He rolls his eyes, unhappy about being backed into a corner.
It’s true, though. I still feel unsettled by that whole episode with Alex. It might’ve helped me to see him again while he was here, but I didn’t out of respect for Lachie.
‘I saw the way you sang that Catfish and the Bottlemen song to her,’ I state.
‘What?’ He recoils.
‘You looked at her when you sang that bit in “Cocoon” about her out-drinking you and her friends all hating it.’
I’m startled to see that he looks guilty. ‘What was that about?’
‘It’s nothing,’ he says.
‘It’s not nothing,’ I bat back.
He can see I’m not giving in, but he looks sickeningly shifty as he speaks.
‘What I mean to say is you have nothing to worry about,’ he insists, his voice sounding forcibly calmer as he edgily meets my eyes. I wait for an explanation and eventually one comes.
‘Last week, when you were out with work, I went for a beer with El and we bumped into Fliss and some of her friends. She invited us to join them, but I got the feeling that a couple of her mates wanted a girls’ night, so, when Fliss ordered a bunch of shots for us to do, they refused to join in. It all got a bit silly.’
I feel ill. ‘What do you mean, “silly”?’
‘We just got a bit drunk and her friends ended up leaving and Fliss felt really bad about it the next day.’
‘She can’t have felt too bad, seeing the smirking look on both of your faces when you were singing about it.’
‘Oh, for God’s sake,’ he snaps, but he knows I’ve caught him out.
‘Bloody hell, Lachie,’ I mutter. ‘That girl is into you. Are you really completely blind or do you just not want to see it because you fancy her, too?’
‘I do not!’ He raises his voice.
‘Bullshit!’ I raise mine in return. ‘I don’t want you hanging out with her!’
‘Ihaveto hang out with her. I work with her!’ he yells.
‘Then get some fucking jobs off your own back instead of relying on her so much!’
He looks absolutely furious for a moment and then shakes his head rapidly. He’s completely pissed off, but to my relief he doesn’t storm out of the room.
A lump forms in my throat. ‘Lucy’s pregnant again,’ I tell him.
He glances at me. ‘Is she?’
My eyes well up and his expression softens.
‘B,’ he says quietly, sitting down on the bed and reaching for my hand.
‘I want a baby, too,’ I say past the lump in my throat. I’ve hardly acknowledged to myself how broody I am, but I can no longer deny it.
His hand goes limp in mine and he looks away. ‘I’m not ready.’
‘I don’t want to wait much longer. I’m going to be thirty-five next month,’ I say imploringly.
‘I’m not ready,’ he states again, shaking his head and letting go of my hand.
‘No one thinks they’re ready and then they have a baby and it’s the best thing that ever happened to them.’
