Page 15 of The Wedding Forecast

‘I don’t want you to turn forty and realise you made a mistake.’

‘Being with you is never going to be a mistake.’

‘It might be though.’

We talked on and on, and round and round. One night, I’d gone to bed thinking we were still trying to find a way to stay together and he’d assumed we were breaking up, because we’d discussed it for so long, we’d lost count of who said what and what we’d agreed on. It didn’t feel like there were enough reasons to let go. We loved each other, we kept coming back to that. We had built this life, together, this great life. If Hayley and Luke were happy, we should be too.

It didn’t matter in the end because now that the idea was out there, the breakup had become inevitable. It barrelled towards us and then it happened. And through it all, I held on tightly to the idea that I was doing what was right, for me, for my heart, for my future, because I wanted kids and Joel didn’t.

5

JOEL IS HAVING a baby.

He is having a baby with Bianca.

He is having a baby with Bianca, his girlfriend of four months. Less than four months maybe. I need to get Hayley to confirm the exact date they met. This feels very important right now. Also the due date. Joel could never parent a chaotic Scorpio child. What is he thinking?

No. Calm down.

Process it one word at a time. Baby. Joel. Baby. Joel.

Joel is going to be a father. He is happy, in love, and looking forward to fatherhood. These are facts. I need to acknowledge these facts and move on.

I can feel Luke watching me in the rear-view mirror like a worried parent. I’m sitting in the backseat, and Mac is in the front next to Luke. They’re chatting and I am dissociating.

Luke went through all this with me after the breakup. He’s a saint, but I’m sure he doesn’t have the patience for more breakup drama on his wedding weekend. I promised them I would be fine, no matter what.

Deep breath. Pull yourself together.

I give myself until we arrive at the supermarket car park to stop my racing heart, my prickling skin, my shaking hands, my unhinged thoughts. There are five stages to the grief of finding out your ex is having a baby with a new girlfriend. I instinctively know them immediately. Shock, anger, hysterical laughter, anger again, and then pure rage. I am confident I can get through them all in the next ten minutes. Then something else occurs to me.

Joel’s name! In my book! I need to email my publisher and tell them to pulp all the copies and reprint it right now without his traitorous name.

No. I need to write a new book. About him. I’ll name the character Joel, so there’s no doubt in anyone’s mind. He’ll be the most vile character anyone has ever encountered and then he’ll die the most shocking, grisly death ever seen in fiction. So much blood. So much pain.

I can feel hysterical laughter rising.

Good, I’m at stage three already.

I start making notes for this new book in my phone. I write ‘very violent’ and ‘humiliation’ and ‘look up that case when a woman chopped off penis and boiled it—something there??’

‘Anna?’ Mac has turned around and is watching me. I am scared of what my face might have looked like over the last few minutes.

‘Yes?’ I try to sound normal.

‘Hamburger okay for lunch?’

‘Oh yes, great.’ I can’t stomach even the thought of eating anything right now, let alone a meat patty.

Luke parks the car and turns to me. ‘Come on. We’ll buy truckloads of alcohol.’

As appealing as that idea is, I know I cannot take that path. For a start, the photos. I am not going to be a hungover, puffy-eyed train wreck. I will not be haunted forever by my hungover face. Secondly, I already feel like a woman on the edge. If I get drunk now, I know what will happen. At a minimum, I’ll cry in public. Likely to escalate to a scene, yelling at Joel or, worse, sobbing in Bianca’s lap, rubbing her still-flat stomach and giving her baby names suggestions. My baby name ideas. (I have imagined having a wild, adventurous girl called Stevie.) This is what Joel wants, probably. He wants me to be so revolting, such a mess, no one feels any sympathy for me at all anymore and he can walk away unscathed, the soon-to-be-father, the prize pig. Oh, no. Not a drop of alcohol will be passing my lips tonight. You fucking wish, Joel. It takes me a second to snap out of my imaginary argument with him, and get out of the car and follow Luke and Mac inside.

The supermarket is filled with babies and small children. Where did all these families come from? Even the food on the shelves is mocking me. Baby food. Frozen chicken nuggets for kids. Formula. Chocolate that a pregnant woman might crave.

After the almost manically high energy I was feeling in the car, I am crashing now. Deflating like a balloon. Because I thought I was over him. I thought I had all the armour I needed, that there was no bomb he could lob that would disarm me, I was totally ready for this weekend. But not only can Joel still hurt me, intentionally or not, he can hurt me so badly, so sharp and fresh, it’s a brand new pain.

Luke sends me off to get crackers and dips. He must tell Mac to follow and make sure I’m okay, because suddenly Mac is at my side.