The next coupleof weeks fly by and Luke and I end up hardly seeing each other. I’ve got back-to-back events at work and Luke’s been short-staffed at Salt, so any time we do get together is spent devouring each other’s bodies like we’re starving.
We continue to tick things off the list, including a delightful evening where we ruined some of Salt’s sheets with melted chocolate and whipped cream, but we’re both avoiding the proper conversation that we know we need to have.
Priya’s baby shower rolls around in a heartbeat and before I know it, I’m at Nick and Priya’s front door, ringing the bell. I’m holding a carrier bag full of chocolate bars in one hand and a tray of themed cupcakes that say “push it real good” in lurid pink icing in the other. My heartbeat is a staccato rhythm and I do some deep breaths on the front step to calm my nerves.
Chloe opens the door with a mimosa in one hand and a look of barely concealed glee.
“Thank god you’re here,” she cries, throwing an arm around my neck and dragging me inside. She uses the cover of our hug to whisper in my ear. “If I have to listen to one more ancient relative guess the baby’s weight, length, and head circumference then I’m going to start a killing spree.”
I follow her into the living room which is full of women in every conceivable shade of pink. Priya’s sister Anjali is holding court by the cake, and Priya herself is on the sofa, positively glowing.
The table overflows with gifts in pastel paper and there’s baby-shaped bunting all over the house. I lay down the cupcakes at the dessert station then give Priya a wave. I can’t see Nick anywhere so I duck into the kitchen carrying the chocolate bars.
Nick’s pouring bubbly and for a second, I think he’s alone, until Luke appears from the pantry with a corkscrew in one hand and a bottle of malbec in the other. He gives me the tiniest of smirks before his poker face falls into place.
“Hey kiddo!” My brother’s face lights up as I step into the kitchen and hold up the bag of chocolate.
“I come bearing chocolate! However, once you learn what it’s for, you may wish I hadn’t.”
Nick grins and takes the bag from me, swooping in for a hug.
“I’ve barely heard from you in weeks,” he complains, holding me at arm’s length and looking over me. “I can scarcely remember what you look like!”
I can feel a blush rise on my cheeks and I keep my eyes firmly away from Luke’s, even though I can feel them boring into me.
“Hi Emmy,” he says, leaning around to kiss me on the cheek. The contact is electric – the scratch of his stubble, the softness of his lips, the tiny, almost imperceptible wetness his chaste kiss leaves on my cheek – it’s all making me hungry for more.
“Hi Luke,” I breathe, trying to keep the tension out of my voice. “Are you boys in charge of drinks?”
“Indeed, we are. Luke brought a case of champagne, the bastard. He was only down for Prosecco but I think Anjali might be in love with him now.”
If Anjali weren’t married with four kids in tow, I’d have felt a pang of jealousy but the ease of my laugh is genuine.
“How generous,” I say, smiling at him. The corners of his mouth lift slightly. “How’s the shower going so far? Sorry I missed the first 15 mins; I got stuck on the tube.”
Liar. I was pacing up and down three streets away while I panicked about being in the same room as both Luke and Nick.
Before he can answer, Chloe and Josh sweep into the kitchen. Josh’s party hat is jaunty and he’s wearing a jumper that says “Daddy Cool”. They’re definitely on the tipsier side of things, a common side effect of them palming the kids off on Chloe’s mum for the day.
“We need more chairs,” he announces.
“No, we need fewer guests,” Chloe counters.
“Don’t be a spoilsport, Chlo, you get to day-drink your way through this circus,” I say, elbowing her in the ribs.
Luke seamlessly hands us both a glass of champagne and gives me a very obvious smirk.
Chloe’s about to say something but I interrupt. I can’t have her making any sort of double entendre right now and three-drink-Chloe is nothing if not a liability.
“Come on you, let’s go see if Priya needs anything,” I say, towing her by the arm back into the party. “And you boys can’t hide in the kitchen forever!”
An hour later, we’ve survived four party games and Anjali is showing no signs of slowing down. She disappears into the kitchen, returning with 30 teaspoons, each covered in a blob of puree in various shades of beige and brown.
“And now, guess the baby food!” she announces with glee, as everyone groans. Two of Priya’s aunties are now asleep on thesofa and the rest of us are hanging by a thread. I’ve had too much champagne for this.
The game is organised into rounds, with everyone made to guess the flavour of their puree. Anyone who guesses incorrectly is eliminated. By round 6, only Luke and Josh are left in the running.
Nick went green after learning that his latest spoonful was lamb roast and pears and excused himself pretty sharpish. I deliberately knocked myself out after round one – turns out pureed banana is actually quite tasty. Would probably be nice stirred into Greek yoghurt.
