She rolls her eyes. “He got boring. He was too clingy and started talking about moving in together, so I had to cut loose.”
I smile, thinking she is the female version of a teenage Callum and I can’t help feeling for the bloke. “He liked you. What’s wrong with that?”
She glowers at me. “You’re not serious?”
I shake my head and smile, knowing I can’t convince her otherwise.
The cappuccinos arrive with a little biscuit. “The scones will be out shortly.”
“Thank you,” Claire says. “So, how’s things with Justin? Last time I saw you, things were fraught.”
I let out a long breath, contemplating how much I should reveal. I want to tell her everything, but I can’t seem to speak the words. Like having someone else know my sins is like making them real, and I’m trying to move on.
“The holiday was good. We were both ready for some rest and relaxation.” I take the biscuit from the wrapper and bite into the crunchy texture, tasting the burnt caramel on my tongue. It’s the simple things in life. Then I wash it down with a sip of my hot drink.
My nose scrunches as I slide the cup away. “That drink’s not right. The milk must be off.”
Claire looks puzzled, pulling her eyebrows together and takes a sip of hers. “Mine tastes fine.” She picks up my drink and has a sip to compare the two. Licking the froth from her lips, she places the cup back on the table. “They’re exactly the same.”
I take the cup and have another try, but the taste makes me want to hurl. “No way. I can’t stomach that. Can’t you taste it?” My head shakes as a shiver takes over my body, and I stick my tongue out as if the air can evaporate the flavour residing there.
Claire laughs at my expression. “You’re not pregnant, are you? Last time you were expecting, you went off coffee.”
I laugh at the ridiculous thought. “Justin had a vasectomy before Easter. Plus, it would be a miracle to get pregnant from the two drunken times we actually diditon holiday.” My nose wrinkles thinking about it. I was trying to rekindle something between us before seeing Cal again, but it was like trying to light damp wood.
She laughs and speaks, but all I hear is a muffled sound. My body stills as panic claws up my chest when I realise I came off the pill at Easter. What was the point in taking it now since Justin had a vasectomy?
The cafe blurs all around me, and time slows down. My head swirls, making me light and dizzy. The blood drains from my face and an icy chill follows, but I’m sweating on my top lip. The sudden urge to expel my breakfast comes over me as my mouth waters, and not in a good way. I can’t have his baby, I’m leaving him, as soon as I get my arse in gear and find somewhere else to live.And pluck up the courage to explain the situation to the kids.
I cover my mouth. My body reacts while my mind tries to unscramble my thoughts, and I’m stumbling towards the bathroom. Bursting into the cubicle, the biscuit and this morning’s cereal come up. I retch into the porcelain bowl again.
No, no, no, please. I can’t be pregnant. Not now. I lift my head and wheeze. Callum. All those times with Callum, I was so used to sleeping with him without a condom. It never crossed my mind to put a cover on it. That I could…he could…I retch again, but there’s nothing left.
Sweat drips from me profusely. I’ve done it now. I wipe my mouth with a tissue. My brain thinking a little clearer. I could just have a stomach bug.Yeah right…a stomach bug that discriminates against coffee. You had no problem eating that biscuit.Breathe, just breathe. I blow out and in again like I’m practising my birthing pants.
I rinse my mouth under the tap and feel better. I pat my mouth dry, making sure I don’t upset the makeup I caked on this morning and reapply more lippy. If I didn’t have a fake face on, my skin would be as lifeless as the corpse bride, confirming that I surely can’t be pregnant? Pregnancy makes you glow.
It took me years of trying to get caught with Cassie and Cairen. Surely one time with Cal won’t do it.It wasn’t one time though, was it?I take several deep breaths in an attempt to pull myself together before I return to my seat. Feeling perfectly fine now, I wonder what came over me. Was it the biscuit that made me ill?Not likely.Oh, shut up.
I slide into the seat across from Claire and my scone has arrived, looking divine with lashings of red jam and clotted cream. It’s warm too, and my tummy grumbles as if it’s saying feed me.
“Are you all right?” Claire asks.
“I am now.”
“Do you want your drink?”
“Gosh, no.” I slide that as far away from me as possible. The memory of it lingers and I can taste it still. I catch the waiter’s attention. “Excuse me, can I order a chocolate milkshake, please?”
He writes it down, and I hand him the cappuccino to take away.
Claire has already devoured half of her scone, and sod it. I’m going in… if I throw this up after, so be it; at least I’ll get to taste it on my tongue.
The homemade strawberry jam is sickly sweet and melted into the warm, crumbly, buttery scone. The clotted cream fills my mouth, the sweetness kissing my tongue.You’re not moaning now, are you?My subconscious pipes up, and funnily enough, I agree with her as a hum escapes my lips.
My milkshake arrives, and it’s filled with ice-cream and chocolate sauce. A deluxe indulgent perfect for my birthday. I should have ordered it from the beginning.
“You never said Justin was getting a vasectomy,” Claire says, wiping her mouth with a napkin.