A delicious aroma stirs my senses. I crack my eyes open and find that darkness has fallen. I scan the room and see Nicola tucked up on another sofa, watching something on her tablet, the volume turned down low, next to Taylor, who is reading a book. I sit up, rubbing my eyes and then stretching my arms above my head. Noticing the movement, Taylor and Nicola both look across at me with grins on their faces. “How long have I been out?” I croak. “About an hour and a half,” replies Taylor. “You were talking in your sleep,” Nicola tells me with a giggle. I clap my hand to my mouth, mortified. “No! What did I say?” “It sounded like a brownie recipe to me,” Nicola answers. “Trust me to talk cake in my sleep,” I laugh. At least it wasn’t anything too embarrassing, especially in front of Nicola. Or even worse, in front of Taylor. A beep emanates from the oven and Taylor gets to his feet. “Right, ladies, dinner will be ready in ten. Do you guys want to set the table?” “Argh, you are suc
I wake up alone, the bedclothes cold. I gather up my pyjamas from where they were discarded last night and pull them on before wrapping a robe around me. It is after ten and I feel sheepish for having slept in so late. I make my way downstairs and find Taylor and Nicola mooching around, cups of coffee in hand. “Morning, sleepyhead,” Taylor calls across from the kitchen. “Coffee?” “Please…” I mumble, in serious need of some caffeine. Yeah, yeah. I know you are supposed to go all decaf and shit when you are pregnant, but I am like a bear with a sore head if I don’t get my morning fix. I tried, really tried, but I lasted only about a week before I caved, so now I just try to limit myself to one a day. I hop onto one of the barstools and gratefully take the latte that Taylor offers me. I sip slowly, gradually waking up and feeling ready for the day ahead. Nicola suddenly squeals, and we both look over at her as she excitedly taps on her phone. “What’s up, Stix?” Taylor asks. Seeing u
I lay my head down on my pillow, exhaustion making my limbs heavy. It is only eight o’clock, but after the week I have had, I feel shattered. I am alone, as I have been most of the week. Taylor has been preparing for his trip to South America, and so he has been leaving most mornings before I have woken up, and arriving after I have fallen into bed. I suggested that he stay in London, but he insisted that he wanted to sleep beside me each night. Our argument, still unresolved, has been the pink elephant in the room that we are both studiously ignoring while pretending everything is fine. Taylor, however, did make it to my first midwife appointment. Taylor had arranged for a sonogram, even though you don’t usually have one until twelve weeks. But I guess that is the advantage of having a boyfriend that insists on private health care. As we lay there listening to the heartbeat of our baby, staring at the strange little blob on the screen, the tears rolled down my face. When I glanced a
I stand in the middle of the café and slowly take in my surroundings. I am simply amazed at the progress that the builders have made in only a week. The large display window has now been opened up, filling the room with muted natural light, brand-new spotlights highlight the recessed corners, the oak floorboards have been sanded down and resealed, and the walls have been repainted, each in a different shade of grey. The builders spent the day yesterday knocking through to the bakery and have put a temporary partition in place until we are ready to open officially. “What do you think, sweetheart?” Mum’s voice startles me, and I whip my head around as she walks in from the back. “Seriously, Mum, this is amazing!” I exclaim crossing the room to envelop her in a big hug, squeezing her tight. “Are you sure? I mean, I know we talked about it, and you liked the samples…” Mum trails off. “Absolutely! This is even better than I could have imagined, Mum. You guys have done an amazing job.
As much as I resented my parents for forcing me into a general business degree, I can’t help but be grateful for everything that I learnt during my course. I still feel out of my depth, but as least the terror has subsided to mild fear. Once upon a time, the idea of dealing with Council bureaucrats would have brought me out in hives, but all I feel now is pride that I have managed to push through all my paperwork with minimal fuss, and now all I am waiting for is the final inspections once the works have been completed. Which, with my amazing powers of persuasion, and maybe the promise of some cakes to try, I have managed to schedule for Friday afternoon. Awesome. My next call is to a local artists group with who I have been chatting about exhibiting some of their work. They were keen enough when we started talking, but now that I actually have an opening date, I need to pin down something to put on our newly painted walls. Otherwise, the café will just end up looking a little grey a
The first thing I notice as I stir is that I am not alone. The dawn hasn’t even begun to rise, so I know it is a little while before I have to get up. As Taylor snores gently beside me, I watch him, drinking in the sight of him so still. His dark brown hair flops over his closed eyes, and I have to stop myself from reaching over and moving the stray lock away. Despite the cold, the duvet has slipped down, revealing Taylor’s broad sculptured chest and his strong arms. I find myself drifting back into the memory of last night, of being pinned by Taylor’s body to the bed, the fast and furious fucking and lastly the haunted look in Taylor’s eyes as he claimed me for his own. An unsettled feeling in my stomach that is nothing to do with the baby suddenly has me up and running for the toilet, where I spend the next five minutes dry-heaving, my body prickly with sweat as if I have been suddenly struck down by a fever. I am struck down with a premonition that something is wrong, very wrong
“Today I am yours, Abs. We have barely spent any time together, and I have missed you. So whatever you want to do is good with me.” Taylor’s voice has turned low and positively sexy, and now my body is no longer trembling with fear but anticipation instead. “Hmmm, what am I going to do without you?” I murmur. “Hmmm, indeed. Well, I have a couple of ideas,” Taylor responds. “Oh you do, do you?” I counter, enjoying this game. “I think I might have to show you, though,” Taylor suggests, his voice husky with his own arousal. Gently Taylor takes my hand and starts to manoeuvre it so that my fingertips brush across my body. Goosebumps stipple my flesh in response as he guides my hand lower and lower. When at last my fingers brush my downy bush, I resist for the first time. I have an inkling of what Taylor wants me to do, but I have actually never done this before, and fear of the unknown has me flush with embarrassment and avoiding Taylor’s eyes. “Don’t be nervous…” Taylor pleads gent
Taylor and I are standing on the pebbles that make up Brighton’s ‘beach’, watching the waves crash on the shore as the weak, wintery sun does its best to warm our freezing limbs. When it is clear that the warmth radiating off Taylor is not enough to stop me from shaking with cold, we agree that it is time to head back into town. I love visiting the beach, and after this morning’s revelations, it has helped blow away some of the insane thoughts racing through my brain. We take a slow meander through the Lanes, stopping in front of quirky shops to gaze at their wares. Taylor lets me drag him into the Cath Kidston store and indulges me whilst I ooh and ah over their baking goodies. Eventually, he buys me an apron in the traditional Provence rose print just to shut me up and get me out of the store. I grin and tell him he is insane; after the coffee machine and the iPad, he doesn’t need to be buying me things. But he just grins at me and tells me he would give me the moon if he could. I