Chapter 37
Six months later
‘Raaah, game over.’ Ross dumped the X-Box controller on the sofa. Astro, who’d been snoozing on his lap, looked up, startled and affronted. ‘Suppose I should get in the shower and head home.’
‘There’s no rush.’ I sat down next to him. He slipped his arm round my shoulder and I leaned in for a kiss. I could hear Astro purring – and the feel of Ross’s lips on mine made me want to purr myself. ‘We’ve got another half an hour before anyone comes.’
‘Half an hour, you say? Sounds like enough time to me.’
‘We could shower together.’
‘Maximise efficiencies, as Greg would say.’
‘Exactly.’
Our eyes met and I smiled. Even after so many nights together, in spite of seeing him every day at work, although his body had become as familiar as my own, I still felt a tingling thrill of excitement when he looked at me like that. Sometimes it happened in the lift on our way up to the office, and we’d exchange a sneaky snog before arriving on the sixth floor. Sometimes it was as soon as he arrived at my flat, and we’d have taken our clothes off and be in bed (or on the sofa, or even, once, the kitchen worktop, although I can’t entirely recommend that). Sometimes it was on the Tube home after we’d been out together, and the journey would seem to last an eternity.
‘Come on,’ I said to Astro, ‘I’m afraid you’re going to have to move.’
Twenty-five minutes later, we were lying on my bed, slightly out of breath, still damp from the shower. Astro had joined us and was looking on disapprovingly from my pillow. Reluctantly, I peeled myself out of Ross’s arms and opened my wardrobe, rifling through the hangers until I found the short, purple velvet dress I’d bought in a vintage shop a couple of weeks before.
It was the first garment I’d ever chosen because it was sexy, instead of just because it was cheap or practical or comfortable. In fact, it was none of those things, and it attracted cat hair so badly I had to spend ages lint-rolling it every time I wore it. But I didn’t care – it made me feel fabulous.
‘Look at you.’ Ross slipped his arms round my waist from behind, moving my damp hair out of the way to kiss my neck, then eased the zip up. ‘You look beautiful. I love the way that makes your eyes look the same colour as Astro’s.’
‘Sometimes I wonder if it’s me you’re here for or him,’ I teased.
‘I’ve got kind of fond of both of you.’ He turned me around and kissed me again, on the lips this time.
‘Just as well, since you’ll be living here from next week. And just as well I quite like you, too, otherwise I might not be too happy about finding space for a bicycle and a load of vinyl records.’
‘Love me, love my stuff. Although I’m going to sort through the LPs and take a load of them to the charity shop, like I promised.’
I leaned up to kiss him again, my hands behind his neck, breathing in the clean man-smell of him. I’d never tire of this, I thought – but then I heard the doorbell and had to stop.
‘You can stay if you like,’ I said.
Ross followed me out of the bedroom and to the front door. I opened it and saw Nush and Eve, half-hidden behind a massive arch of pink and blue balloons.
‘How exciting is this?’ Nush squealed.
‘You look amazing, Lucy,’ Eve said. ‘Hey, Ross. Are you going to play fairy godfather? Bet you beat us all in the blindfold nappy-changing challenge.’
Ross looked alarmed. ‘I was just leaving. I’m all for gender equality but I think baby showers are a female-only safe space, right?’
‘It’s never too soon to learn,’ Nush said. ‘After all, you might have your own baby’s nappies to change soon, mightn’t he, Lucy?’
‘Steady on! Not for ages yet, if ever. One grandchild’s more than enough for my mum and dad to handle.’
Together, we carried the arch inside and set it up over the kitchen door. Eve offloaded a couple of carrier bags of clanking champagne bottles.
‘Where’s the cake?’ Nush asked. ‘Can we see?’
‘You can.’ I lifted the lid off a large white box. ‘But it won’t give you any clues.’
It was true – the icing was as smooth, white and even as the box itself. Only Amelie, our parents and I knew the colour of the layers of cake underneath.
‘It’s a girl,’ Eve said. ‘I just know it, and I’m never wrong.’
‘Well, you’ve got a fifty per cent chance of being right,’ Ross said. ‘I’m off. Hope you have a great time. Give Amelie my love.’
Soon, my flat was full of girls, just as it had been before my sister’s hen night. Gifts were piling up on the coffee table. Outsize sugar dummies were hung round all our necks. Miranda had brought a batch of her mum’s famous pakora. The air was full of chatter and laughter.
There were no spangles or tiaras this time, though – the most sparkly thing in the room was the diamond on Bryony’s finger, given to her the previous week by Charlie, the guy she’d snogged just before she ended things with Ross.
It was funny how things worked out, I thought. Here was I, the one who’d been single for the longest, with a boyfriend who was about to move in with me and who I was sure as it was possible to be was my forever person. There was Bryony, who’d taken the wrong course but was now as happy as any newly engaged woman could possibly be.
And there was Amelie, more radiant and beautiful than she’d been even on her wedding day, her silk dress stretched over the bump that was Amelie’s baby and my n— but that was still a surprise.
‘So have you even heard from Zack?’ Caitlin asked.
‘Well, obviously my lawyer contacted his lawyer.’ Amelie smiled, but I knew how much stress and heartache had gone into the back-and-forth over their divorce. At times, it had felt like only the excitement of her baby’s arrival growing closer and closer, and the need to stay strong and healthy, had stopped her falling apart completely.
‘Actually,’ Nush said, ‘he went round to Amelie’s parents’ place and begged her to forgive him and take him back, didn’t he, babe?’
‘He did,’ Amelie confirmed. ‘And once I’d finished laughing in his face, I told him no. But I was the bigger person – I said he can have contact with the baby once it’s old enough, and we can co-parent in a civilised fashion. Which wasn’t what he wanted, but it’s all he’s going to get.’
‘You’ll meet someone else,’ Bryony said. ‘Just wait and see.’
Amelie laughed. ‘You know what? I don’t care if I don’t. I’m done with men – as far as I’m concerned they can all go off and watch Andrew Tate on YouTube and wank themselves into an early grave.’
Apart from Ross, I thought.
‘Now,’ Amelie suggested, ‘maybe we should cut that cake.’
Everyone crowded round, their phones held up to capture the moment. Nush put a stack of plates and napkins ready. I found a breadknife in a drawer and handed it to Amelie, who raised it over the pristine white surface of the cake.
‘Wait!’ I said. ‘Stop. I forgot something.’
I grabbed my sister’s arm and hustled her through the crowd of her friends – who felt like my friends too, now – and into my bedroom.
‘What’s up, Luce? Has my lipstick gone wonky? If I look like shit in my Insta story I’ll be fuming.’
‘No, you’re all good. But we need these.’
I rummaged in my bedside table drawer. The envelope of letters from Kieren wasn’t there any more. I hadn’t burned them or anything dramatic like that, just chucked them in the recycling a couple of months before. They were irrelevant now – only a few pieces of paper that had once been important but now meant nothing.
I produced two small lengths of ribbon, one pink and one blue. ‘Here, to tie on the handle of the knife. For the photos.’
Amelie took them from me, gazing at them like they were the most precious thing she’d ever seen. ‘Luce, I… Thank you. Thank you for making all of this perfect for me.’
‘Don’t be daft. It’s nothing.’
‘It is. It’s a lot. You being here – knowing you’ll always be here – it’s everything.’
I could see her starting to tear up, so I pulled her close and hugged her.
‘Just doing what sisters do. Now you are totally not going to cry, or you really will look like shit on Insta. Got it?’
‘Got it.’ She sniffed and pulled away, smiling. ‘Thanks for the reminder.’
‘You’re welcome.’
Quickly, I tied the ribbon to the handle of the knife and we rejoined the group in the kitchen, waiting while everyone readied their cameras around the cake.
‘Three, two, one…’ Amelie slid the knife deep into its surface, once and then again at an angle, and lifted out a pale-blue slice.
‘It’s a boy!’ everyone chorussed.
I hugged my sister and she hugged me back, and everyone clustered round to congratulate her.
‘I still think you should call him Adam,’ I said.
‘Well, I’m not going to,’ Amelie said. ‘Unless of course I change my mind. But one thing’s for certain. We’re going to make sure he doesn’t grow up to be a dick, aren’t we, Lucy?’