Five weeks pass in a blur of work, sweet cravings and out of control emotions. One day I'm determined to do this whole single parent thing and then the next, I'm a mess of tears and anxiety. Last Friday Enzo and I got the most amazing news. The tiny baby in my belly is a girl. My mini-me. I burst into tears, feeling like I knew her already from my dreams. So ready to meet her. 12 weeks to go. 84 short days. And then my cherub will be in my arms, where she belongs.
"Are you sure you want to paint the room pink, love?" mum says, glancing over my shoulder at the paint swab book in my hands.
We're in IKEA looking at the paint for the nursery. I'm staying at mum's house until I get on my feet and have enough saved up to rent an apartment somewhere close to work. For the time being, I'm happy where I live, and mum won't stop going on about how excited she is to have the baby and me with her. Let's see if she's still keen when the newborn is screaming at all hours of the day, wanting food and a nappy change.
I nod, loving the dusky pink colour. It's girlie with a touch of class. "I was thinking about painting the walls cream and using the pink as a feature wall behind the crib and nursery furniture."
There's a white angel crib I want to get from a bespoke baby shop in Mayfair. The wood at the end of the crib is carved up into angel wings, the edges high enough to last her until after she's mobile enough to attempt to climb out. It's a small fortune, but it's worth it. I'm currently on the six-week waiting list, and the owner said to expect four weeks for the craftsman to make it. Just in time for baby's arrival. I'm tempted to put my name down for the matching wardrobe and change table, but I'll max out my credit card if I do. Enzo said that he'd buy them, but I want this to come from me.
I don't know where Enzo and I are in our relationship. There's too much rushing around at the minute to sit down and think about it...apart from when I lie awake at night and feel the baby moving. Then all my mind obsesses over is how torn up I am, wishing he was laid next to me, experiencing it all. I send weekly bump dates in the form of pictures, often telling him how big the baby is now, referencing it with fruit. A pear, I'd said to him one week, answering his call when he phoned right away, telling me that he couldn't stop staring at the fruit bowl, wondering which one would be next.
I miss him. Terribly so.
An empty pit is open on my chest, and it doesn't seem to be healing.
"These are too good," Gabe says, appearing at our side with a tray of meatballs covered in gravy. One of the reasons he wanted to come shopping with us. Food. "Do you want some Am?"
I eye the juicy meat, feeling my taste buds salivating. "Go on then. Just one or I'll be battling indigestion for the rest of the day."
Gabe almost misses my mouth, the gravy dripping down my cheek. "Oh, crap. Sorry," he laughs, moping it up with his fingers, licking them after.
"You idiot," I say, chewing on the food.
Gabe goes in to wipe my cheek for a second time when the voice of my husband sends my heart plummeting to the bottom of my stomach. I push Gabe away, flushing when Enzo stands behind us, pushing a trolley full of bed linen, curtains and baby stuff. Of all the days, he has to shop now? I don't know what to say, knowing what it looks like with another man putting his fingers on me.
"What's going on?" Enzo says, voice cracking, eyes filling with what look like tears.
Oh, hell.
"Nothing," my heart beats ten to the dozen. "Nothing is going on. We're just shopping."
Enzo slides his gaze towards Gabe, watching him for what feels like an eternity, before switching to me. "I'm getting stuff for the nursery. I thought I'd go all white and pink accessories. What do you think?"
"Sounds lovely," I smile, wanting to tell him that Gabe is only a friend. One I let be there for me instead of him.
Enzo turns to look beside him, moving to the side when a kid with a mini trolley zooms past. "I wasn't sure about the changing table. There's a cabinet I saw that's quite sweet, but I'm worried it won't be safe enough."
I think I know the one he's talking about, as I'd sourced it out earlier, thinking it could be a substitute to the bespoke changing table. "I'll take a look."
Enzo gives me a shaky smile. "Follow me then."
We walk across the room, weaving between the dawdling customers, leaving mum and Gabe near the paint. When we reach the changing tables, Enzo is asking me all sorts of questions, but all my mind can focus on is how terrible he looks. The edges of his eyes have tired creases, the lids and under eyes giving off a blue tinge against his pasty complexion. I'd be surprised if he slept at all. The curls in his hair collect at the nape of his neck, some falling into his face, brushing the beard covering his jaw and cheeks.
I used to love his facial hair, especially when he'd run his cheek over my hand.
"Are you taking care of yourself?" I blurt, needing to make sure that he is.
"Yes, why?"
I frown, drifting my gaze over his still shrinking body. "It doesn't seem like you are to me. Do you sleep?"
"Barely," he responds, smiling, but it doesn't seem real. "I can't do a thing without you. I'm useless."
I run my fingers along the edges of the wood furniture. "You lived without me before, Enzo. I'm sure you can cope."
I startle when his hand slides over mine, letting him connect our fingers. "You're wrong. I existed without you. My life didn't begin until you walked into it. I miss you more and more every day."
"Don't Enzo...please," I whisper, feeling the connection of our joint skin prickle my bloodstream.
"Do you know I reach out to you in bed every damn night? Call your name in my sleep? Dream about you as soon as my eyes close?"
Remember me mention my hormones? Yeah, well, I'm blaming them for my next mistake. I don't know how my lips end up on Enzo's or why my fingers grip any physical part of him that I can reach. But, they do, and there's no going back now. We pressed together, my bump keeping some space between us. I'm out of control, noises leaving my mouth and a need pulsing around in my body that would bring shame on my family. Enzo is no better as he grips the back of my head, our tongues wrestling, lips swelling up.
"Oh, Christ, I missed you," he says over my mouth, pure agony in his groan.
"Me too," I whisper, not aware what I'm saying. Lust drunk on his taste.
Enzo presses lots of kisses up and down my jaw, the prickling of his beard knocking me out of my stupidity. "Yes, baby. I missed you. I love you. I'm so very sorry. I'll make this right again. I swear it. I love you with everything inside me. You're my angel. My Ambrosia. The woman carrying my child. The woman I could lose because I'm too selfish to see I'm doing wrong."
I catch sight of the people watching us and want to crawl into a hole and live there forever. My nails scratch his skin when I pull away, shoving his hands off me when he fights for me back in his embrace. I let him kiss me. I kissed him back. And now I've ruined everything. Needing to leave, I spin around and manage to escape him, walking blindly around the superstore, finding mum and Gabe where I left them.
Why do I have to feel so safe in his arms?
Like nothing else matters.
We gel together.
And it scares me to think if I let him back into my life - our lives - then he'd ruin it all again.
Leaving me to scrape up the shattered hearts from the floor.
"Ambrosia!"
Enzo's concerned voice echo's over here, the sight of his distraught face causing my eyes to fill with tears. The expression is gut-wrenching. Gabe steps forward, grabbing onto my arm, shielding me with his body. I don't want a fight. I just want to leave, and lock myself away for days. My head is a mixture of feelings. It's hard to tell them apart.
I don't need the stress.
"Go," Gabe says, pushing me into my mum's arms, telling me to go a second time. Knowing I don't want to talk to my husband. "I'll deal with the douche."
"I don't want a fight," I say, leaving with mum, hearing Gabe growl don't you dare when we round the corner, Enzo's eyes pleading with me when I turn back.
"I love you," he mouths, and my body almost gives up.
...
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