The baby shower is a complete success. Amanda gets lots of essentials for her baby boy, including baby-grows, bottles and toys. Her face lights up as she opens parcel after parcel, which brings tears of joy to my eyes.
‘You’ve done a really lovely thing,’ Scott whispers in my ear. ‘Look how happy she is.’
I smile and link our hands. ‘I’m really glad she’s having such a good time. The baby’s dad isn’t in the picture; he was the bloke who turned up at the bonfire talking about sole custody. Her mum’s not really been involved much either, so I thought having a joint baby shower would be nice.’
‘And that …’ he replies, kissing the top of my head, ‘… is why I love you.’
Baby Robinson does pretty well in the present stakes too. Marilyn and Donald buy me a beautiful blush pink pram with a matching car seat and changing bag. Marilyn also presents a gorgeous little white cardigan that she’s spent the last three months or so working on, along with a huge giftbag of outfits and toys. Emma’s gift is a beautiful hand-made toy elephant wearing a ballerina tutu. Zara is noticeably absent again, but has asked Emma to give me her gift – one of those baby essentials baskets filled with shampoo and other toiletries.
Then, the time comes to receive Mum and Dad’s gift. I can tell Mum’s a little apprehensive that their gift won’t be as good as Marilyn and Donald’s, but she plasters a smile to her face nonetheless.
‘This is just a little something,’ Dad says, shuffling a large box towards Scott and me.
Inside is a beautiful hand-crafted dollhouse. The front is painted powder blue and there are white shutters on the windows. I feel a lump in my throat.
‘Oh my god, this is beautiful,’ I say. ‘She’s going to love this when she’s older! Wait … isn’t this the one I had when I was a kid?’
The more I look at it, the more I recognise it. Someone’s taken a lot of time to restore it, but it’s definitely the same one.
Dad blushes and nods. ‘I dug it out of the attic a couple of months ago and started working on it. I know how much you loved it when you were a kid, so I thought I’d fix it up so your little girl can enjoy it too.’
I jump up from my seat and throw my arms round my dad’s neck.
‘Thank you,’ I say. ‘Thank you so much.’
*
Later that week, it’s time for another Carb Counters meeting. I’m a little tired thanks to an epic trip with Scott round a DIY shop to get paint for the nursery. They’re not fun places anyway, but they’re even worse when you’re six months pregnant.
‘OK, does anyone want to talk about the week they’ve had?’ I ask, taking my seat in the circle. ‘Or any worries they might have? We’re getting pretty close to Christmas and that can be a tough time to be on a diet.’
I cast a glance at Zara, who came into the meeting with bloodshot eyes. I’ve wanted to take her aside and ask her what’s wrong, although I have a feeling I already know, but there hasn’t been time so far.
Sheila raises her hand and I struggle to keep a straight face. She’s been a member of the group for years now and keeps losing and gaining the same seven pounds, with no idea why she’s going round in circles.
‘I’ve got three Christmas dinners to go to on the same day,’ she says. ‘And I don’t know what cake to take. I’m torn between coffee and walnut or a Victoria sponge.’
A small ripple of laughter erupts from the group. It’s been obvious to me for ages that Sheila just comes to the group to socialise with the other members and that losing weight isn’t really important to her. The previous leader, Marjorie, got frustrated with her but I think she’s endearing.
‘Well, what do we think?’ I ask the group. ‘Let’s do a show of hands. Hands up for coffee and walnut cake.’
Four hands go up.
‘OK, and how about Victoria sponge?’
The remaining eleven people’s hands shoot into the air, giving Sheila a clear winner.
‘There you go,’ I say with a smile. ‘Are you sure you don’t fancy trying the Carb Counters guilt-free Christmas pudding? Remember, it’s in the recipe book.’
The group gives a collective shudder as we remember the recipe book Marjorie put together. Most of the recipes were absolutely putrid and we had to pretend to Marjorie that we loved them.
‘The less said about that recipe book, the better,’ Sheila says with a grimace. ‘I think I’ll stick to my Victoria sponge!’
‘I don’t blame you!’ I look at Zara. ‘So Zara … do you fancy telling us about your week? You lost three pounds, which is amazing. How did you do it?’
She stares back at me, the corners of her mouth turned down and her eyes glassy.
‘Well …’ she chokes out. ‘It’s pretty easy to lose weight when you’ve got a broken heart.’
My worst fears have just been confirmed. I sigh, wishing I hadn’t made her say anything.
‘Alright,’ I say, getting up from my seat and clapping my hands. ‘Why don’t we go and get ourselves ready for the workout?’
The rest of the group disperses, but I manage to catch Zara before she goes with them.
‘Hey, what’s going on?’ I whisper. ‘Did something happen with you and Craig?’
She scoffs and pulls her arm out of my grip. ‘Like you’d care. I bet you and Emma had a sweepstake going to see how long it would be before things went wrong.’
‘Of course not! I’ll admit, I was a bit sceptical when you got back together with him because of everything that’s happened before, but I want you to be happy. What happened?’
Zara’s breathing quickens and I can tell she’s desperately trying not to cry. ‘He’s having a baby … with another woman. One of his old flings from when we split up called him and told him she was pregnant. She’s due in April. On my birthday, actually.’
My mouth falls open and I clap my hand over it. ‘Oh my god Zara, I’m so sorry. You must be devastated. Why didn’t you tell me? I could’ve been there for you.’
She shakes her head. ‘You’ve had more than enough to deal with recently. Just ignore me, I’ll be fine.’
I reach out to pull her into a hug, but she spins on her heel and runs off to join the others without another word.
*
I feel like I’ve got the weight of the world on my shoulders as I head back home that night. Zara stormed off at the end of the session without giving me a chance to speak to her, and she hasn’t responded to the three texts I’ve sent.
Scott’s leaning against the banister with a satisfied grin on his face when I get home. There’s a mysterious streak of green paint on his cheek and his hair is speckled with white.
‘You look happy,’ I say, raising an eyebrow. ‘Are you hiding something?’
He shrugs at first, something he knows gets on my nerves. He scrunches up his mouth, like he’s trying to keep a huge secret from escaping.
‘Come on,’ I whine, ‘what is it?’
‘I’ve got a surprise for you,’ he replies, taking my hand in his. ‘It’s upstairs.’
I roll my eyes and grin. ‘If it’s what I’m thinking of, you gave me the same surprise this morning when you brought me breakfast in bed.’
‘Cheeky! No, it’s in here.’ He stops outside the box room, which is usually the place I dump all the clutter I don’t know what to do with. ‘Close your eyes.’
I do as I’m told and he places his hands over them to make sure I don’t peek. I hear the door creak open as he gently leads me inside.
‘You know how we haven’t decorated the nursery yet …’ he says, trailing off.
‘Yeah, because the box room’s an absolute tip. Is this why you’ve had it sealed off for the past two days and won’t tell me what you’re doing in here?’
‘Maybe …’ he replies. I can hear the laughter in his voice. ‘OK, open them.’
When I open my eyes, my breath catches in my throat. The walls have been painted the beautiful spring green colour we picked out together, while the facings and skirting boards have been given a fresh lick of white paint. The floorboards have been sanded with care and the dollhouse my dad restored is sitting in the corner. My eyes are drawn to the left hand wall, where there’s a beautiful woodland mural with a fox, bumblebee and daisies.
‘I know it’s missing furniture,’ he says. ‘But what do you think?’
‘It’s … Oh, come here.’ Words fail me as pure emotion takes over. I spin round and grab Scott, pulling him in for a kiss.
‘You like it then?’ He laughs as our lips part.
‘I love it!’ I squeal. ‘It’s gorgeous. Did you paint that mural over there?’
He nods. ‘I was thinking about that day we went for a walk in the woods and started talking about kids and … I dunno, I thought it’d be nice to have it on the wall.’
I tilt my head to one side. ‘Since you gave me such a lovely surprise, why don’t I give you one of my own?’
His eyebrows shoot up and a knowing grin spreads over his face. ‘Oh, and what might that involve?’
I put my hand on his chest and gently push him out the baby’s room. ‘Well, if I told you that, it wouldn’t be a surprise, would it?’
*
Since I found out I was pregnant, I’ve grown to love it and be excited about the changes my body is going through. The bump came first and, although that was hard to adjust to in the beginning, I’ve grown pretty attached to it now. Every time my little girl kicks, it’s a reminder of the epic adventure we’re about to go on together.
However, some of the changes I’m not so crazy about.
Mainly, the fact that sex has become an Olympic gymnastics routine.
The morning after the Carb Counters meeting, I wake Scott up with a kiss. He murmurs and stirs before greeting me with a sleepy smile. It takes him a moment to take in what I’m wearing: a satin dressing gown and matching nightie.
‘Wow,’ he says, raising his eyebrows in appreciation. ‘Look at you.’
‘You like?’ I ask, doing a little twirl in the limited space I have. ‘I thought since last night was so much fun, maybe we could have a repeat performance today.’
Scott’s grin widens. ‘You are remembering we’ve got a lot on today, aren’t you?’
‘We’ve got plenty of time,’ I reply in my patented ‘sexy’ voice.
I slip the dressing gown off in what I hope is a seductive way, letting the soft fabric pool on the floor at my feet. I run my hands through my hair and start swaying my hips, making the fabric around my bump strain a little. Doing a sexy dance when you have a baby wriggling around inside you isn’t easy. I run my hands through my hair and bite my lip while sashaying my way towards the bed.
As my eyes meet Scott’s, I can see them growing darker and more lustful. He’s watching my every move and I can almost feel the anticipation building within him to see what will happen next. I slide my fingers along the nightie’s straps, teasing him and delighting as his smile grows.
I slip one of the straps down my arm and follow suit with the other. Scott swallows hard and sits up as he continues to watch me like a hawk. I try to slide the delicate nightdress down my body but it gets stuck on my bump and won’t go any further.
Well, this is awkward.
‘Do you need some help?’ Scott asks, his brow furrowing.
‘No, no, I’m absolutely fine!’ My voice comes out a lot shriller than I intended. ‘You just stay right there.’
He tilts his head to one side and tries to hide the amusement already present in his features.
‘You sure?’ he asks.
The more times I fail to get the nightdress off, the more panicked I become. My sexy dance has been ruined, but right now the immediate problem is getting myself out of this mess.
Scott climbs across the bed and pulls the nightdress over my head instead, sliding the straps back up my arms.
‘What are you like?’ he says with a chuckle, leaning in for a kiss.
‘A pregnant whale,’ I reply, gazing down at my bump. ‘Sorry the sexy surprise didn’t really work out.’
He shakes his head and pulls me in for a kiss. ‘You don’t have to dance in front of me to prove how sexy you are!’
I sigh and sit down on the edge of the bed, easing the pressure on my swollen ankles.
‘I just thought I’d try and … I don’t know, keep things fresh!’ I say with a chuckle.
Scott nuzzles his face in at my neck. ‘I know we haven’t been back together very long, but nothing’s changed for me. I still love you as much as I always did; nothing could ever change that.’
I smile and tilt my head to kiss him. ‘I missed you, you know that right?’
He nods. ‘What do you say we cancel on our mums today and spend the day not doing baby shopping?’
His arms wrap themselves around my waist and he gently pulls me down onto the bed with him.
‘We can’t cancel on them today,’ I say, breaking away from him. ‘We’ve still got all the nursery furniture to get, and Marilyn will never forgive us if we don’t go. She might even insist we name the baby after her to make up for it!’
That’s enough to convince Scott, who jumps up from the bed and announces he’s off for a shower.