"It's totally normal to have those dreams," Charlotte said. "I know I did. They'll go away… Just throw yourself into preparing for motherhood. You'll feel more confident that way."
I took her advice over the next few weeks, calling her and Annalise often to ask for advice. I also read articles and books on parenting philosophies, breast-feeding, and scheduling. And I signed up for a birthing class, where I learned everything from how to breathe during labor to how to bathe my babies.
But despite all of the assurances given to me and all of my preparation for motherhood, I still felt unsettled. I honestly had no idea what it was, but my mind kept drifting to Ethan. I barely saw him at all anymore. Every time I went to his flat to pick up clothing, he was gone, either out working or at Sondrine's. Or worse, I'd hear her husky laughter emanating from his bedroom. I wasn't jealous, because I was very happy in my own relationship. It was more just a pang of missing the way things used to be. I suppose that's the way you always feel when a close friend develops a romantic relationship that threatens to impact your friendship—or at least the everyday nature of it. I vaguely remembered feeling the same way when Rachel spent all of her time with her law school boyfriend, Nate. I reassured myself that although things would change in the upcoming year, Ethan and I would always remain close. Much closer than we'd ever been before my move to London. We just had to make the effort to see each other. So after a week of not connecting, I phoned his mobile and arranged a dinner alone.
"You seem down," Ethan said over our Thai takeaway back at his flat.
"Maybe a little," I said. "I think it's all the changes on the horizon. Meg and Charlotte said it's normal to feel apprehensive."
He nodded as he transferred our dinner from Styrofoam containers onto plates. "Yeah. Your life is about to change dramatically." Then he thought for a second and said, "Maybe it's also your unresolved conflict with your mother?"
"No," I said, blowing on my Pad Thai. "And I don't think it's Rachel, either, in case that's what you're thinking." I looked at him, expecting him to say something more about her. He still had not told me—nor had I asked—about their conversation on Christmas Day. Which was fine by me. I didn't want the confirmation of her engagement to upset the delicate balance in my life. I looked up at him and said, "I don't know. I can't put my finger on exactly what I'm feeling. Something just isn't quite right."
He suggested that perhaps I needed to nest. "You're prepared mentally… but now you have to get there physically." He took a sip of beer. "I think we need to get the nursery set up. I was thinking that I'd paint this weekend."
I smiled, thrilled that he still wanted us, but then hesitated and said, "What about Geoffrey?"
"What about him?"
"Well, I think he might want me to move in with him," I said. "He's been talking about finding a bigger flat," I said nervously, as if I were somehow betraying Ethan by moving out. We had come a long way since my frantic phone calls from New York when I had to practically beg to stay with him for a few weeks.
Ethan jabbed at a green pepper with one chopstick. "Is that what you want? To live with Geoffrey?" he asked in a judgmental tone.
"Why do you say it like that?"
"I'm not… I mean… I just didn't know you two were that serious," Ethan said. "It seems like it's really happening fast."
I felt myself getting defensive as I told him yes, we were getting quite serious and that Geoffrey was everything I was looking for.
"As long as you're happy," Ethan said. "That's all I want for you."
"I am happy."
Ethan looked pensive as he took a bite of brown rice. He chewed, swallowed, sipped his beer, and then said, "Well, I still think we should go ahead and paint your room… just in case."
"Just in case Geoffrey and I break up?"
"No. I didn't mean that. I just meant… well… just in case it takes longer than expected for you and Geoffrey to feel ready to live together. In any event, I want the boys to have a room here too."
"That is so sweet, Ethan. You're such a good friend," I said.
So that weekend, while Geoffrey was on call, Ethan painted the nursery walls blue, touched up the bookcase with a coat of fresh white paint, and assembled the spindle cribs I had charged a few weeks earlier. Meanwhile, Meg and Charlotte took me shopping for more supplies. I stuck to the essentials—nappies, wipes, bottles, bibs, onesies, a changing pad, and a double stroller—and charged the items on my last remaining credit card. But as I paid, Meg and Charlotte sneaked off and surprised me by purchasing some gorgeous and way too expensive blue toile crib bedding and a matching curtain for the small nursery window.
"We saw you admiring it," Meg said.
"Thank you, guys, so much," I said, accepting the gift. It was the kind of thing Rachel always did for me—generosity I had taken for granted in my selfish past.
"You're so welcome," they said, looking as happy as I felt.
I told them how lucky I felt to have such close friends in London.