Reeve looks at me and lifts his shoulders.
“Well, you’re no help,” I tell him before turning to Owen. I could almost swear I catch a small grin on Reeve’s face. Smug little bugger has been back with Emilia for the past week since the accident.
“Em wants it to be a surprise,” Owen says, handing me my second cupcake of the bag. I scoffed the first one down in a few bites, and now it’s sitting uncomfortably in my chest.
“I know, but it isn’t. I already know they’re throwing me a baby shower. We might as well sit in the comfort of my home rather than be out.”
“Give them another thirty minutes?” he pleads. Of course, I concede.
“Not to be rude or anything, but why is Reeve here and Ali isn’t?” I ask Owen before turning to Reeve. “No offense.”
“None taken,” he replies, features still showing the same cool indifference he’s mastered so well. To be honest, I don’t even think it’s a façade. I think he just has resting bitch face.
“He was needed for something.” Owen takes a bite of my cupcake and grins.
“Hey!” I snap, reaching for it back. I can’t help but smile at him, his emotions contagious. His foot nudges mine under the table. I knock his back.
“So you two, huh?” Reeve’s voice interrupts us and we both turn to him.
“What? No, we’re just friends,” I tell him.
“Yeah,” Owen adds in. I kick him under the table. He bites down on his lips to hide his smile.
Reeve nods, clearly skeptical. He goes back to looking at his phone, genuinely seeming not to care. I narrow my eyes at Owen before finishing off the rest of the cupcake, smiling triumphantly when he eyes the crumbs with disdain.
We hang out for another hour before Em texts Reeve that we’re allowed to come back to the flat. We walk up the main road, my bladder about to burst when I finally get inside.
“Surprise!” Stana and Em yell. I put on my best face of shock, pulling them each in for a hug when I see all the effort they’ve gone to. Thankfully they listened when I said I only wanted it to be our small group.
Pale pink and white balloons fill my living room, presents littered across the table while enough food to feed an army sits upon my dining room table.
“Wow,” I say, clearly speechless.
“Did we go over the top?” Em laughs, but Stana lightly smacks her arm.
“Of course we didn’t! Lottie’s little girl deserves only the best.” Stana beams, leading me over to the couch. I spot Ali in the corner, smiling. He’s eyeing Stana with awe, clearly proud of his girl.
“This is all amazing,” I tell them, giving each an extra-tight hug before eyeing the food and mentally deciding how I will eat all of it.
“Oh, wait, we have to show her the baby’s room!” Stana squeals. My eyebrows draw together. This is a one-bedroom flat, so either the baby has taken over my room or I’ve misheard.
“What do you mean?”
Stana grabs my hand and leads me into my bedroom. I cringe when I think of the state it was in this morning when I left the house. Yet to my utter surprise, once the door is pulled open, it’s unlike anything I’ve seen before. This room has always been big, but I’ve never been one to fully utilize it. I’ve got no time for decorating or folding laundry, so it’s essentially just been one big messy closet for the past few years.
My bed has been pushed closer to the wall on the far right, perfectly made with my side table still there. But instead of all the dead space on the other side, there is a white cot, with yellow flowers painted on the wall behind it. Instantly I know Em did them. A far-too-familiar rocking chair sits in the corner. It’s the same one my mother had from when I was a child.
I keep looking around, taking everything in. My old brown dresser has been refurbished, now a shabby-chic white with an assortment of teddies and baby essentials neatly placed atop it, also doubling as a change table. Photographs line the walls, keeping the room balanced between mine and the baby’s.
“I don’t even know what to say,” I whisper.
“I take it we didn’t destroy your bedroom for nothing?” Stana looks anxiously at me, and a laugh escapes my mouth at the fact that she could even imagine I might not like it.
“I love it. It’s everything.”
She places her hand over mine and gives it a squeeze.
“I’m guessing this is what you needed Ali’s help for?” I ask.
“We needed him to help with building everything,” Stana tells me. My gaze finds Ali across the room.
“Thank you,” I tell him, throat thick.
Smiling, he nods. “Of course.”
“How did you find the time to get all of this stuff? I mean, that rocking chair. All this furniture.” I let my eyes scan the room again, trying to convince myself it’s real.
“Well, we had help,” Em says, motioning with her head toward Owen, who is acting way too casual.
Turning to him, I laugh. “Of course.”
His cheeks redden lightly, a small smile tracing his lips. I try to hold back tears, knowing I will thank him later in my own way.
“Oh, and there is actually one more thing,” Owen says. His lips purse together; he’s clearly trying to hide something.
“Any more surprises and I think I’m going to faint,” I reply.
“Well, we wouldn’t want that,” a voice says. I nearly do pass out when my mum buzzes into the room.
“Oh my God!” Stana yells out, seeing her aunt, my mother.
“You didn’t think I’d miss today, did you, Lottie?” My mother’s warm face smiles at me as she walks forward and encases me in a hug. I shudder in her arms, not having realized till this moment how much I missed her.
“It’s okay, my darling girl, don’t cry,” she tells me, running her hand down
