Page 93 of Come Back To Me

She laughs, and it’s like music to my ears. “Why don’t we just let Jess cook?” she asks as we walk.

“Because she’sourguest. We can’t invite her over then haveher cook.”

I grab a trolley which Lauren takes from me. “At least we wouldn’t be at risk from food poisoning.”

“Hey!”

She skips forward with the trolley, getting out of my reach. “She bringing Axl this time?” My heart warms knowing how much Lauren has enjoyed getting to know my nephew this past month, even if the circumstances surrounding it are shit.

With a slight shrug of my shoulders, I reach for some stir-fry veg, deciding on the easiest meal to cook that I can think of. “Not sure.”

“I hope she does.” Lauren’s cheeks lift as she keeps moving with the trolley. It’s nice to see her happy. She holds up different items of food for my approval before chucking them in. “Can we get some of the real ice cream tonight?”

“Real ice cream?” I question.

“Not the fake stuff you need. I mean the proper stuff. The full fat dairy one that’s going to make me feel sick.”

“Why not,” I say. “We should get some cookie dough, too.”

“Oh, fuck yeah.”

I say nothing, but cock a brow.

Checking my expression, she scrunches her face. “Oops, sorry.” The biggest grin then spreads across it.

All I can do is shake my head at her potty mouth and her ability to get away with it. Although, given she spends every bit of free time she has hanging around Travis, I’m not surprised she’s started talking like a middle-aged man child.

A middle-aged man child who’s holding everything down in the wake of Dean’s absence. I can’t fault him.

It’s stupid really—our new Friday night ritual. More of a necessity to try to dam the turmoil we all individually live with. Girls’ night used to be about drinks and laughter andtogetherness. There’s still togetherness, it’s just now coatedwith a thick layer of sadness. We make the most of it, how women do, but it’s not the same.

“Look at this.” The sound of Lauren’s voice makes me turn to look at her. She’s holding up the tiniest baby onesie I’ve seen. “You should get it.”

“It’s beige.” Not pink how I pray it’ll be.

“Yeah.” She looks at me then back to the small garment before continuing. “You don’t know what you’re having. Beige is safe, suits boy or girl.”

I smile but shake my head. “I want to wait.”

The scrunch of Lauren’s face makes me realise she’s more aware than I give her credit for. “Didn’t Jess say most people have all the gear by now?”

I chuckle under my breath. Most people. Most people aren’t having a baby not knowing when the person they love will come home. Most people don’t have partners facing life in prison on a murder charge.Which is probably more of a reason as to why I should start buying. But I can’t. I can’t do it without him. Can’t stomach the concept of choosing the things we need without him. I don’t have the strength, nor the will to do it.

Does that make me weak? Does that make me a bad mother already? Certainly feels like it. “Yeah, they probably do,” I reply sadly.

Later that evening, once home and showered, we start plating up the food. Jess arrived a little after seven. She left Axl with Max, deciding she needed the break.

Grabbing our plates, we head towards the sofa. I slump, cupping my bump as I move.

“How was the check-up yesterday?” Jess asks. She clicks on the telly then nestles herself at the other end, her legs propped up on the coffee table.

“Yeah, fine.” I feel the baby kick and instantly regret my positioning. “I need to pee.” Placing my food on the table, I thenmake my way upstairs. I take some painkillers for the headache that’s coming, then feel my phone vibrate. It’s Travis.

Travis: Checking in

I wish I could check out.

Me: Thanks. All good here

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