Page 7 of So Thrilled For You

I love this man.

‘Make sure they have exactly 29 of blue and 30 of pink.’

‘I know, babe. I’ll count myself if I have to.’

‘I hope people are hungry enough to eat them when you arrive. There’s a two-hour gap between lunch and the surprise.’

‘It’s doughnuts, Charlotte. People always eat doughnuts when presented with doughnuts.’

I’m picturing Nicki’s face when she realises just how many clues I’ve left for her today, in plain sight, before the big finale. I could almost combust I’m so excited about her surprise. I’ve dug into the very deepest trenches of myself to organisetoday. I got out my own baby shower mood board – the one I’ve been curating for years – and, one by one, I donated all my ideas to Nicki.

I release this into the world with peace and acceptance, I said, as I ordered the wall of peonies from the florist, my heart literally aching from the effort of truly meaning it.

I release this into the world with peace and acceptance,I said, as I planned which pouches of food to wipe in the nappies to make them look like poo.

I let go of my broken hopes,I said, as I organised the craft corner, where guests can draw pictures of what they think Nicki’s baby will look like.I gift this out into the universe.

Iacceptthis isn’t my baby shower, I said, as I ordered a box of teddy bears off eBay to use in the nappy-changing race.It’s alright to feel grief but it’s time to release it into the universe and be free.

I’ve sacrificed my own dream baby shower on the altar of personal growth. It’s Nicki’s now. Not mine. One of my oldest friends. A worthy recipient. I might have cried a dozen times, but I’ve done it. I’m free of it. And today’s going to be perfect.Perfect.

Seth tugs me towards the kitchen, a big dopey smile on his face. ‘Can I tempt you away from your chores and at least make you have some breakfast?’ he asks.

‘I’m not hungry. I still feel off.’

‘At least have something. Dry toast is supposed to help?’

He sits me at our breakfast bar, slices some sourdough, and makes me a decaf coffee. He sits opposite me as we eat, stretching his leg out to play footsie.

‘I still have so much to do,’ I say, taking a tentative nibble of my toast, worrying I’ve not left enough time to stuff the goody bags.

‘We’ve been married three years now, Charlotte. I can say, without a shadow of any doubt, that you had it all sorted a month ago.’

‘Are you sure I shouldn’t have ordered the ice sculpture?’

He laughs. ‘It would be a puddle.’

‘I know, but . . .’

‘Nobody knows you’d planned to have a stork ice sculpture. Nobody will miss it.’

‘ButIknow.’

‘Please, try and relax. You’ve planned the most wonderful day for her.’

‘And you’ll arrive at two on the dot? With Matt?’

He takes another sip of his espresso and nuzzles my foot further. ‘We’re going to watch the final on the outside screen at The Wellington first because we have to do Real Men things before coming to a baby shower.’

‘It’s not technically a baby shower, it’s a gender reveal disguised as a baby shower.’

‘Even more macho then. I better not tell everyone on the trading floor.’

‘You can’t get drunk.’

‘Babe, I know. I’m driving.’

‘I just want it all to be—’

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