Chapter 43

"Can we stop over next weekend?" Liam beamed at me and Dougie as he and Joey pulled their coats on, ready to leave. Jazzie smiled and laughed from her place by the front door, looking at Dougie who simply nodded.
"Sure." He shrugged with a grin. "I'll show you the toothpaste trick."
"What's the toothpaste trick?" Jazzie raised an eyebrow at her brother.
"Mooom!" Joey whined. "We can't tell you that." He placed a finger to his lips and shook his head to prove his point. "It's a secret for us boys."
"Okay.. I get the point." She looked up at Doug once more as she ushered the twins out of the house, and ordering them to get in the car with a flick of her finger. "That's okay with you isn't it?"
"It's fine." Dougie smiled again. "Now get going. You're blocking my drive."

Dougie went to close the door as Jazzie walked back down the drive to her car, he turned to me, smiling.

"That was the best time I've ever had with them." He remarked, both of us jumping slightly, hearing the door knock violently.

"Open the door!" The twins yelled from behind it.

Hesitantly, Dougie opened the door, still never sure one hundred percent of the twins initial motives. I watched on, the twins beaming up at Dougie. There's silence.

"Hurry up you guys. You're mum's waiting." He pulled a face at Jazzie who was merely grinning back at him from the front seat of her car.
"We love you Uncle Dougie!" They giggled before charging at him, head butting him in the groin, running off when all Dougie could do was groan and push the door closed, falling to his knees on the floor.

"Are you okay?" I stifled a laugh, edging closer to him, getting on my knees.
"It… Hurts." He puffed.
"Well, it will do." I raised an eyebrow, letting out a small whiny giggle that had been trying to escape for a few minutes now, followed by a loud snort.

How lady like.

"Hurry up!" Dougie yelled up the stairs. "Why do you have to take hours?!"
"Because I'm trying not to look fat!" I called back from our bedroom, still facing the tall mirror on the wall, still in nothing but my underwear. Technically we were meant to have left the house fifteen minutes ago. I was somewhat occupied with my appearance. Ten weeks in to this pregnancy, and I was beginning to show a little.

"You're not fat!" Dougie exclaimed.
I heard frustrated footsteps on the stairs.
If he plans on yelling at me, he can forget this interview, and I'll stay at home eating cookie dough and omelette. Not together obviously. Although, that does intrigue me a little.

"You're not even dresse-" He began to state loudly, cutting himself off mid-sentence. I stood still, watching him through the aid of the mirror as he walked towards me. "You're not fat, Brenna. You're pregnant." He smiled, his arms wrapping around me from behind, palms resting on my bare stomach, fingers tapping gently. "Please get dressed."
"Everything's a little tight.." I mumbled, looking down at the small bump that was on show, "So I can't go.."
"You're lying. Everything you own is too big for you anyway…" He smirked. "You're just nervous about the interview."
"I'm not." I argued, turning to face him.
"Yes you are." Dougie retaliated, holding on to my hands. "What are you so nervous about..?"
"Oh you know, it's really not a big deal telling the world to believe the rumours we denied.. Oh and then to tell the McFly fan base that you are fathering your first child.. I'm going to be the most hated person in the world. I'm going to be right up there with Hitler in everyone's naughty books." I finally found time to take a breath.
He simply laughed.
Don't you laugh at me mister.
I may be pregnant, but I still pack a good punch.

"Brenna, hate to break it to you, but I'm really not as big a sex symbol as I used to be." He shrugged. Is he kidding me? Is he having a laugh? Does he think I was born yesterday? I've grown up with friends who obsess over McFly, and they have other friends that do so.. Hey, Tiff once asked me if I could get her in with my Dad once.. I'm sure it was a joke…
"Oh, please.." I rolled my eyes, raising them up to the heavens. "You've obviously not been awake for the past sixteen years."
"Well, even so… I'm the one having to tell everyone on national TV that I've knocked Harry Judd's daughter up, who's not even twenty yet, and then… well… that's all I got.." He grumbled.

"…And we have an exclusive with Brenna Judd, sussing out what the papers have been saying, and whether it's all myth and legend." Becky Parsons spoke, the twenty one year old presenter of a new Saturday morning TV show, Live And Kicking. According to Doug, it's a rip off of an old 90's thing.

Before my time…

Becky turned to me, a smile fixed to her face as she began to talk again. I glanced over at Dougie who watching on from backstage, wringing his hands together nervously.

"So, first off, you've had a few months time off after your trip in to hospital, everything in working order?" She laughed a little.
"Yeah. Everything's fully functional." I smiled.
"And while you were in there, you were unconscious for eight days, weren't you? There were a lot of headlines about the accident in the daily newspapers. Was any of it true?"
"Just a fraction." I replied. "I actually came here to clear a few things up, cause there's some pretty bizarre things being said. I know I found the 'Pregnant by a Canadian Mounty', funny.. but we don't want to hide anything anymore. It's hurtful as well, seeing all this gossip about me and someone I've never even met before, and having to explain to my boyfriend again that it's just a load of bull…"
"So you're in a happy loving relationship, are we still not allowed to know who with? The daily mail had an interesting way of guessing… Dougie Poynter being most likely, with Danny Jones coming second… How did you react to that?" Becky asked. She already knew of course. We'd rehearsed this interview a few days ago.. So this was child's play..
"We laughed about it actually. My dad wasn't too pleased. He'd only just found out himself who I'd been dating for the past two years, and he didn't really want it splashed all over the papers either." I answered. "But everything's cooled down now, and after tour I'm taking time out to be with my Fiancé and to get ready for the baby."

Becky raised an eyebrow at me.
What?
What did I say?

"Did you just say Fiancé?" She pryed. My eyes widened, and I glanced at Dougie again, a grin spreading across his face. "You'll be wanting to come clean soon won't you, because of his celeb status as well.."
"I guess I did…" I blushed.

Sh|te.
It's not even like he's even proposed…

"So why don't you give us a clue then.." Becky smiled again.
How irritating.
"What's the baby's last name going to be?" She squealed slightly.

Okay, someone's a little excited.
I stopped, pausing for thought.
What was it going to be?
Poynter's obvious really, isn't it?

Poynter-Judd.
Claire would go mad I'm sure.
A girl in my biology class back in high school who enjoyed writing a fair few naughty scenes involving Dad and Dougie..
I found it highly disturbing..
Hello, this is my dad we're talking about..

"Poynter.." I stated hesitantly. "Or Poynter-Judd.."

"I think that went well." I smiled, walking from the TV studios, Dougie's hand in mine. Everything had been silent since we'd been reunited back stage. A hug, a small peck on the cheek, a quick exit from the building.

To be honest, with everything off my shoulders, I'm feeling a little bored already.
No more sneaking around.
No more secret shags.
No more…

Will I even have a sex life after this baby?
Good lord…
What if I just shrivel up from the inside out.
Old before my time and all that.

"Better than I expected." Dougie shrugged.
He looks a little..
Umm…
Odd.
"You didn't want to tell people did you?" I look to the floor, my hand becoming limp in his.
"You said you were my fiancé" He spoke. "Why?"

That's why he's being weird with me?
"Slip of the tongue." I replied, continuing to walk, now slightly ahead of him. He tugged on my hand, pulling me to a stand still. I turned to face him. "What?"
"Would you want to marry me?" He was barely audible, coughing to clear his throat, looking rather frustrated with the lack of vocabulary he could now produce.
"Doug…" I winced inwardly.
"I'm serious. Will you marry me?" His thumbs stroked at the backs of my hands gently, comforting. I looked to the floor, shaking my head a little in disbelief that he was trying to have this conversation with me on a busy London street. "I'm asking you now, Brenna."
"I know, I heard you." I mumbled.
"No…" He looked at me, shuffling his feet a little before moving down on to one knee. "I'm asking you."
"Doug, get up! People are watching." I hissed out of the corner of my mouth.
"I don't care if they're filming us, let alone watching us…" He grinned, fumbling around in his jacket pocket.

Does this seem planned out to you?