Page 24 of Someone Like You

‘Ahem! It wasn’t an immaculate conception, you know.’

‘Ravi, that’s crass,’ chides Jacinda as I let her go.

‘Congratulations,’ I say, giving him a hug. ‘Now you’ll have areasonto tell dad jokes.’

‘Oi,’ he replies, making me laugh.

‘See? I already find you funnier.’

He shakes his head at me, his mouth stretching into a reluctant grin.

‘Congratulations,’ says Tristan, having left his post. He hugs Jacinda, then shakes hands with Ravi.

‘Tris, what about the polenta?’ asks Jacinda, eyeing the pot on the stove.

‘I’ve turned off the hob. Your news trumps smooth polenta, Jacinda,’ he says with a grin. ‘And we can do better than this for a celebratory drink,’ he says, taking her water glass. He heads back into the kitchen. ‘How about a round of mocktails so we can toast your good news?’

‘I won’t say no to that,’ replies Jacinda, beaming.

I stand between Jacinda and Ravi, hooking my arm over theirshoulders. ‘So, when is Baby Sharma due?’ I ask, looking between them.

‘The beginning of summer,’ Ravi replies.

‘Oh, a Cancer!’ I declare, and Ravi groans, his eyes rolling dramatically.

‘Ravi thinks astrology is a load of rubbish,’ Jacinda tells me.

‘Yes, I’m married to a sceptic as well,’ I reply, shooting an amused look at Tristan.

‘Because itisa load of rubbish!’ he calls over his shoulder.

‘Are you going to find out the baby’s sex before they’re born?’ I ask, ignoring Tristan. I scoot around Jacinda and slide onto the stool next to hers.

‘We’re not sure,’ Ravi replies.

‘We don’t care either way, of course,’ says Jacinda. ‘We just want a healthy child.’

‘And we’d happily wait till the baby’s born…’

‘We would, but my mum’s another story,’ Jacinda interjects. ‘She’ll want to know as soon as possible if she’s finally getting a granddaughter.’

‘Ahh, therearea lot of boys in your family,’ I say. Jacinda has three older brothers, and they all have sons – one of them hasthree.

‘Precisely.’

‘Well, whoever Baby Sharma is, they will be so,soloved.’

‘Thanks, Poppy,’ says Jacinda, covering my hand with hers.

‘And here we are,’ says Tristan, bearing a pitcher filled with a colourful concoction and a tray with four glasses. ‘Shall we sit on the sofas?’

‘Good idea,’ says Ravi, climbing off his stool and stretching his arms overhead.

We make our way to the two facing sofas and get comfy. Tristan smacks a kiss onto my cheek – a delayed ‘welcome home’ – then pours from the pitcher and hands out the mocktails. When we allhave one, he raises his. ‘To our dear friends, Ravi and Jacinda, and their soon-to-be addition to the family.’

‘To us,’ says Ravi. He leans in and kisses Jacinda tenderly – an extremely unusual display of affection for the Sharmas.

‘To us,’ she says quietly, and they lock eyes as they sip.

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