Page 12 of How We Loved

“Yeah. What’s your point?”

Later

We came home with eight shades of yellow that Ben found me smearing on the walls. He hesitated at the door to the nursery (I need to start thinking about it as it will be used, and not as the spare room where I can hide my clean washing when I can’t be arsed to put it away), and I think he wanted to try and slip past without me noticing him. Too late, pal.

“Ben!” I hollered, paintbrush pointing at him. Yellow paint dripping onto the cream carpet.

“Yes, my love.”

“Can you paint this wall?”

“Um...”

“Please, Ben.” I widened my eyes and aimed for the dreamy and pregnant expression Mer assures me I have most of the time now.

“Lilah. Paint is not my strong point.”

“Ben. Painting is literally just waving a brush backward and forwards. Please, or the baby won’t have a room.”

Mer, who was painting the skirting board in an eggshell off white, snorted behind me. Traitor.

Ben stared at the eight tubs of paint and then the wall. “Fine. Fine.” He picked up a brush, dipped it in, and I smiled as he began. Ben Chambers, World-Famous Singer/Songwriter was painting the nursery wall.

Life really can be amazing sometimes.

“God, I’m just so happy right now,” I told them as I stood back to admire my handiwork. “Isn’t life just amazing.” I caught them exchanging a glance. Fine, fine, they can have their little joke about me being an out-of-control hormonal monster; I know I’m totally fine. “I don’t think I like yellow, though.”

“Lilah!” Ben groaned and put his paintbrush back down in the paint tray. “This is yellow number six; how can you not like any of them?”

“Six wasn’t yellow enough, and five is too buttercup.”

Mer held up her hands. “Look, Lil. You paint the wall. Ben and I are popping to Asda. I need wine and lots of it.”

I wrinkled my nose. “Why Asda?”

Mer hesitated, and Ben shrugged at her. “Fine, Tesco.”

“Much better.”

They left, Ben kissing me on the forehead as he passed. “What do you fancy for dinner?”

“I’ll have a think and text.” I didn’t, though, because I noticed the wood flooring in the hallway was dusty and had to clean it. Ben found me on my hands and knees an hour later. “Well, if I’d known you were planning a blow job for dinner, I wouldn’t have bothered going to the shops.”

7th October

Mum suggested we go to John Lewis for nursery furniture. I responded with an exasperated, “For God’s sake, Mother, we aren’t middle-aged boring folk.” Ben and I had already decided on Ikea for our nursery needs. We certainly weren’t too good for an Ikea nursery, and we figured flat-pack furniture was the way to go if we wanted it to fit into Deathtrap Cooper. Plus, I wanted meatballs and gravy like my life depended on it and was feeling particularly murderous towards anyone who stood in my way.

I was excited; I mean, let’s be real here, this is the most excitement I’ve had in days... shopping... furniture... meatballs... However, I’d quite the ordeal just trying to get my shoes on my feet. In fact, I almost had to do the entire Ikea shopping trip in my slippers.

I was getting frustrated and let there be no doubt about this (for the record, I don’t like feeling murderous, it isn’t bringing me any joy, I just can’t help it). Fortunately, Ben came to the rescue by retrieving my summer flip-flops from the storage unit out back. I suspected I’d be wearing them until November, given the enormous swelling of my feet, which have transformed into boats now rather than feet.

However, our exit from the flat was thwarted by a delivery lorry blocking in our trusty Deathtrap Cooper.

“What the duck?” Ben exclaimed, (we both really are trying to cut down on our offensive language use, however, “what the duck” coming from someone as outrageously sexy as Ben is a little unnerving) marching over to the driver’s window and knocking on it. I followed him, struggling along with a sheen of sweat coating my brow, flip flops barely on my feet.

Ben stepped back, his handsome face etched with confusion. “Lilah, it’s flowers.”

“Flowers?” I joined him at the lorry, and indeed, inside the cab was a delivery man surrounded by dozens of bouquets.