Page 33 of One Day at a Time

When she’d managed to sit up on her own, she’d tried to find the words. ‘It’s just, well, the last time I was pregnant…’

Thankfully, Chanel had known exactly what she meant and she hadn’t needed to recap the very worst time of her life, before her pal had empathised, with, ‘I know, honey.’

‘And then now…’

‘Yep. It’s unbelievable timing.’

‘And… and… it’s just…’ Their lifelong friendship shorthand had been in full flow.

‘I know, babe. It’s just all that. It’s going to take a minute to get used to the idea.’

‘I don’t know what to do, Chanel.’

A deep sigh. ‘Do you think you’ll…?’

Again, their psychic shorthand had relayed the message in full and Sheena’s hand had gone straight to her stomach. ‘Yes. I’m keeping her. Or him. That’s the only thing I know for sure right now.’

‘And the dad is…?’

Sheena hadn’t been sure why that was even up for debate.

‘A male escort I picked up the night I left Gregor.’ She had no idea where that came from, but it had been worth it to see the momentary incredulity on Chanel’s face, before her friend had realised that, somewhere in the midst of all this, Sheena had regained a small tad of her sense of humour.

‘You’re kidding.’ It had been a statement, not a question.

‘I am. It’s Gregor. It can only be Gregor.’

‘Well, hon,’ Chanel had said, tears glistening in her eyes, ‘for what it’s worth, I’m thrilled for you. And you know we’ve got you. We’ll figure it all out. And by that, I mean Martha will figure it all out and I’ll just make sure you always look fabulous. Let’s get you home, send an SOS to Martha, and convene for a board meeting of Forty-Two Long and Pregnant.’

That had set Sheena off on the weird laughing/crying combo again. It had been the most insane day of her life, and she’d always thought that when she looked back on her time on this earth, that award would be won by the day she’d talked a streaker down from her office roof.

‘Need to say, though, honey,’ Chanel had mused as she’d grabbed her jacket and linked her arm through Sheena’s as they made for the door. ‘So much for you being alone for the first time in your life. You managed a whole two weeks of solo living.’

Now, four weeks later, the tears had stopped, but the shock and awe and laughter and a million other emotions were still showing up on a daily basis. There was fear too and some moments of terror about what was in front of her. However, it came with absolute gratitude that she was going to get the chance to find out.

An alarm buzzed on her phone and she picked it up and checked the screen. It was a calendar reminder: GREGOR 10a.m.

As if she needed to be prompted. Telling Gregor was one of the first things she’d thought about every morning for the last month, and the last thing at night too. There had been an urge to race round to the flat on the night she’d found out, but thankfully she’d been cocooned in hours of love, support and gobsmacked exclamations from Chanel and Martha, so she’d postponed that idea. The next morning, she’d decided to give herself a couple of days to get used to the idea on her own. Then another couple of days. Then a week. And somehow that had stretched into a month, until it had got to the point a couple of days ago when she’d realised that if she happened to bump into him in the dairy aisle at Waitrose, she was showing enough that he’d get the shock of his life.

There had been a few short, curt texts back and forward over the last month, mainly logistical things about the house, but nothing personal until yesterday, when, with trembling thumbs, she’d typed…

Hey, do you have time for a coffee tomorrow morning? Couple of things I’d like to chat about. X

Then she’d gone back and deleted the X in case he read too much into it.

His response had come in an hour or so later.

Sure. Where and when?

She’d replied with her suggestion, a time and a place, and now she had to get a move on. ‘Come on little one. Time to go meet your daddy,’ she murmured, as she pushed herself out of bed.

An hour later, she was sitting in their usual brunch spot, her top, her jacket and her seat strategically chosen so that hopefully she’d manage to get the words out before he noticed that his estranged wife had gained an extra few inches around the middle. If Courteney Cox could disguise her pregnancy for the whole of the last series ofFriends, then surely she could do it for the first five minutes of a conversation. Although, he may well notice that the colour had drained from her face and her hands were shaking.

Okay, this kind of tension wasn’t good for the baby.Breathe. Just breathe. Calm down. Regulate. Inhale. Exhale. Count to?—

‘Hello.’ She’d been so distracted she hadn’t even noticed him coming in, but now he was here and they were doing a weird, awkward hesitation of a greeting. She couldn’t stand up, because, well, she’d heard that extreme shock could kill a man, and he clearly didn’t know whether to give her a kiss, a hug, or shake her hand. In the end, he just slid into the seat across from her and managed a half-hearted smile. ‘I was surprised you wanted to meet.’

She hadn’t been sure what to expect, but at least the brittle anger of the last few conversations before she’d left seemed to have dissipated. In fact, he appeared to be… she searched for the words. Lighter. Open. Relaxed. Holy shit, he was happy. He had a new trendy haircut that clearly didn’t come from the ten-quid barber he normally used. Also he wasn’t in sportwear. Or Lycra. That suede jacket looked both new and expensive.