‘Now, let’s all just calm down a little, shall we?’ My dad says, all calm and softly, ever the mediator. Not only does he avoid affection, he’s not all that keen on confrontation, either. I notice he gives my mother a sideway glace in warning, something rare from my father and only delivered to his wife when he thinks it’s absolutely necessary. It is definitely necessary right now because if mum doesn’t rein it in, Jesse will trample all over her, and it won’t be delicately either. He has been unusually tolerant so far, but then again, mum has been pretty tolerant of my challenging man, too.

‘Ava,’ Dad smiles at me across the table, keeping his hand on his wife’s arm, a subtle message to shut the hell up. ‘How do you feel about this?’

‘Fine,’ I answer quickly, feeling Jesse squeeze my hand. I need to find a replacement for fine. ‘Perfect. Couldn’t be happier.’ I return my dad’s smile.

‘Well, then. They’re married, financially stable,’ He laughs. It’s quite funny to say that Jesse is financially stable. ‘And they’re bloody adults, Elizabeth. Get a grip. You’re going to be a granny.’

I’m feeling pretty mortified. After what has just transpired, you would think we were a pair of teenagers. I smile apologetically at Jesse, who shakes his head in complete exasperation.

‘I will not be a granny!’ Mum chokes. ‘I’m forty seven years old.’ She fluffs her hair. ‘I could be a Nana, though.’ She muses thoughtfully.

‘You can be whatever you like, Elizabeth.’ Jesse picks the menu back up, clearly fighting to leave it there. I can tell he’s dying to trample further.

‘And you should watch your language, Jesse Ward!’ She reaches over the table and flicks the top of his menu, but he doesn’t apologise. ‘Wait!’ she shrieks.

‘For what?’ Dad asks.

Mum’s eyes are passing between me and Jesse, back and forth, again and again before finally resting on Jesse, who has raised brows, waiting for her to advise us on what we’re waiting for. ‘You said babies, plural. You said our babies.’

‘Twins.’ Jesse smiles brightly, all irritation and trampling signs disappearing in a split second. He rubs my tummy lightly. ‘Two babies. Two grandchildren.’

‘Well, I’ll be damned.’ Dad laughs. ‘Now that really is very special. Congratulations!’ His chest swells a little in pride, making me smile fondly.

‘Twins?’ Mum jumps in. ‘Oh, Ava, darling! You are going to be exhausted. What are…’

‘No, she won’t.’ Jesse cuts her off completely before she can dig herself any further into his trampling pit. ‘She’s got me. End of.’

Mum sits back vigilantly and shuts her trap, and I melt on a little sigh. Yes, I have him.

‘And you have us, darling.’ Mum says quietly. ‘I’m so sorry. It’s just a bit of a shock.’ She leans over and puts her hand out. I take it. ‘You’ll always have us.’

I smile, but realise instantly that I won’t actually have them. They live miles away from London, and with Jesse’s family well out of the picture, there will be no calling the grandparents to pop over and relieve me for an hour. There will be no popping in to see my mum for a cup of tea and a chat so she can see her grandchildren. I feel Jesse’s hand tighten around mine, dragging me from my unexpected, unwelcome thoughts. I look at him, and he gazes straight into my eyes.

‘You have me.’ he affirms, as if he’s read my mind. He probably has.

I nod, trying to convince myself that he is all I need, but with two babies to take care of and Jesse at The Manor, I can see loneliness looming—a place where adult interaction is limited because, let’s face it, getting out and about with two babies is going to be tough and relying on visits from friends will be what I’m resorted to.

‘Have you decided?’

I look up, finding a waitress armed with a pad and pen, ready to take our order. She’s smiling brightly, and she’s smiling brightly at Jesse. ‘I’ll have the steak, please.’ I say, my hand slipping onto his knee instinctively, indicating the beginning of my own little trampling session. She makes no attempt to write anything down and doesn’t ask how I’d like it cooked. She just hovers, all starry eyed and dreamy as her greedy eyes run continuous trails up and down my God’s seated frame. ‘I’ll have the steak.’ I repeat, minus the please. ‘Medium.’

‘Pardon?’ She rips her eyes away from Jesse, who is hiding a small smirk as he pretends to read the menu.

‘The steak. Medium. Would you like me to write it down for you?’ I ask tightly. I hear Jesse chuckle.

‘Oh, of course.’ Her pen hand kicks into action. ‘And for you?’ she asks, looking at my parents.

‘Mussels for me.’ Dad grunts.

‘And the seafood platter for me.’ Mum sings. ‘And I’ll have another wine.’ She raises her glass.

The waitress scribbles it all down before turning back towards Jesse. She’s smiling again. ‘And for you, sir?’

‘What would you recommend?’ He blows her back a few metres with his smile, reserved only for women.

I roll my eyes as I watch her pull at her ponytail and blush profusely. ‘The lamb is good.’

‘He’ll have the same as me.’ I collect up the menus and shove them at her, smiling sweetly. ‘Medium.’

‘Oh?’ She looks at Jesse for confirmation.

‘The wife has spoken.’ He leans in and drapes his arm over my shoulder, but keeps his eyes on the waitress. ‘I do as I’m told, so it looks like I’m having the steak.’

I scoff, mum and dad laugh, and the waitress swoons all over her pad, almost certainly wishing that she had a God who did what he’s told. What a joke. She backs away, slipping her pen and pad into the front pocket of her apron.

‘You’re impossible.’ I say quietly, as my parents chuckle and look across the table fondly at Jesse making a meal of eating my neck. ‘And since when do you do what you’re told?’

‘Ava, that was really quite rude.’ Mum chastises me. ‘Jesse can make his own meal choices.’

‘It’s okay, Elizabeth.’ He sucks on my neck a bit more. ‘She knows what I like.’

‘You like to be impossible.’ I quip, rubbing the side of face into his stubble.

‘I love watching you in trampling action.’ he whispers in my ear. ‘I could bend you over this table and fuck you really hard.’

I don’t gasp or recoil at his crass words, spoken with no concern for the company we’re sharing. They were definitely for my ears only. I turn into him, pushing my mouth to his ear. ‘Stop saying the word fuck, unless you’re going to fuck me.’

‘Watch your mouth.’

‘No.’

He laughs and bites my neck. ‘Cheeky.’

‘Let’s raise a toast!’ Dad’s cheerful tone pulls us out of our private moment. ‘To twins!’

‘To twins!’ Mum chants, and we all clink our glasses in acknowledgment to the fact that I’m going to get really fat.

* * *