I choke.
I’m coughing and spluttering all over the place. Jesse’s cutlery hits his plate and his hand lands on my back. He starts smacking me. “Fucking hell, woman. Slow down.”
This doesn’t help me in the slightest. I’m gasping for breath, trying to swallow down my half-chewed piece of meat and through the tears that have sprung into my eyes, I can see Sam and Drew staring at me with perplexed looks on their faces, and my delinquent best friend with the biggest smirk spread across her pale features. “I’m okay,” I wheeze, coughing again to clear my throat. “Went down the wrong way.”
“Here.” Jesse takes my knife and fork and replaces them with a glass of water. “Drink.”
“Thank you.” I accept the glass and gulp it all down, striving to avoid Kate’s gaze across the table, but failing miserably. Her mischievous mood is like a magnet to my vulnerable state. This time she’s mimicking a blowjob, her fist casually wanking thin air in front of her mouth. I spit my water across the table, all over Drew and Sam, and I aim well because I catch Kate, too. Sam and Drew fly up from their chairs, but Kate stays exactly where she is, laughing.
“Fucking hell, Ava.” Jesse grabs a napkin. “What the hell is wrong with you?” He starts dabbing at my mouth while I fall apart all over the place, hearing Sam and Drew cursing to themselves and Kate’s continued giggles.
“I’m sorry,” I say, laughing. “I’m so sorry.” I look at Sam and Drew, both patting themselves down with napkins. I refuse to look at Kate.
“Are you okay?” Jesse’s concerned voice drags my attention back to him.
“I’m sorry,” I repeat. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” I do, and the wicked cow is sitting opposite me, silently willing me to look at her. I don’t. I take my cutlery back and turn my eyes down to my plate, and that’s where I’ll be keeping them until I’ve finished my dinner.
“Is this what pregnancy does to women?” Sam asks on a chuckle.
“It’s better than mood swings,” Kate snickers.
“Yeah, let me know when they start,” Drew pipes up. “I can handle being spat at, but I’m not up for a tongue lashing.”
Oh, good Lord! I can feel my shoulders starting to jerk up and down, and I know Kate is grinning at me again, but this time I control it. I keep my head down and work my way through the rest of my dinner.
“I take it you’re done?” Jesse says to my empty plate.
“Hmm.” I fall back in my chair. “That was heaven.”
“We can see.” Drew’s eyebrows are raised as he watches Pete clear the table.
“Say your good-byes, lady. It’s getting late.” Jesse leans over the table and shakes hands with the boys before standing and giving Kate a peck on the cheek.
“Ring me,” I whisper to Kate as I lean in to kiss her, too.
“I will,” she sings.
As we exit the bar, Jesse looks down at me with inquiring eyes. “Gathered yourself together now, Mrs. Ward?”
I meet his stare with a questioning look. “You knew, didn’t you?”
“About what?”
“About Kate, Sam, and Drew.” I let him guide me through the entrance hall, but keep my eyes on him.
There’s no denying the flash of surprise that flies across his face. “Is that what you were laughing about? She told you?”
“Yes,” I confirm, wanting to add that she actually told me a lot more—a lot, lot more. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“And give you something to get your knickers in a twist over?”
“I wouldn’t have,” I announce confidently, as we crunch our way across the gravel. “Shall I take my giant snowball?”
“No, you’re coming with me.” I’m directed into the passenger seat of the DBS, but I don’t complain.
He starts the engine and cruises sensibly down the driveway, and it’s not until I feel his hand rest over mine that I realize mine is laid flat on my stomach. I don’t need visual validation that he’s looking at me, so I continue to watch the trees slowly passing the passenger window as I feel his fingers lace through mine and squeeze gently.
I smile to myself. This is just so right.
Chapter Seventeen
There’s that familiar whirring again as I come awake. I sit up and immediately feel gut wrenchingly sick. Flopping back to my pillow on an enormous groan, I soon appreciate my error when my stomach turns, indicating that I haven’t got time to lay here and determine just how crap I feel. I’m going to be sick.
I dive from the bed, straight into the bathroom, where I just about make it to the toilet before I decorate it with last night’s dinner. “No,” I whine to myself. It doesn’t feel so right now. My body is completely rejecting my contented thoughts. I hug the toilet for an age, my head resting on my arms as I fight off the sweats and moan under my breath. “Rubbish,” I grumble. “Why are you doing this to me?” I look down at my stomach. “You’re going to be challenging like your father, aren’t you?”