Page 1 of How We Loved

September

1st September

I didn’t plan to be writing a diary again this year. Maybe I figured it ended when Ben came home, and we started our forever after.

But what is forever after?

Maybe I don’t know. So here I am again, hiding in the bedroom with my notepad and pen. Okay, so maybe I’m not hiding as such. There’s a large chance that Ben grinned at me, those blue eyes of his twinkling, and said, “Go on, go and get it all out.” Damn, do I love that man. Of course I do. He’s Ben, and he’s all mine. Not Miraaandha, not the public’s... no, he’s mine. So why the burning need to write today? Well, and okay, so maybe I didn’t think it would be as emotional as it was, but today was Meredith’s and Tristan’s wedding. I didn’t expect it to be as beautiful as it was; it was near on damn perfect, and it’s made me this emotional mess that’s now been left questioning everything I thought I wanted. The only blip on the day was my enormous size, but as that was all on me (and Ben), I can’t actually say it was anyone else’s fault.

Let me start at the beginning; prosperity needs to know about it (plus, I’m worried I’ll get serious baby brain and won’t remember).

So there we were in Suffolk; Meredith’s parents invited us to stay with them at the farmhouse - where the reception was going to be. There were two reasons to politely decline. Firstly, Ben and I fully planned to take this weekend in the country as a mini romantic getaway, nudge, nudge, wink wink (more on this in a bit). Secondly, and possibly most importantly, Mum and Dad were staying with them too. Now, things are getting better with the parentals. Mum and I can now be in a room without me wanting to rip her head off or drink gin. But this is a new and very delicate progression, and it seemed best not to put us in close quarters for an event so emotional and stressful as a wedding. Plus, weekend away sexy vibes were guaranteed to be dampened by knowing my parents were in the room next door. It turns out that I needn’t have worried about the event being stressful; it was beautiful. So beautiful that even as I sit here and write, I’m getting stinging eyes and feeling a bit emosh, although I think that might have a lot to do with baby hormones and not really because somehow my best friend and arse of a brother managed to pull off the most beautiful and romantic wedding known in history - and as a student of history, I am well-versed in such things, not.

I met Meredith for breakfast the day before; she was quite obviously contemplating the enormity of her actions in marrying such a total arse as my brother. Her mother was with us as we sat at the farmhouse kitchen table and tucked into croissants and fruits. It was all very cosmopolitan chic, considering we were sitting on about 10 acres of arable farmland. Her dad was out doing whatever farmers do, and here’s the cracker, Tristan was out with him. Yep, in a desperate attempt to still win over his soon-to-be father-in-law and gain forgiveness for marrying his nineteen-year-old daughter (nearly twenty, but it’s funnier when I say nineteen), Tristan was out knee-deep in pig shit. Technically, I don’t actually know if there was pig shit, but I’m sticking with it because it makes me feel all warm and fuzzy on the inside.

Anyway, after a breakfast of continental champions and ten gallons of decaf coffee, which kept me needing a wee all day, Meredith and I locked ourselves away for some girly best friend pampering. Plus, I needed to be locked away because Mum and Dad were still to arrive, and I had to get through a family dinner with them that evening, so best not push things too early in the day. Meredith was quiet as we lay there with face masks on; well, she lay there, I kind of lounged in a semi-upright position. New fun fact for pregnancy: you can’t sleep on, or lie on your back for longer than twenty minutes without doing something desperately awful like cutting off the air supply to your child—seriously, who makes this shit up? Ben has assured me that it doesn’t mean you actually withhold air from your unborn child, but I don’t plan on taking any chances. And as a notorious, lifelong back sleeper, I’d say I’m taking one for the team.

So after about forty minutes of muted conversation, I’d finally had enough, so I struggled to right myself, not that easy, and cracked the lid on what was going on.

“Have you changed your mind?” I asked, patting her leg sympathetically. “No one would blame you; he really is a total arse.”

Meredith gave me a watery smile. “No, of course I haven’t.”

“Well, this silence is making me uneasy.”

“It’s just...” She trailed off.

“Just what?”

“Well, this is it, isn’t it.”

Maybe it’s my terrible baby brain, or perhaps the fact that I’m genuinely a bit dumb, but I couldn’t work out where she was heading with this.”

“Yes, it’s a Friday.”

Her emerald chip gaze met mine. “No, I mean, this is it forever.”

Leaning closer, I patted her leg. “Yeah. That’s kind of what you wanted, all along, from basically the first moment you met him.”

A small smile curved her lips. “I know.”

“So what’s the deal?”

“It feels too easy, like this is a dream, and I’m going to wake up and I’ll never have met him at all.”

Okay, this I got. “I mean, really waking up and realizing you’ve promised yourself to him for an eternity would be more of a nightmare in my opinion.” She swatted me on the arm. “But I get it.” I took a little breath; I’m pretty sure the baby is reducing my air intake far more than I am its. “This is magical, what you and Tristan have is magical. Most people spend their lives looking for what you’ve found already.”

She nodded, eyes shining. “Do not bloody cry, if I start, I’ll never stop.”

“Okay.” She cried, the liar.

“Damn.” I cried too. “I’m so glad I get to have you as a sister.”

“Me too.” Then she cried harder, and so did I. Fair to say we needed to redo the facemasks and add in some cucumber slices for our now puffy eyes.

Once we were done, I left her to have some time with her parents, who are the most wonderful people. That sounds trite and obvious, but they really are. Meredith and I have been friends for two years now, and this was my first time meeting them. If I’d known they were a kind of sit-at-the-kitchen-table chatting, Aga heating the room kind of people, I would have been there much sooner.

I found Ben in the hotel room. The hotel itself was beautiful, a proper country affair with ivy climbing the exterior walls and a roaring fire. Not that they needed the fire on; the weather is on its head, and England is baking in a late heatwave, lovely for everyone else, but not so great for me, who is carrying around another human being in my stomach.