The next few weeks flew by. Adrianna was slightly happier knowing that Josh’s money would hopefully bring them a step closer to getting Logan back home. Gabriel and I spent most weekends rushing round the shops ticking off a list of everything we needed to get for our little bundles of joy before they arrived. I bought a few pink cardigans in different sizes, but also some balls of wool, different-sized knitting needles and a do-it-yourself book called Knitting for Dummies; boy did the title fit, as I lost count of how many attempts I made at knitting a meagre set of booties. Needless to say, the wool and needles were soon bagged up in a drawer, and the book very quickly ended up in the bin, bringing me to the conclusion that I didn’t even manage to qualify as a dummy.
Mum and Dad are still stuck out in Turkey; initially, spending a few extra weeks out there was a novelty, giving them a little longer to soak up the sun and relax. But in the last few calls I’ve had from Mum I’ve noticed a dramatic change in her attitude, saying how much she’s missing us all and wants to be back home for when Adrianna and Danielle give birth. She didn’t say in so many words, but I feel she’s losing all hope of bringing Logan back to England.
It’s 1 October 2016 and my twenty-ninth birthday. God, one year to go and it’ll be the big 30! Although I’ve gone through the early menopause, when I hear the word thirty it feels like I’m getting old. With his next milestone being the big 40 in six years’ time, Gabriel just laughs at me.
I’ve lounged around on the settee for most of day, as that’s all Gabriel’s allowed me to do. Interflora turned up about an hour ago with a beautiful basket full of thirty red roses. There was a small card, and when I slipped it out of its envelope I was met with the number 30 in gold font. I closed the door on the delivery man.
“30?!” I shouted, raising my eyebrows.
Gabriel managed a quick smile my way, then bolted up the stairs. When I found him, hiding behind the bedroom door, he said he had initially bought twenty-nine roses, but before he paid he added an extra one, saying it was for luck; as for the card, that was a mistake on Interflora’s part. His lips twitched, and I could see how hard he was finding it to keep a straight face.
Originally, I had wanted to go out for a meal to celebrate with all my family, especially as a new steak house had opened up in Nottingham, but with Adrianna and Danielle being so close to giving birth, when I mentioned a birthday meal to them they didn’t seem too keen, and I guess with Mum and Dad away my heart wasn’t really in it.
Larry is lying by my side on the settee, my legs resting on the little black beanbag. Gabriel’s rushing in and out wearing my stripy pinafore and nothing else … my one birthday request. As he darts past, I glance across the lounge at his bare bum and can’t help chuckling to myself, as he’s doing everything he can to make sure that one way or another I get my steak dinner. With his back towards me, I hold up my phone to capture the moment; looking at Gabriel’s arse, who wouldn’t? His head shoots round. I forgot it wasn’t on silent and he had heard me take the picture. He wags his finger, staring at me.
“No, Natasha, I don’t think so.”
He grabs my phone and presses delete.
“That’s one picture you won’t be putting on Facebook.”
He turns it on silent and slips my phone into the large pocket at the front of his pinafore.
I hold out my hand. “Err, I don’t think so.”
“I’m confiscating it for the night. I want you all to myself and your one hundred per cent attention, not Darcy texting you about her love life.”
I lean forward. “Fair enough, but what about Adrianna? What if she needs us?”
“If she needs us that badly, she’ll ring the house phone.”
I open my mouth to protest, but I know that he’s right, and he is going to a lot of trouble to make tonight special.
Now that he’s taken my phone, I decide to make him work. I smile sweetly, holding up my empty wine glass, which he hurries to refill from a vintage bottle that Josh and Michelle dropped round earlier; two hundred pounds, Josh said he’d paid for it. It’s only a week until his twenty-ninth birthday and I’m just hoping he doesn’t expect us to return the favour, because there’s no chance with the little amount of money we have between us. I felt awkward this morning when they turned up out of the blue, and so I invited them round for a meal next week. I think I called it a double birthday celebration, but seeing the expression on Gabriel’s face, I don’t think he was as enthusiastic at the thought of spending several hours in their company. The only thing he has in common with Josh is me, and I can’t really see myself being the focal point of the conversation for the entire evening.
It’s another thirty minutes and two more glasses of wine before Gabriel waltzes in from the kitchen, pulls me up off the settee and covers my eyes with his hands. Then, one step at a time, he walks me into the dining room.
“I hope you’re ready for this,” he says.
I don’t know if I want to open my eyes, as I can imagine with Gabriel’s limited culinary skills dinner will be a handful of chips and two burnt steaks. I take a breath and inhale the scent of cinnamon from a burning candle. Maybe I’ve got lucky. I stand for a couple more moments and then feel his hands fall away from me.
“Go on then,” he mutters, his lips brushing the side of my neck, “you can look now.”
I blink away the darkness and open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. He has transformed the entire room. My chair, which has been pulled out from the table, has a sparkling red balloon floating above it, tied on by a thin silver ribbon made into a bow, and the cream carpet is covered in rose petals. I’m unconsciously counting the petals in my head. I’m imagining my beautiful rose basket stripped bare, leaving an abundance of thorns and thirty green stems. My eyes shoot towards the sideboard; my roses are standing perfectly, so my racing heart returns to its regular beat. I honestly didn’t think Gabriel had it in him. A new silver-coloured tablecloth has been laid elegantly on our dining table accompanied by a scarlet runner. He’s managed to find my crystal bowl at the back of the sideboard and made it into a beautiful centrepiece, filled with water on which more rose petals and small cylindrical candles float.
Lost for words and completely blown away, I turn on the spot. My eyes almost jump out of my head when I see that he’s lost the pinafore… No, he’s not standing in front of me in his birthday suit, but a suit of the lightest grey material. There’s not a crease to be seen in his brilliant white shirt, which has the top button undone and is complemented by a silk crimson tie. My eyes drop to my discoloured white t-shirt and pair of navy pyjama bottoms patterned with jumping white rabbits, my sticky-up hair that’s been stuck to the settee cushion and the make-up I didn’t bother to put on. But even looking as I do, he’s smiling, and the way his eyes almost dance their way into my own it’s as if to him I’m the most beautiful girl in the world. I feel my cheeks reddening and instinctively wrap my arms around my chest. My boobs wobble and I remember I’m not even wearing a bra. When I look back up he’s still smiling.
“Gabriel...”
“No, Tash, not a word, I’ve thought of everything. You’ll find all that you need laid out on our bed.”
I turn away and he takes my arm.
“Our starters will be served in fifteen minutes, so please don’t keep me waiting.”
After changing, I head back downstairs. Gabriel pulls his chair in, and sitting on opposite sides of the table the soft light of the candles flickers as we sip our wine and enjoy his homemade tomato soup, which I really hope I don’t spill down my new red dress.
The long embroidered tablecloth is an ideal mask for his foot, which runs from my ankle up to my inner thigh, where his toes very gently stroke.
“I really didn’t expect this,” I say, taking a bite into a warm slice of buttered bread.
I catch sight of my eternity ring and the small diamonds that glisten.
After we’ve finished our meal, I place my knife and fork on my plate and get up to clear the table.
“No, you don’t,” Gabriel says, reaching across the table for my hand.
“But you cooked.”
“Yes, but it’s your birthday.”
He refills my glass, and tells me to go and pick a DVD for us to watch. I choose The Notebook, probably one of my favourite films, thinking it’ll be a romantic way to round off our evening.
Gabriel cuddles me into his chest, and then Larry, who jumps up onto the settee clearly not wanting to miss out.
I jump as Gabriel nudges me.
“Wake up, sleepy head,” he murmurs, his lips warming the side of my face.
“I wasn’t asleep,” I protest, sitting up straight and brushing his arm away from my shoulder.
I squint over towards the TV screen. The film has moved on and is way past what I remember watching. He gets to his feet and presses pause on the remote control, then tosses it onto the beanbag.
“What say I go upstairs and run us a nice warm bath, and we can watch the rest of this tomorrow?”
I smile. “Sounds nice.”
“Give us a few minutes.” He winks. “I’ll shout down when I’m ready for you.”
He walks out of the lounge and closes the door. I’m in two minds whether to open another bottle of wine. I feel a little dizzy as I get to my feet, but it’s not every day you turn twenty-nine, so I don’t think a couple more glasses will hurt. I take a bottle of white from the fridge, and when I turn back round I notice my phone lying on the work surface. I know Gabriel wouldn’t want me to, but he’s upstairs and a quick peek won’t hurt. There are three texts from Darcy. I laugh to myself; she can never keep her love life to herself. As I scroll down I notice a missed call from Adrianna three hours ago, but I decide it can’t have been that important as she only rang once. As for Darcy, I’ll text her back in the morning.
I touch the screen of my phone to call Adrianna back, though it diverts to answer phone. It’s gone eleven, so she’s probably gone to bed. I consider giving Danielle a bell, but then she’s pregnant as well, so maybe a text wouldn’t hurt.
Everything okay? X
I press send, and putting my phone on the worktop I grab two clean wine glasses from the cupboard. It’s just on the off-chance that when I turn back, I see the screen of my phone illuminate and, holding the stems of the glasses between two fingers, I pick it up with my other hand.
“Tash.” I hear Danielle’s voice.
“Is everything okay?”
“They’re here…” Her voice is quiet and shaky. “They’re here,” she repeats.
“Here? Who’s here?”
“Your girls.”
I don’t feel them fall from my fingers, but I hear the glasses shatter on the tiles below.
“Tash, did you hear what I said?”
I’m nodding, though the words I’m trying to say fail to come out.
“Look, I’ve got to go. We’re in ward sixteen; I’m stopping with them. It’s too late now, but ring in the morning and check the visiting hours.”
I begin to speak, but she’s hung up. I don’t know what else to do with the news I’ve just received.
“Didn’t you hear me calling? The water will be cold by the time you get your arse up the stairs.”
Gabriel is standing in the hallway wearing a pair of black boxers. I see his expression change when he sees the broken glasses.
“Natasha, you’re bleeding.” He points to my feet. “What the fuck’s wrong with you? You’re freaking me out.”
“It’s Adrianna…” I pause taking a deep breath in. “She’s had them.”
“Had them?” He shrugs.
“Yes, had them,” I repeat. “Danielle rang me… I should have been there, I wanted to be there; their birth isn’t something you can replay and I’ve gone and missed it. Our babies were born and I, their mother, wasn’t with them.”
He takes a step forward and frowns.
“I don’t like your tone. I hope you’re not implying that this is all my fault?”
“It is your fucking fault, Gabriel!”
His face is blank.
“You just don’t get it, do you? It’s a moment I can never get back.”
I’ve said all there is to say and don’t feel I’m able to look him in the face a minute longer, so I carefully step over the broken glass and walk out of the kitchen, leaving him alone to pick up the broken pieces. I manage a wry smile, as it’s not only the glasses that have been broken tonight.
Lost in thought, I sink down on the top stair, my eyes a misted haze of tears. I lower my head, blinking down at distorted hands, hands that should be comforting my two baby girls. A solitary tear slips onto my cheek.
I sit lost in my contemplative mood for ten minutes or more. Then, hearing footsteps downstairs, I stand up. Tomorrow is hours away and I know I won’t sleep tonight, but I can’t think of anywhere else I’d rather be than wrapped up in my covers, alone with my thoughts.
I wipe my eyes and make my way towards the bathroom. The door’s been left slightly ajar and I give it a gentle push, then reach to my left and turn on the light. I’m met by unlit candles that sit around the edge of the bath, the steam hanging like a cloud over the hot scented water. I breathe in but can’t place the scent, though it reminds me of summer flowers; quite apt really, as rose petals float on the surface. An hour ago all of this would have been perfect; I can picture myself immersed in the warm water, with Gabriel kneeling on the floor behind me, his fingers massaging my neck and shoulders. Before long we’d have been wrapped around one another, making love.
I sigh and lean back against the tiles. He’s gone all out to make tonight special, a night I’d never forget. We’ve never really had cross words before, and I’ve certainly never spoken to him the way I just did, or shouted or stormed out. If only he hadn’t taken my phone away, we’d have had a wonderful meal and arrived at the hospital in time to welcome our girls. My emotions are a mess; they’re in turmoil. I feel guilty because of all the trouble he’s gone to for me, but then I’m so angry that he’s made me miss out on the one thing in life I wanted more than anything.
The door creaks open and Gabriel ambles into the bathroom. His arm brushes past me as he reaches for his toothbrush, taking it from the small plastic holder. I can sense him watching me through the oval wall mirror, though I don’t look up and instead lean over the bath to pull out the plug, watching the petals spiral round. They say that love and hate go hand in hand, and right now I’d have to agree.
“Probably best you take the spare room,” I say.
He doesn’t argue. I walk into our bedroom, pull the quilt back and throw his pillow onto the landing, slamming the door just hard enough to make sure that he hears.