Page 8 of All Mine
‘Definitely.’
She already loved their enthusiasm for stories and now it seemed they shared a passion for wine too. Things couldn’t be better.
‘We don’t normally drink in the week,’ Wren said as she held out her glass for a top-up.
‘But it’s our night off,’ Rosie finished, waiting her turn with the pour.
‘Riley goes to her daddy on a Wednesday night.’
‘Riley is our daughter.’ Rosie flashed her phone screen towards Isabella, and there was a grinning three-year-old with the same shade of red hair as Wren, wearing a baseball cap on backwards and a smudge of dirt up her cheek.
‘She looks like a handful,’ Isabella said, laughing.
‘You’re not wrong,’ Rosie said, looking at the image herself before putting the phone away.
‘She’s a character all right.’
‘So, you used a donor?’ Isabella asked Wren. ‘To get pregnant?’ She settled back in her chair, intrigued to now hear their own story.
‘Oh, I didn’t get pregnant!’ Wren said. ‘Everyone assumes that. Because of Riley’s hair. And they’re not wrong– she is my child. But I didn’t carry her.’
Isabella frowned, slightly confused and not wanting to say the wrong thing.
‘I did,’ Rosie said proudly and Wren pulled her in close for a squeeze before explaining.
‘My egg– fertilised by our friend Toby– was implanted into Rosie. She carried the pregnancy and gave birth to Riley.’
It made perfect sense. The couple that finished each other’s sentences, why wouldn’t they also finish each other’s pregnancies?
‘So, you’re her biological mother’– she nodded to Wren– ‘and you’re her birth mother’– and she tipped her chin to Rosie.
They both grinned.
‘Bingo.’
‘And the dad?’
‘Our old friend Toby, who has been the most wonderful man through all of this, although I think he’s a bit disappointed Riley’s not interested in letting him play hairdresser.’
‘Yes, she hasn’t got time to sit still for that sort of thing.’ Rosie’s smile was soft.
‘But he has her every Wednesday night without fail and every other weekend too.’
‘Which means we get wine and grown-up time, if you know what I mean.’ Wren was grinning at Isabella, but the look that she flashed at Rosie was something else entirely. A glint in her eye told Isabella everything she needed to know about what the girls would be up to later. And it didn’t include Scrabble.
‘I know what you mean,’ she agreed with a sigh and a glug of wine. ‘But I’m definitely not getting any of that.’ She stretched her arms above her head and let them fall to her sides.
Rosie and Wren straightened up again, flirting on the back burner till later.
‘Why on earth not?’
‘You’re stunning. I’m sure the men are falling over each other for a chance with you.’
‘It’s not so much them as me.’ Isabella took a gulp of her wine and told them about her self-imposed sex ban. Rosie’s eyes grew wider and rounder behind her glasses, until she looked like a beautiful blonde owl.
‘A whole year?’ Wren exploded. ‘I mean, I get your reasoning, I do, your last partner was a lying no-good cheat, but a whole year without sex?’
‘I’ve done over nine months already. . .’ Isabella said. ‘Only two months and twenty-three days to go.’
