Page 14 of Stuck in Paradise with You

‘Sorry,’ I say. ‘I guess I thought.’

I’m mindlessly gesturing between Alisha and Luke, and,oh God,I bet he’s thinkingthat Icare.

I don’t. I don’t care whether he has kids or not. I just… thought he did.

‘Not his either,’ Alisha says. ‘Neither of us have our own kids. They’re both my sister’s. She and Joe will have themselves a football team soon. Char is short for Charithonia, after the island.’

‘Ohhhhhh,’ I say, feeling like such an idiot.

‘Luke is a good father figure, though,’ Alisha adds, thankfully taking the focus off me. ‘He’s godfather to all these mites.’

‘We are absolutely four and done,’ Ella says. ‘There’ll be no football team.’

I smile, as if I don’t feel the height of awkwardness. I’ve even managed to make Luke look embarrassed for me, if his twiddling with the base of his wine glass is anything to go by. Lukeneverused to embarrass. Not when people complimented him, not when he made an error, not when he made an incorrect assumption, and not when he whispered dirty talk against my neck.

My next inhale is unsteady.I don’t know Luke at all.Not anymore.

While Ella and Alisha animatedly discuss the merits and harsh realities of children, I’m drawn like a magnet to the last face on earth I want to be sitting opposite.

I find Luke staring back at me. Smug. ‘Problems and solutions, Carrie.’

Solutionthis. It may be immature flipping someone the bird under the dinner table but it really does feel good. So good, I’m able to plant a grin the size of a Cheshire cat’s on my face as I do it.

‘So you aren’t sleeping your waytothe top, then? You’re just sleeping aroundatthe top.’

His eyes narrow, his jaw stiffens, then he shakes his head, unspeaking, like I’m being too petulant to indulge me with a response. That’s possibly true but I pick up my glass of wine and sip it with a supercilious smirk that could rival the one he was wearing just moments ago.

‘What about you, Carrie? Do you have any kids?’ Ella asks.

Phssssst.My wine sprays from my mouth.

‘Sorry.’ Then I choke, making an even bigger scene. ‘Went down the wrong way,’ I croak. In the process, obliterating my one-upmanship.

I hate Luke.Hatehim.

When I’m composed, I tell Ella, ‘I do, actually.’ And I relish every split second of realization dawning on Luke.

You’re not the only person who moved on, asswipe.

I let my words hang in the densely humid air just long enough to ensure they’ve registered, but I would never,couldnever, use children as pawns in a game. I spent my teenage years being exactly that between my parents.

So I tell them, ‘He’s about eight inches tall and weighs nine pounds. He has a feisty bark and a squishy nose. His name is Eddie.’

‘You’re a puppy momma?’ Jenny asks giddily.

I nod. ‘I co-doggy-parent an adorable pug.’

If I’m not mistaken, two peculiar things happen simultaneously. First, Luke’s body seems to deflate with my words, as if he cares. That, I’m sure, is a figment of my imagination – not that I care. I don’t.

Secondly, Ella and Joe share a most peculiar and unreadable look, but if I were wearing it, it would feel like… relief?

The upshot is, the table falls into silence.What have I said?

Thank goodness for Henry, Jenny and the random musings of the four children, who seem to provide the only safe and untargeted conversation of the long and tedious hour at the table.

It’s only 9p.m. and I’m exhausted by the back and forth between schmoozing my client and revisiting one of the bleakest periods of my life.

So when Ella declares she’s going to put the kids to bed and Alisha offers to help, I consider my options.

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