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“That’s lovely,” said Lucy.

“Isn’t it? It’s nice to be worried over a bit. Makes me feel like I’m doing something special, growing this baby.”

“You are,” said Lucy, putting her arm around her friend and giving her a squeeze.

“So are you,” Carrie pointed out. “Come on, let’s pick up the pace a bit — it’s cold out here.”

They came down from the castle and walked around the other side of the park.

Carrie checked her watch as they began making their way back up the high street. “Perfect timing,” she commented. “Poppy will be finishing her dance class soon.”

“Thanks for joining me,” Lucy said.

“No problem; it was nice, actually. You won’t get me out when it’s raining though.”

“I don’t blame you,” said Lucy, unlocking the door to the coffee shop. “See you soon.”

She had to admit, she did feel better for some fresh air. More awake, if nothing else. Her feet could definitely do with a rest now though.

She went up to her flat and took off her boots, hat, coat, scarf and gloves. She should be especially commended for going out, considering how long it took to undress after she got back.

She should do something to eat but really couldn’t be bothered and her mind was stuck on Dylan and the flat left empty without him. What was she going to do for the rest of the evening? Everything she wanted to do involved Dylan, which was, frankly, ridiculous. What did she used to do in the evenings before Dylan moved in? Work on the business accounts sometimes, usually multitasking by worrying about the coffee shop’s financial situation. If there was one good thing that had come out of Dylan becoming her business partner, it had to be that he was more than happy to automate this more and take over with it, to a certain extent. She certainly didn’t miss dealing with spreadsheets . . . What she was missing was Dylan, and he hadn’t even been away a whole day yet. As if he knew he was being thought about, Dylan messaged her.

Check your freezer. I forgot to say there are meals in there for you.

Lucy went into the kitchen and pulled open the freezer door. The top drawer had some of her ready meals still in there. The second drawer down, though, had several containers full of food, all of them neatly labelled with what they were and heating instructions. She took out a chilli con carne and rice with a smile on her face. He’d left her enough for her to have them for lunch and dinner until he came home. Back. She corrected herself, until he was back. His home was somewhere else. His staying with her was just temporary. Which suddenly seemed really sad.

While her meal was heating up, Lucy set up her laptop and opened Google. There had to be a medical reason for how she was feeling. She gave her stomach a rub to let the baby know she didn’t blame it. It was all crazy hormones.

She’d spent actual years managing to evade Dylan’s charm quite successfully (well, apart from one slip-up — an image of which flashed into her mind), and now look at her. Maybe there was a supplement she could take . . .

Sure enough, she immediately came upon plenty of articles, including some from renowned medical journals, explaining that pregnant women often feel more attracted to the father of their baby. Was there no end to the craziness of pregnancy?

She wandered back into the kitchen to retrieve the chilli con carne from the oven and took it into the sitting room to eat off her lap. She popped on an episode of Bridgerton, but her mind was elsewhere, thinking about her relationship with Dylan and how she could keep up with how fast things were changing between them. How she was starting to rely on him, and how comfortable she was with this . . .

Lucy really was fine by herself. She enjoyed her own company and Carrie and Michael were only two doors down if she needed anything or was lonely. But there was something so lovely about being cared for. She’d never had it in a partner before, possibly because she was naturally quite independent as an only child and a business owner. Maybe she didn’t give out signals to a partner that she needed caring for, she reasoned.

Her phone dinged with another message from Dylan checking up on her: Have you eaten?

She replied with a photo of her food.

Good girl, he sent back, cheekily.

She hated the fact that it made her smile.

* * *

By Friday, Lucy was practically counting down the minutes until Dylan returned. Her eyes kept returning to the large clock on the wall of the coffee shop, and, as much as she tried to focus on work, she was distracted and cross with herself for being this way.

Was it the baby making her feel like this? She glared down at her stomach.

She kept glancing over at the table Dylan usually occupied, forgetting that he wasn’t there.

“You’re quiet today,” commented Ellen. “You doing OK?”

“Yes, yes, I’m fine.”

“Not missing Dylan by any chance?”