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|Fall From India Place(On Dublin Street #4)(45) by Samantha Young|
I eyed her baby bump and put a fresh cup of tea down on the table beside her. She was almost eight months pregnant. “Not long now.”
“I know.” She sighed wearily. “I’m so agitated. Ellie, on the other hand, is all relaxed and sweetness and light. I want to kill her,” she growled, and I believed she might have meant it. “Being pregnant together was supposed to be fun, but she’s ruining the fun by being normal and rational.” She said the word “rational” like it tasted like dirt.
I laughed. “The old hormones getting to you, eh?”
“I am such a bitch.” She widened her eyes in horror. “I don’t even recognize myself sometimes and I can’t stop myself when I’m in the middle of being a bitch. Cam’s turned Cole’s old room into a sanctuary. I even caught him looking at locks the other day. I think he’s genuinely considering fitting a lock to that bedroom door so he can keep me out.”
It was difficult not to laugh at the visual and the fact that out of everyone, Jo would be the last person I’d have thought would be crazy with pregnancy hormones.
She was right. Ellie had been very chilled out when she was pregnant with William, and she was just as laid-back this time around, if not more so.
Suddenly Jo blanched. “I’m sorry, Hannah,” she whispered. “I don’t mean to complain.”
“You’re allowed to complain. Don’t ever be sorry.” My phone buzzed before Jo could respond.
Swiping the lock screen, I frowned at the text message that appeared.
“No. It’s Suzanne.”
So? New guy, no time for your girls?
I held it up to Jo so she could read it. Jo curled her lip in annoyance. “Why are you friends with that girl?”
Shoving my phone back in my pocket without texting back, I shrugged. “The hope had been that she’d finally grow up and become a real person, but so far no such luck.”
“I’d just ignore her until she gets the picture.”
“I’m not sure if I want to completely cut her out of my life. She was once a close friend.”
“Pfft. Hannah, she’s never been much of a friend to you. Ever.”
I exhaled, not really knowing what to do about Suzanne. The truth was, I hadn’t seen Suzanne or Michaela in weeks. I’d spoken to Michaela on the phone, and she was cool because she understood – she was just as busy with work and with Colin.
However, after the run-in with Suzanne when I’d met Marco for drinks, my patience with her had frayed beyond repair.
“Okay.” Jo shuffled up into a sitting position. “On to a much more interesting subject.” She grinned, looking like a mischievous little girl. “Marco: the high school fantasy come to life.”
I laughed. “He’s definitely a fantasy.”
Jo’s eyes lit up. “I’m guessing he knows what to do with that fantastic body of his.”
Feeling more than a little smug I replied, “Oh, yes. Definitely.”
“You should bring him over for Sunday lunch again.”
“Now that we’re actually seeing each other I think it might be a little weird with you guys there… being all nosy.”
Jo rolled her eyes. “We’re not nosy. We’re grown adults. We’ve got better things to do than spy on you.”
“Okay, we probably would. Some of us have been cooped up for months, though. Your lusty romance with Marco is our only form of entertainment.”
“Great,” I muttered.
“So are you seeing him tonight?”
At the reminder that I wouldn’t be seeing him because of his “family thing,” I felt my mood sink. “He disappears every other weekend. He says it’s a family thing and that he’ll explain when the time is right.”
“Withholding information.” Jo raised an eyebrow. “How do you feel about that?”
“What can I do?” I smiled sadly. “He’s not the only one withholding, remember.”
Jo’s expression turned sympathetic and concerned. “Right.”
Thankfully, the sound of the front door opening broke into the suddenly gloomy atmosphere. “It’s me!” Cam called, his footsteps growing louder as he strode toward the sitting room. He smiled at me as he entered the room, carrying a white plastic bag. “Hannah, how are you, sweetheart?”
“I’m good.” I smiled back. “You?”
His eyes flicked to Jo. “Uh, aye, good.”
It took everything in me not to burst out laughing at his hesitation. I was guessing Jo wasn’t the only one who wanted this baby to come out soon.
“Did you get me them?” Jo asked him, her eyes riveted on the plastic bag.
In answer Cam pulled out a packet of pickled onion crisps and a multi-pack of Kit Kat biscuits. Jo frowned at the biscuits. “They’re ordinary two-finger Kit Kats.”
“Aye?” Cam asked in wary confusion.
“I like the king-size Kit Kats.” She pouted at him. I’d never seen Jo pout in my life. “The four-finger Kit Kats. They taste better.”
His answering smile was tight. “Fine. I’ll go back and get them. It’s only an hour’s walk to the supermarket and back.”
“You don’t need to be snippy,” she snapped.
Cam closed his eyes as if he was trying to draw patience from somewhere, anywhere. He opened them, looking at me. “Remind me that I love her.”
Laughing, I did as asked. “Cam, you love Jo. The pre-hormonally challenged Jo. And give or take a month she’ll be back.”
With renewed determination Cameron nodded and stalked out of the flat.
I shot Jo a look of chastisement.
She blinked in confusion. “What?”
“You’re being irrational to Cam.”
“Eh… no. I told him before he left that I wanted the king-size Kit Kats, not the ordinary kind. It’s not my fault he didn’t listen.”
For Cam’s sake, I shuffled over to Jo and placed my hands on her bump. “Cool it in there, Pipsqueak, before your mummy is left alone to see out the rest of this pregnancy with only a king-size Kit Kat for company.”
To my delight and surprise, that Sunday afternoon Marco turned up at my door. He offered no explanation other than there had been a change of plans. It thrilled me that he’d come to see me immediately upon said change of plans, even if it bothered me that I didn’t know what said original plans had been.