“Em, you look like a million dollars!” Lottie beams as she walks over to me, and I wonder when or even if she will get a waddle. She’s eight months pregnant, for God’s sake. It’s only getting bigger from here.
“That’s coming from the pregnant girl who looks like she’s walked right off the newest punk-rock catwalk. I mean, how do you look so good, Lo? They were not fucking around when talking about a pregnancy glow.”
She rolls her eyes, dragging a strand of hair behind her ear. “I may look good, but I feel like a fucking whale. I didn’t know backs could ache this much.”
I stare at her black Rockstud Valentino tote her parents sent her last year for missing her birthday. It’s not something she would ever spend the money on herself, but who in their right mind would say no to that, especially when the bag is so Lottie?
“Why doesn’t handsome over here hold your bag?” I’m clearly joking but Owen frowns at Lottie, to which she simply rolls her eyes. She’s getting too good at that.
“What did I miss?” I laugh.
“Handsome over here has already asked like ten times. I’m pregnant, not old. Now, let’s get moving. I’ll be pissed if we’re late and miss Evie’s sausage rolls.”
Owen’s brow creases and I look at him with the same confusion. “Um, Lottie,” he says with caution, as if perhaps she could detonate, “Evie doesn’t make sausage rolls on Sunday nights.”
I nod in agreement, worried about why he is so worried.
“Jesus, the look on both of your faces. I’m not gonna go off my rocker or cry.” She scrunches up her face, looking at us as though we’re mad. “I spoke to Evie earlier, told her my cravings, and she said she would make some for me.”
Owen lets out a laugh. “Of course she did.”
I can’t help but giggle at the two of them acting like a bickering married couple. I glance at my mobile, and we are indeed going to be late, so we get a move on, all of us walking toward Lottie’s parents’ car. Oh God, she’s pulled it out of storage again.
She hands Owen the keys and my eyes near burst out of my head. No one drives this car but Lottie, and even then there is fear for our lives if it gets wrecked.
She opens the passenger door, muttering, “One bad mood swing and everyone handles me with kiddie gloves.”
I look at Owen as her door slams, my eyebrows drawn.
Shaking his head, he says, “Don’t even ask.” He laughs before getting into the car, leaving me wondering what the heck is going on.
“I just want to say a few words.” Evie’s melodic voice interrupts everyone’s chatter, our gazes all zeroing in on her at the head of the table. Stana sits on her right, with Ali next to her and me next to him. Across from me is Reeve, while Owen and Lottie are beside him, with Steve taking the other head. Despite my best efforts to act natural, my face burns with the feeling of Reeve’s gaze, which I’ve caught staring at me all night.
“Now, I know this Sunday night dinner is a long-running tradition, but it’s been over a year now.” She shakes her head. “I can hardly believe it. A whole year since our family was all together. I just wish Hugo could be here. But to make it even better, we have two”—she grabs hold of Stana’s and Lottie’s hands—“amazing new additions.”
“Nearly three,” Owen calls out, to which Evie only beams more.
“Yes!” she exclaims. “Of course I haven’t forgotten about the little one on the way! Soon we’re going to need a bigger table.” We all laugh, ease and comfort slipping back into my soul.
“Anyway, I just wanted to say I’m so proud to be in all of your lives. Each of you individually enriches my own life in a unique, special way, and it’s clear we would not be a well-oiled running machine without each and every one of you. I love you all so dearly.” Blinking a few times, she returns to her seat. Steve comes around the table to fill up her champagne glass, but I know it’s so he can give her a small kiss on the head.
I can’t help but smile at the fact Evie found someone to love her as deeply as she loves others. I’ve been lucky enough to feel the love of some incredible people in this lifetime, none more powerful than that of my own mother, but Evie’s comes a close second. I know I could go to her with anything and it would be kept in the strictest of confidences.
“To family,” Ali toasts, to which everyone replies with full glasses, all thanks to Steve. We all begin eating, the food second to none. As I dig into my roast chicken, I can’t help but think back to all those times with Reeve when he made me dinner, his cooking above impressive.
As if thinking the same thing, Reeve lifts his head up, our eyes connecting along with our souls. My chest stops falling and rising, my fork raised in midair, and the world is suspended. It’s just the two of us in that moment.
Owen’s arm reaching across me for the peas pulls me out of the trance, Reeve even looking slightly taken aback. It’s completely natural when I smile at him, my insides warming when I’m graced with one of his back. Despite all I know, all the shit that has happened, it’s in these small moments my resolve weakens. So, no matter how much I want to keep staring at him, I look away, but not before catching Ali’s knowing gaze. He merely smirks at me before turning back to listen to what Stana is saying.
Little things like that have been happening all night. Everyone, and I mean everyone, is acting as if nothing ever transpired with Reeve, yet I see them looking at me, or him, every now and then. It’s odd, but I guess when everyone said they would move on and act normal, they must really have meant it. It’s what I asked for, so why does it bother me so much?
I partake in conversation with the girls for the rest of dinner, making sure not to look across the table again, for fear the desire in my heart will betray me and I will jump across the table to maul Reeve. Who knows, maybe that would really shock the hell out of everyone.
Shaking my head, I dismiss my crazy antics, deciding it’s best I accept and get used to this environment I’m surrounded by, no matter how wrong it all feels when my heart is telling me I should be sitting by the man on the other side of the table.
I’m exiting Evie’s front gate when my name is called. Turning, I spot Reeve bounding down the stairs, coming my way. I pause, my mind battling over whether I should stay and talk or make up an excuse for why I need to be home soon. Of course, the latter would be easier, but I promised myself I would try to be friends with him, no matter how hard.
I stay silent, now on the other side of the gate as he appears before me, his coat in his hand as though he grabbed it in a rush.
“You’re going home?” he asks, despite knowing the answer.
I nod. “I’ve got a huge deadline. I honestly wish I could stay for pudding, but I need to get home.” I wrap my arms around myself, bobbing back and forth on my heels.
“You didn’t say goodbye.” The statement is quick, vulnerable, and very unlike Reeve. I try not to let the guilt gnaw at me.
“It wasn’t personal, I just didn’t want to make a fuss.” It’s partly true. I told Evie and Ali I was leaving while everyone else fussed over the game of Cluedo in the living room.