37. Fae
FAE
The sunlight filters through my new kitchen whilst ‘Iloveitiloveitiloveit by Bella Kay’ blasts through the speakers and I sway my oversized hips around the island with a wooden spoon in my hand.
Warm August air drifts through the open windows carrying the smell of fresh-cut grass and vanilla icing whilst flour coats almost every surface around us.
I bump into the table and wince before lunging forward to stop the stupid ceramic cow Riggs bought me last week from toppling over.
There’s a bowl of cake batter on the island, half-decorated cupcakes lined up beside it and enough melted chocolate smeared across the counters that Roman is probably going to have an aneurysm when he gets home from work.
Actually, knowing Roman, he’s going to blame Riggs immediately.
Which would be fair because Riggs is currently standing opposite me in an apron that says kiss the cook whilst aggressively whisking icing like it personally offended his entire bloodline.
“You’re doing it wrong,” I tell him whilst licking chocolate off my thumb.
Riggs gasps dramatically. “Excuse me? I’ll have you know I’m basically Gordon Ramsay with better tits.”
I stare at his completely flat chest.
“Where?”
“Rude,” he points the whisk at me. “Just because yours are now the size of melons doesn’t mean I’m not hiding a solid pair under all this.”
A laugh bursts out of me before I move around the kitchen island and peek into the bowl. The icing somehow looks both overmixed and lumpy at the same time. I genuinely don’t understand how he’s managed it.
“Why is it grey?” I ask cautiously.
Riggs looks down as his confidence visibly falters.
“It’s not grey.”
“It looks like concrete.”
“Okay well maybe if somebody bought better food colouring—”
“You used half the bottle!”
“Because I committed to the vision, Fairy.”
I snort out another laugh as I reach over and steal the whisk from him before he completely destroys the icing beyond repair. The kitchen door suddenly slams open hard enough to make me jump and Robyn storms inside looking furious.
“I said no,” Robyn barks.
Felix appears behind her a second later with frustration written all over his face. “You can’t just avoid the conversation forever, Robyn.”
“I’m not avoiding anything,” she snaps whilst ripping open the fridge aggressively. “I just don’t want what you want.”
The air instantly shifts and I slowly lower the whisk whilst tension crawls heavily through the kitchen.
No matter how many times I ask, neither of them will actually tell me what’s happening between them, but whatever it is seems to be getting worse.
I keep trying to tell Robyn that it’s okay to lean on Felix, that it’s okay to love him after everything they’ve survived together, but she shuts down every single conversation before it can properly begin.
For a while Felix seemed to be her safe space.
She welcomed the support he offered and let him hold her together when everything else was falling apart, but now it’s like something’s changed.
Like his love has started feeling more like pressure and every time he reaches for her, she pulls a little further away.
Felix’s jaw is tight enough to crack whilst Robyn refuses to properly look at him as she grabs a bottle of water and slams the fridge door.
“You’re being unfair.”
“And you’re being controlling.”
Felix lets out a humourless laugh before dragging a hand over his face.
“Really? We want to go there?”
“Don’t you fucking dare!”
“Nix…”
“No, don’t fucking Nix me, Felix. I am not interested.”
“You know what?” he sighs. “Fine.”
He turns and walks straight back out of the kitchen again. Robyn stares down at the bottle in her hand like she is already regretting the entire conversation whilst Riggs slowly looks toward the ceiling before side-eyeing me.
“Ah,” he says knowingly. “True love.”
I bite back a smile before starting on the icing again.
The new house still doesn’t fully feel real yet.
There are boxes stacked in corners we still haven’t unpacked, baby clothes draped over radiators and enough people constantly wandering in and out that Roman’s slowly starting to look one inconvenience away from committing an unsanctioned homicide, but there’s something warm about it too.
It’s chaotic and loud.
It’s alive.
Survival has been the only thing any of us focused on that sometimes moments like this still catch me off guard. Riggs reaches over and steals a finger full of icing before immediately grimacing.
“That tastes like shit.”
“Well maybe that’s because you made concrete frosting,” I tease before swallowing the gag as I taste it myself.
“I was trying to honour Mumzy actually,” he says defensively before his voice catches as he looks at me. “Fi always made the icing from scratch.”
The kitchen falls quiet as pain twists sharply through my chest. My eyes drop toward the bowl in front of me.
Fiona always used to say people deserved sweetness when the world was so sour and somehow, she always knew exactly when one of us needed it most. I hear Robyn choke out a sob and my head snaps up toward her.
Her face crumples as she presses the heels of her hands against her eyes.
“Come here,” I say softly, opening my arms.
She crosses the small distance between us immediately before folding herself tightly into me.
It’s been four months and I wouldn’t say it’s easier, but we made a pact to talk about her as much as possible because none of us can bear the thought of her becoming something we avoid.
Fiona deserved more than silence after everything she did for us.
She died trying to save the people she loved and there’s something unbearably cruel about letting her love turn into silence.
So now… we speak about her constantly. Sometimes it ends in laughter.
Sometimes it ends in tears. Sometimes one of us has to leave the room entirely because the loss still hits too hard.
But we do it anyway. Because forgetting her would hurt far more than remembering ever could.
Beside me Riggs sniffs aggressively before clearing his throat loud enough to break some of the heaviness settling over the kitchen.
“Well,” he mutters, gesturing toward the bowl of ruined icing. “This icing is shit but I think she’d still be proud of me.”
A laugh escapes me as I open my arm toward him and he comes bouncing towards us before folding himself into the hug alongside Robyn.
The three of us just stand there clinging onto each other in the middle of the flour-covered kitchen.
My bump gets awkwardly squashed between all three of us and I grunt as the baby immediately kicks in protest.
“What in the fucking Kumbaya is going on here?” Victor growls from the doorway.
All three of us separate instantly. Victor looks between our faces, then toward the flour covering the counters before his eyes slowly narrow with understanding.
“Ah,” he says quieter this time. “Fi was mentioned, wasn’t she?”
“She was,” Robyn sniffles before quickly taking another sip of her drink.
I force myself to smile as I reach toward the whisk only to freeze halfway there when I notice the enormous box balanced on top of Victor’s shoulder.
A frown immediately pulls at my face. He looks proud as punch as he shifts it onto the other shoulder like he’s just returned from war instead of whatever shopping trip he’s clearly been terrorising the local population on.
“…What is that?” I ask cautiously.
Victor’s chest puffs out slightly, “it’s for my nephew.”
I stare at the box. Then at him. Then back at the box again.
“Victor,” I say slowly, “why does my unborn child need something the size of a small vehicle?”
Riggs immediately abandons the icing and practically launches himself at the box.
“Oh my God,” he gasps dramatically whilst reading the side. “It’s one of those electric cars kids can drive around in.”
My eyebrows shoot upwards. “You bought him a car?”
“It has a remote control,” Victor says seriously like that somehow explains everything. “And working headlights.”
Robyn snorts into her drink whilst I blink at him in complete disbelief.
“Vic,” I press my fingers against my temple, “the baby can’t even hold his own head up for months let alone operate heavy machinery.”
Victor frowns slightly at the box like this information genuinely never occurred to him.
Honestly, none of the boys seem capable of acting normal about this baby anymore.
Ever since my bump started properly showing they’ve all completely lost their minds in different ways.
Atlas has installed enough security cameras around the house to monitor a small country.
Riggs keeps buying tiny Leeds United football kits despite the fact me nor Roman support them and Felix has become so overprotective that last week he nearly argued with an old woman in Tesco because she said my bump looked “small.” Victor’s obsession mostly seems to involve buying increasingly unhinged gifts that the baby won’t realistically be able to use for another five years.
Silence stretches.
Then he shrugs, “we’ll make it work.”
Before any of us can stop him, he turns and starts carrying the giant box out of the kitchen toward the nursery upstairs. Robyn shakes her head before stepping toward me and rubbing softly over my bump. The baby immediately chases the feeling with a series of tiny kicks and her whole face softens.
“Your uncles are insane,” she stage whispers toward my stomach and I giggle.
Robyn glances up at me whilst I wink at her.
“He’s definitely going to be spoilt,” she smiles softly.
“Oh absolutely,” I snort. “Roman has already threatened three separate people for looking at me too long and Atlas researched the safest baby mattresses for twelve hours straight.”
Riggs gasps dramatically from the other side of the kitchen. “I would just like it officially noted that I’m going to be the cool uncle.”
“You’re absolutely going to teach my child how to get away with crime.”