Author's Note: Sorry I wasn't able to update on Sunday! I accidentally deleted the whole chapter I had written, and I couldn't retrieve it. I ended up having to re-write the whole thing, and so here I am on Tuesday, posting the update that should've been posted on Sunday...

Anyway, I hope you like the chapter! And thanks so much to those who have reviewed the previous chapters :)

As usual, I have nothing to do with Skins.

Chapter 7: Lunch Dates

July 5th, 2013

It was a dreary and muggy Friday morning that I usually wouldn't even be awake to see. But it was also the day of my monthly meeting on London for work and I was forced to wake up early to catch the train. Emily wasn't needed at work today, so she was going over to Katie and Effy's house to help Katie paint the nursery. Effy had decided that, for now at least, she wanted a colour that was gender-neutral. Once they found out the sex of the baby, they could add a few other things to match the baby's gender. Effy and Katie decided on a very pale yellow colour, so pale that it was almost white except for when the sun would hit it just right.

It had only been a week since I took the pregnancy test, so Emily and I still felt a bit upset about not being pregnant, but I was nowhere near as upset as I was a week ago. I was definitely improving. Emily had printed out articles for me to read about increasing fertility, but I hadn't touched them since she gave them to me. I didn't want to think about fertility or sperm count or anything of the sort during these next two weeks. I wanted to be completely relaxed, so that when we tried again I wouldn't be stressed and therefore decrease my chances of getting pregnant. I didn't even bring a pregnancy book to read with me on the train.

I texted Emily as the train pulled into the station in London, letting her know that I arrived safely. I finally got to the office after a thirty minute long commute on the tube stuck between sweaty and stinky people and was suddenly reminded of why I didn't live in London.

"Good morning, Naomi," the office receptionist, Jean, greeted me pleasantly. I smiled and stopped to chat with her for a bit. Jean was one of the nicest people in the office, which was saying something since most of the people I worked with were quite pleasant for Londoners.

However, I'd forgotten that Jean was also seven months pregnant and that I was going through a very jealous phase.

"How are things going?" I asked Jean with a tight smile as she leaned back in her chair and rubbed her belly.

"Well, Troy and I have decided to name the baby Mackenzie, after Troy's great grandmother. The nursery is almost finished, and Troy got a promotion at work..." Jean droned on for a while about how fabulous her husband was before frowning and asking me what was wrong.

"Oh, nothing. Just some stuff going on at home, but nothing to worry about," I said quickly, taking a few steps away from Jean's desk. I was already feeling jealousy seeping into my every pore from just speaking to a pregnant woman, and I knew I had to get away from her quickly before I said something I would regret. "Anyways, got to go, gonna be late for the meeting!"

Jean smiled and waved goodbye as I practically sprinted down the hallway.

The meeting, as I predicted, was as boring and uneventful as it usually was. It consisted of two hours of people pointing at things on charts and talking about marketing and ad revenue before finally reminding us of our ethical codes as reporters and journalists...basically reminding us that we were not working for News of the World and that we could not hack into anybody's phones to get a better news story.

Luckily, I only had to stay at the office for a half-day since my editor was on holiday and therefore was not there to yell at me for emailing her my articles at 3 in the morning on the day it's due.

I walked out of the building and turned my phone on. It immediately started vibrating in my hand. I checked the caller ID and saw that it was Cook.

"Hello, Cookie," I said cheerily as I walked towards the tube station.

"Naomikins, tonight you and me and Ems are gonna go out and get fucking mental!"

I sighed, but I also shrugged at the same time. Maybe going out and getting fucked was a good option right now. It'd take my mind off things that were stressing me out, it'd get bonus points with Em since we hardly ever manage to get out of the house anymore, and it'd allow me to keep an eye on Cook and make sure he didn't shag a disease-ridden whore. Really, everybody would win.

"Alright, meet at our place at 10, and then we'll call a cab and go to the club," I said. Cook laughed and yelled in delight before hanging up the phone.

I walked into the tube station, swiped my oyster card, and instead of getting on the line that would take me straight to Paddington station to catch the train home, I went in the opposite direction. I did this every time I was in London.

I walked into a swanky restaurant in Soho and smiled warmly at the hostess, who recognized me immediately.

"She's already here, Miss Fitch-Campbell," the hostess said as she grabbed a menu and lead me to a secluded table in the back of the restaurant.

She was already sitting at the table, sipping a glass of white wine and browsing the menu, even though we always ordered the same thing when we came here for our monthly get togethers. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a chignon, her pouty lips so unlike mine were pursed gently as she read through the menu.

"Hi, Nat," I said, reaching over the menu and hugging her warmly. Nat's light blue eyes exactly like my own lit up when she saw me.

"Hey, Naoms," Natalie replied, squeezing me just as tightly. "Sit down, sit down, I want to hear all your news."

I shook my head at her as I sat down and spread the cloth napkin over my lap. "I'll tell you all about me as soon as you fill me in," I said. Natalie became tense, sensing what I was going to ask her next. "How's dad?"

Natalie shrugged and nervously folded and re-folded her napkin on her lap. "Not so well, Naoms. I mean, there are good days and bad days. Sometimes he asks about you, and sometimes he can't remember his own name."

I nodded at her and sighed. Natalie was technically my half-sister. She reached out to me three years ago after finding out about her father's illicit affair with my hippie mother that resulted in, well, me. I had been too stubborn to meet my father, but I was perfectly happy to get to know Natalie. She was a pleasant and lovely woman. She was three years older than me and worked and lived in London. She was happily single, or so she said, and loved her job as a real estate agent. She says she's a real estate agent, but ever since our father was diagnosed with Alzheimer's disease, Nat took over his agency and is technically CEO of the company. But Natalie is a humble woman and introduces herself as a real estate agent.

"I just wish you had a chance to get to know him properly when we were kids. We could've grown up together and been best friends, just like any other sisters were," Natalie said with a smile. I smiled with her. Now that my father was sick and unable to remember me most of the time, I was starting to wonder if I really had missed out by not having any contact with him. But this brought up a question that had been plaguing my mind over the past few weeks - would my child miss out because they didn't have a father figure in their lives?

"Maybe you should come visit him sometime, Naoms," Natalie suggested, munching quietly on the salad she ordered before I arrived. "Bring Emily. I'm sure they'd be happy to meet each other."

Except Emily didn't know that I knew who my father was and Emily also didn't know about my secret meetings with my sister. Emily didn't even know that my sister existed. So I doubted that they were going to meet any time soon.

I shrugged. "Emily's pretty busy right now. She started a new job working at a wedding and events business and she's just starting to settle in. I'm not sure she'd have the time to make the trip," I lied. Natalie nodded, looking down at her plate of food. I knew she could tell I was lying.

"Sorry, Naoms. I shouldn't have brought it up. You have to come to that decision on your own, I can't force it on you."

I smiled, grateful that Natalie understood how difficult the situation was for me at the moment. "Someday, Nat, we'll all sit down together to have dinner as a family. I promise. I'll get there eventually."

Nat nodded and smiled at me. "Okay, Naoms, now it's your turn to tell me your news. You promised!"

I sighed playfully. "Well, I'm not supposed to be talking to anyone about this, but you're my sister..." I teased as Natalie bounced excitedly in her seat. "Emily and I are trying for a baby."

Natalie squealed and almost knocked our plates and glasses off the table, as she hopped up and squeezed me tightly. "I'm so excited for you two, Naomi! How long have you been trying? Who's your donor? Are you pregnant now? Could you be pregnant now? Where's the nursery going to be? Can I help you decorate? Oh my god, I'm going to be an auntie!"

I laughed as Natalie continued to hug me and shake me and squeal things in my ear. When I finally managed to get her to sit back down and act like a normal person again, I explained everything to her.

"We've been trying for one month. I took the test last week and it was negative, so no I'm not pregnant and there is no chance I could be pregnant right now. Cook, my best friend, is our donor. He's a really nice guy – a bit rough around the edges, but his heart is good as gold. The nursery is going to be Katie and Effy's old room in our flat, and yes, you can help us decorate if you like. And yes, you're going to be our baby's Auntie Nat," I smiled brightly at Natalie as a few tears escaped her eyes. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you last month, I just didn't want to jinx anything. You're the only person who knows we're trying."

Natalie nodded and her face became somber. "I'm sorry you're not pregnant, Naoms. I can't understand what you're going through, but I know how hard it must be on you, to be under all this stress."

I nodded. It really had been a lot of pressure and stress, and I think that could have had something to do with why I didn't get pregnant. But I felt so relieved to tell Nat about Emily and I trying to conceive. It took off a bit of that pressure, and it relieved a bit of that stress. I know I should have been talking to Emily about all this stuff, but she'd been worrying so much lately it just seemed easier to talk to Nat about it. I felt as though I couldn't talk to Emily about my concerns anymore, since I was so scared that she would blow things out of proportion and make me even more stressed than I already was. Plus, considering Emily's new job and the amount of stress she was under, as well as the self-inflicted stress of her constantly worrying about me, I didn't want to be any more of a burden than I already was. It ended up being that we hardly talked about anything related to us trying to conceive unless it was absolutely necessary. We stopped talking about how we felt about things, we stopped talking about how excited we were for us and for Katie and Effy. Our conversations were reduced to almost nothing. It was a never ending cycle of stress and lack of communication, which caused both of us even more stress.

But I wouldn't talk to Nat about that. She didn't know Emily and it would have been unfair to talk about Em behind her back that way.

Lunch took about two hours, which was unusually long, but I was happy to spend the time with Nat and finally have somebody to talk to. By the time I got back home it was about 5 o'clock, and Emily was sitting on the couch waiting for me. As soon as I walked in the door, Emily sprung up off the couch and walked over to me rather quickly.

"I've been calling you and calling you and you haven't answered your phone! You didn't text me to tell me where you were! I've been worried sick!" Emily yelled, pushing me against the wall. Her eyes were filled with fury and worry, but also relief. "I phoned your mum, I phoned Effy, I phoned Katie, I phoned my mum, I phoned Cook, I phoned everybody I could possibly think of!"

Emily smacked my arm with every name she mentioned. She was getting more and more upset, and had worked herself up so much she was crying. I grabbed Emily's hands and pulled her into me.

"Em, I'm sorry, I'm so so so sorry. I turned off my phone when I was on the train because I felt tired and I had a nap. I'm so sorry, love, I'm so sorry," I said as I held Emily tightly. She cried into my shoulder and kept trying to hit me, but I held her so tightly it was impossible.

"Don't ever do that to me again, Naomi Fitch-Campbell! I got so worried about you," Emily sobbed.

It was starting to seem as though Emily wasn't upset only about my lack of communication with her, so I pulled her away from me and examined her closely. She was wearing her painting clothes, and had little splatters of yellowish-whitish paint on her overalls. Her hair was tied back in a messy ponytail, and her mascara was streaming down her face. There was nothing seemingly out of place about her, but I knew there was something else going on.

"Em," I whispered as soon as Emily started to calm down and stopped sobbing. "What happened?"

Emily looked up at me and her eyes filled up with tears all over again. "I'm late," she whispered. I frowned at her in confusion. "I got nervous and thought maybe I messed something up or I spilled some of Cook's sperm or I got it on my fingers or something and maybe I got pregnant. So I took a test, and it was negative."

I nodded at her, though I was still frowning. "I don't understand, Em. You'll probably get your period in a few days."

Emily nodded at me. "I know, I know, I'm being silly. It's just that normally you and I are synced up and you finished two days ago and I haven't even started," Emily said, wiping the few stray tears that fell down her cheeks. "I just..."

And suddenly it all clicked. Emily's anxieties about suffering from premature ovarian failure just like Katie had all come to the surface. I hugged Emily close to me and just let her cry. I was sure that Emily didn't actually have premature ovarian failure at all. She had been exceptionally stressed over the past month, which was probably why she was late.

About an hour and two cups of tea later, Emily was back to her usual self. She had apologized profusely for overreacting like she did, but I refused to accept her apology. She shouldn't have to apologize for the way she feels, and I told her just that.

"Em, I know it's not the best idea, but Cook asked us to go out tonight. Would you like to go?"

Emily shrugged and smiled. "It can't hurt, can it? I feel a lot better, and we deserve a night out."

I felt so relieved that Emily had agreed to go. It seemed as though things were finally on their way to being normal again – Emily communicated her fears about being late, and that was huge progress for us, considering we'd barely managed to speak about anything serious for the past two weeks. I beamed at Emily as we began to get ready – maybe this was just what we needed. A night out to get us relaxed and communicating again. I hoped that this night would do the trick.

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