‘He’s happy, I think. Things are awkward and tense between us at the moment but it’s bound to take time. We’ve told Frances.’
‘About the affair?’ She goggled at me.
‘No, James wasn’t keen on the idea, unsurprisingly. We’ve told her about the baby.’
‘I imagine she was thrilled her little prince could, in fact, produce little Emsworth swimmers?’
‘Pretty much.’ The waitress approached us and placed our drinks on the table. ‘Megan has a crush on Sam,’ I said, steering the conversation away from myself.
She gawped at me open-mouthed. ‘Really?’
‘Yes. Megan’s very keen.’
‘Wow,’ Kate said, sipping her coffee. ‘So are we going to try a bit of matchmaking?’
‘No way!’ I’d learnt my lesson. ‘As tempted as I am, no. Megan needs to do this herself.’ I sipped my Americano, becoming accustomed to the decaf taste.
‘A few months ago, who’d have thought I’d be the only one with the same partner trying to make things work?’
I smiled. ‘Nowt stranger than folk, my dad would’ve said. So how are things with Carl?’ I asked, remembering her outburst in the bar.
‘They’re good. I don’t know what came over me. Megan was right – the excitement of a new relationship wears off, and in Paris, we found excitement in it not being new, if that makes sense? Knowing one another and being confident together makes us more intense, I just hadn’t given us a chance because I was too busy worrying about losing the buzz.’
I nodded. I knew full well what she meant – it’s what comes after ‘the buzz’ that counts and it was one of the reasons bolstering my forgiveness for James. ‘It’s the not knowing that hurts in the end.’
She patted my hand. ‘I don’t know how you can forgive him.’
‘It isn’t just about me any more.’
Chapter Fourteen
The phone vibrated in my hand. I stared at the unknown number on the screen and took a deep breath before daring myself to answer.
‘Hello?’ I answered curiously.
‘Megan, hi, it’s Andrew.’ Andrew? I almost ended the call immediately.
I thought he was going to WhatsApp me or something. I swallowed hard, ‘Hi,’ I said. ‘How are you?’
‘I’m good, thanks. Sorry for calling out of the blue, I was going to text first—’ like a normal person ‘—but I hate texting so thought I’d just ring.’
On any other occasion, I’d have appreciated the sentiment. ‘That’s okay,’ I said squeezing the phone. I needed to tell him.
‘Now I feel a bit awkward.’ He let out a nervous laugh and the familiarity of his deep, smooth voice from the gym came back to me. ‘I just felt like we’d gotten to know each other and this was the next step, so, here goes. Have you had a nice week?’
‘Yes, it’s been a little chaotic,’ I said, truthfully, easing into the conversation. ‘How about you?’
‘School has been manic – one of my kids spilt PVA all over his assessment book, glueing every single page together right before staff moderation but we had lots of fun picking them apart. Other than that little burst of excitement, it’s been relatively low-key.’ His voice was so manly it sent a shiver up my spine.
‘I bet working with children can be challenging.’
He let out a small laugh. ‘Sometimes, but I love my class like they’re my own kids . . . I’m glad they’re not my own, though – I can just about cling on to my sanity for the six hours a day I spend with them currently.’
I laughed at his sense of humour. ‘You seem to love your job.’
‘I do. What other job could you act the goat all day and have a team of minions running around after you? I’m joking, I do love it. There’s nothing better than seeing them absorb everything and progress. I get quite emotional at the end of the year when they leave me for the scary Mrs Butterworth.’
My chest tightened. ‘Ahh, that’s sweet. I bet your class really look up to you.’
‘I do seem to get the best end-of-year presents. It’s a staffroom joke – the other teachers are very bitter.’ He laughed. ‘Anyway, why are we talking all about me?’
Because you’re lovely. ‘Well, we can change the subject,’ I said. ‘There’s always Notting Hill to discuss.’
‘I’m not sure I appreciate your mocking tone,’ he said, laughing.
‘Okay, I can be serious.’ I put on a deep and serious voice. ‘So, what did you make of the cinematography in Notting Hill?’
‘Hilarious! I’m beginning to think I was wrong about you – perhaps I shouldn’t have shared my deepest, darkest secrets.’
I got that annoying little pang of guilt in my chest again. He was wrong about me. So wrong.
‘I like that you love a chick flick,’ I said cheerfully, masking the guilt-laden, churning feeling that had started up in my stomach.
‘Because it’s masculine and manly and makes you weak at the knees?’
No, it’s because I’m imagining myself snuggled into those strong arms on the sofa, giggling at a romcom and kissing in between the funny bits.
‘Yes, something like that!’ I giggled nervously.
‘What do you think about meeting up?’ he said, catching me off-guard.
Blood started thumping around my head. ‘I . . . er. I’d love to.’
‘Ah, okay, you don’t sound convinced. Was that too soon? I told you I’m new to this?’
I smiled. ‘I’m new to it too! Meeting up would be nice.’ And then I could tell him the truth. Face to face.
***
It was wrong of me, but when my scan date arrived, I didn’t even tell James. It felt too personal to have someone there I felt I barely knew.
‘Will your husband be joining us?’ the sonographer had asked when I arrived. It was the first time I got to see my very own little tiny human. I didn’t want it tainted by his presence.
The first thing I heard was the little heartbeat, fast and loud. ‘And there’s baby,’ the sonographer said pointing to a wriggling mass on the screen. I could just about make out the arms
