thought she sent him a text message. A lot going on right now. Give me a bit of time.
    She hoped it was enough to stave him off, but he called again and again, so she let the call go to voice mail. There was so much to do, to think about. A letter had come to her from the GP confirming a scan in just over a fortnight, which she had grabbed from Joanne’s spindly fingers before she could open it and have a fit. Now she’d have to take time off and speak to HR as to why. The new flat she’d put an offer in for had only one bedroom, and she didn’t even want to think about what her mother would say.
    It hadn’t crossed her mind not to have the baby. She was thirty-three and she wanted children. There wasn’t much else for her to wait for. It wasn’t the ideal situation, but what in her life ever had been ideal? Working at the unit made her very aware of what government help she was entitled to, and since she’d had a job from the age of fourteen washing hair at her local salon, she bloody well deserved the help. What made her nervous (she refused to admit to fear) was that her relationship with Luca spanned a blink of an eye. It was all very well claiming support and understanding post-orgasm, but now? When reality hit and there would be a whole dependent person for them both to look after, why wouldn’t Luca change his mind and run for the hills? She didn’t want to do it alone, but she would if she had to. Thinking about Luca rejecting her and the baby was making her even sicker. Statements of positive enforcements aside, it was bad. It was really, really bad.
    “Francesca!” Joanne yelled. “There’s someone on the phone for you. I can’t understand them.”
    With a sigh, Frankie made her way downstairs and took the phone from her mother. “Thanks.” She stood there, waiting, obviously wanting to listen in, but Frankie said pointedly, “Thank you.”
    Joanne disappeared upstairs and Frankie answered. “Hello?”
    “So you do know how to answer your phone,” Luca said. Her stomach crumpled like a piece of paper.
    “I said give me a bit of time!”
    “You’ve had a week,” he replied. “What’s the matter?”
    Frankie heard someone yelling in the background. “Are you harassing that poor girl again?”
    Luca ignored them and repeated his question to Frankie’s dismay. “Listen, I told you there’s a lot going on right now. And I know you’ve got enough on your plate, so stop worrying about me.”
    “I won’t. I can’t. Tell me