That evening, I left work with a smile on my face for the first time in weeks. It was freezing in Manhattan and it was as though the entire island had just remembered Christmas was right around the corner. I pulled the collar of my parka up around my ears even though I wasn’t really that cold. The baby had some kind of inferno magical powers that kept me nice and toasty, even when the temperatures dropped below zero. I was quietly hoping it meant my baby was a superhero, but Alex and the doctor had told me not to get my hopes up. They were such spoilsports.
The Times Square subway station wasn’t even worth considering this close to the holidays – I had no interest in spending forty minutes with my nose stuck in someone’s armpit, with another person’s shopping bags poking me in the bum. Instead of taking the stairs deep, deep down under the city, I wandered along 42nd Street, smiling at people in Santa hats and reindeer antlers. On any given evening in December, you were guaranteed to run into someone’s Christmas party. It had always been my favourite time of year; everyone looked happier, kinder, more forgiving, and I couldn’t stop thinking, as I trotted along to Bryant Park, this time next year the baby would be here.
‘Sorry! Happy holidays!’
A young couple in matching Santa outfits and enormous white beards buzzed by, turning me around as they went. I reached out for the wall to steady myself as they rushed by, grabbing hold of each other until they came to a dizzy stop in each other’s arms and kissed, their red noses colliding in the crisp night air.
‘Ahh,’ I sighed, enjoying their romance while simultaneously checking they hadn’t stolen my wallet. This was New York, after all.
The ice rink in Bryant Park was packed. Tuesday, Wednesday, Friday, Saturday, it didn’t matter. New York had swollen to twice its size, taking in visitors from all over the world, looking to find their Christmas miracle. Or at least a fancy handbag that was slightly cheaper than it would be at home. Beyond the ice rink was a market, red-and-white-striped stalls selling knickknacks and tat – by far my favourite form of merchandise – and filling up empty stomachs with hot mulled wine and chestnuts roasted on an open fire. I stood still for a moment, trying to capture the moment. So many happy people in one place at once. It was not something to be taken for granted.
‘Hey, babe.’
‘Hi!’
Alex Reid, freshly shaven and armed with shopping bags of his own, leaned down to kiss my lips. His face was cold but his eyes were bright.
‘Five days ago, I was on a deserted beach,’ he said wistfully, looking over at the pulsating swarm of bodies in the Christmas market. Little puffs of warm air followed his words every time he spoke.
‘You want to go back?’ I asked, checking my phone and smiling. She was on her way.
‘I’m good,’ he replied, reaching into the Bloomingdale’s bag in his hand. ‘Hey, look, I couldn’t help myself.’
‘You went to Bloomingdale’s without me?’ I wailed, pressing my hands over my mouth as he held up a little white onesie with a guitar on the front. He turned it around and, on the back, it read ‘I’m with the band’.
‘I had to,’ he said as I snatched it out of his hands. ‘Really, what choice did I have?’
‘This baby is going to be so well dressed,’ I said, my heart stopping at the price on the tag. How could this possibly cost fifty dollars? ‘Thick as a pig because we won’t be able to afford to send it to school, but incredibly well dressed. Do you have any idea how much it costs just to make sure your child doesn’t turn into a coked-out smack whore around these parts?’
‘Why?’ Alex asked. ‘Is it cheaper in England?’
‘It’s funny, if you go to normal school in England, you’ll probably just end up sniffing glue or doing poppers in GCSE science. You have to pay to go to private school to end up a cokehead,’ I explained. ‘But here, it seems fairly lose-lose. Send them to normal school and they’ve got no hope of getting into a good college. Send them to private school and they’re going to end up working as a high-class escort to pay for their Molly habit and possibly drown in the basement swimming pool of their Upper East Side schoolmate.’
Alex met me with a stern look.
‘Have you been rewatching Gossip Girl?’
‘For research,’ I nodded gravely.
‘I know we’re not rolling in money but we’re not exactly living on the street either, we’ll make it work,’ he said, taking back the onesie and putting it safely inside the bag. ‘My baby is going to have the best of everything, whatever it takes. Me and Graham have so many great ideas for the next record, it’s going to kill.’
‘And do you think there’s a chance you can record it and tour it before the baby is born?’ I asked. ‘Because today I found out I only get three months’ maternity leave and literally no pay while I’m off.’
‘What did you tell me about keeping your blood pressure down,’ he asked. ‘You cannot get stressed about these things, we’ll figure them out. We’re not the first people in New York City to ever have a baby.’
‘No, I know,’ I agreed. He was right, I needed to calm down. And I needed some roasted nuts. ‘At least I’ve got really good health insurance with work.’
‘Good point, more things like that please,’ Alex said, taking my hand and leading me into the market. ‘I said I’d meet him by the mulled wine.’
‘Might be a bit of a problem if I get the sack tomorrow,’ I mused as we wove our way through the throngs of people. ‘But heigh-ho.’
‘Getting back to the positive stuff,’ he urged gently. ‘Have you thought about names?’
‘What if they do sack me, though?’ A warm flush of anxiety started at my toes and raced all the way up to my face. ‘I can’t be a stay-at-home mum forever, Alex. I’d lose my mind, I’d be the size of a house inside a week, you’d have to wash me with a rag on a stick. I need my life, I love my life.’
‘I was thinking Patti for a girl and maybe Elliot for a boy,’ Alex went on. ‘Or even Elliot for a girl. That works too, what do you think?’
‘Everything’s changing so quickly,’ I said, offering no response to his ridiculous names. ‘Even Chocolate Oranges have changed. I bought one from the English shop while you were away and they’ve taken the middle bit out and the foil is basically plastic now; you can’t rewrap them properly after you’ve had a bit.’
‘Babe,’ Alex took my manically waving hands in his and secured them against his chest. ‘When was the last time you rewrapped a Chocolate Orange?’
‘It took me three days to finish it,’ I said fearfully. ‘Maybe that was a sign. A terrible, terrible sign.’
‘I might have some money coming in soon,’ he said. ‘I was catching up on my emails and there was something from the licensing team at the label. Someone wants to use “Night Song” in something. I’m not sure what yet, but they actually want to pay.’
Ooh, pay meant money.
‘On a soundtrack or something?’ I asked. ‘Like, in a movie?’
‘Night Song’ was one of my favourite songs from Stills’ last album, mostly because Alex said he’d written it for me. I really couldn’t see the point in being married to a musician if you couldn’t at least get a couple of good tunes out of it to brag about on Facebook.
‘I guess, he didn’t say.’ He leaned in and kissed my cheek, gently patting my belly at the same time. ‘I’m gonna talk to them tomorrow. I doubt we’re talking retire-in-the-Bahamas cash but it’s better than nothing.’
‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘I bet you could retire in the Bahamas on next to nothing. Once you’ve bought our house, what else do you need? I’d probably do a lot less online shopping in the Bahamas and—’
‘Hey,’ he nodded across the ice rink, ‘here she comes.’
‘And he’s over there,’ I said, pointing to the mulled wine stand. ‘Are you ready for Operation Jentervention?’
‘Fuck no,’ he replied, cheerful as you like. ‘But let’s go force our friends to get back together whether they like it or not.’
Breaking apart, I jumped into the crowd to intercept Jenny while Alex headed Mason off at the pass. Tricking them into meeting up had been my idea, but Alex was the genius who suggested the very public setting. They were far less likely to spill blood with lots of people watching.
‘I know you’re pregnant, but I need to get wasted,’ Jenny said, leaning in for a double air kiss. ‘I had the shittiest day in history.’
‘Then this is going to be a wonderful surprise!’ I said, standing to the side to reveal Alex and Mason. Even though I’d seen Jenny look better, Mason looked like he was in a world of pain. It was only three days since they’d called it quits but he looked like he’d been living out by the bins for a month.
‘You start,’ I said to Alex, patting the front of his leather jacket while our formerly affianced friends stared at each other, speechless. ‘You’re the songwriter.’
‘You’re the writer,’ he replied, nervously flipping his attention between the two. ‘Why aren’t they saying anything?’
‘Then I’ll start,’ I said, waving a hand in front of Mason’s glassy eyes. ‘Before I do, please don’t hurt me, Mason, I’m pregnant.’
‘I know,’ he said, snapping to attention. ‘Jenny told me.’
‘You did?’ I turned on my friend who shrugged.
‘Sure,’ she replied. ‘He swore he wouldn’t say anything.’
‘How long have you known?’ I asked, looking back up at Mason and trying not to get a crick in my neck.
‘Uh, a couple of weeks?’ he guessed, checking with Jenny. She nodded and made a more-or-less gesture with her hand. ‘I don’t know, when did you move into Jen’s place?’
‘You told him right away!’ I wailed. ‘Jenny!’
‘I tell him everything,’ she wailed back. ‘You know I can’t keep a secret!’
‘Did you tell him what you told me on Saturday night?’ I demanded, hands on my quickly expanding hips.
‘Which part?’ she asked quietly.
‘The part where you said you just wanted to marry him and only wanted a big wedding to show people how much you love him,’ I prompted. ‘Not that part where I found you in an alleyway, covered in disgusting bin juice.’
‘No, because he’s an asshole who doesn’t love me and never really wanted to get married in the first place,’ she replied, folding her arms over her pea coat and refusing to look at Mason. ‘And it’s really hard to tell him anything when he won’t return my calls.’
‘You called me once!’ Mason volleyed back. ‘And when I tried to call you on Sunday, you’d blocked my number!’
‘You did?’ Alex winced. ‘Cold, Lopez.’
‘I did?’ She pulled out her phone to check. He was right. ‘Wow, old habits, huh?’
‘I do love you,’ Mason said, chopping one giant palm with his other giant hand. ‘And I do want to marry you. But I don’t want to spend the same amount of money on a wedding that we could use to put down a deposit on a house. The things you were talking about, Jen, we could put our kids through college with what you wanted to spend.’
‘Our kids?’ she asked, gnawing on her thumbnail.
‘Yeah.’ He pulled her hand out of her mouth. ‘Don’t bite your nail, you know how mad you’ll be if it breaks.’
‘I don’t want to spend that much money,’ she said, sticking her hands deep into her coat pockets. ‘They were just ideas I was coming up with. You didn’t have to be such an asshat about it.’
‘I overreacted,’ Mason admitted. ‘I’ve been losing my mind about all the restructures at work and I didn’t want to worry you. I guess I convinced myself if I couldn’t give you the wedding you deserved, I didn’t deserve you.’
‘Look at them,’ I whispered to Alex, resting my head on his arm. ‘They’re talking to each other!’
‘All I want is to marry you,’ Jenny said, biting her bottom lip and looking upwards. I recognized it as her I’m-not-going-to-cry face. ‘I don’t care where we do it, Mase.’
‘Maybe we could do it at my brother’s house upstate,’ he suggested, reaching out to pull her into a hug.
‘No,’ she replied quickly, burying her face into his torso. ‘I don’t think so.’
‘Hey, let’s do this properly.’ Mason released his re-fiancée and pulled his wallet out of his jacket pocket. ‘I kept this with me, just in case.’
Lowering himself onto one knee, he held out Jenny’s ring as people formed a circle all around us.
‘Jenny Lopez, will you marry me possibly in Maui, possibly in New York but definitely not in my brother’s house?’ he asked.
‘Yes!’ Jenny said, tearing her leather gloves off with her teeth and hurling them in my general direction. ‘You know I will, dickface.’
‘Young love,’ Alex sighed, kissing the top of my head.
I, and approximately half the city, began to clap as Mason picked Jenny up off her feet and spun her around in a big circle. I gave her an enthusiastic thumbs up, holding her gloves in my teeth as she leaned towards me over his shoulder.
‘You really didn’t have to mention the alleyway part,’ she hissed. ‘Dick.’
‘Those two crazy kids,’ I said to Alex. ‘Our work here is done.’
‘Good, this jetlag is playing havoc with my appetite,’ he said. ‘Can we get something to eat? I’m starving.’
‘How do you always know just what to say,’ I said, embracing him happily. ‘Pizza?’
‘Pizza,’ he confirmed.
Truly, there could not have been a better end to a worse day.