‘No,’ he answers quickly and finally, with no room for pushing on the matter, not that it stops me.
‘What’s Steve doing?’ I ask, and he pulls back, momentarily faltering in his purposeful stride of actions.
‘Nothing,’ He’s lying, and I raise my eyebrows suspiciously, just so he knows that I know. ‘He’s looking into a few things for me.’ he huffs, reaching across to belt me up.
I bat his fussing hands away when he adjusts the lap belt across my tummy. ‘Will you just stop?’ I push him out and shut the door on him, leaving a brooding mass of male on the other side of the window, glaring at me. I’m beginning to wish he was taking me to my mum’s. I don’t know if I can stand it, and I’m not going to even try and convince myself that he can stop. Double babies looks like double mollycoddling. Jesse mollycoddling. And I know damn well what Steve’s looking into, and I also know that Steve being left intact by Jesse is a result of Steve agreeing to look into my drugging, and now the accident, too. I throw my head back against the headrest and turn a little to watch him settle in the driver’s seat, adjusting the settings that will take him further away from the wheel so his long legs are comfortable. ‘Why didn’t we just take my car?’ I ask, nodding across to my shiny snowball.
He freezes mid-adjust and looks at me out the corner of his eye. ‘You can’t drive too far.’
I smile on the inside. ‘No, but you could.’ I should throw a hissy fit and make him drive the damn tank. I wouldn’t be surprised if it was bullet proof as well.
‘Yes, I could, but I have this now.’ He brushes me off and starts the engine, revving it loudly on a satisfied smile. ‘Listen to that.’ he sighs, whacking it into gear and pulling off.
I begrudgingly admire the guttural roar of the DBS as I keep my relaxed head facing him, admiring his stunning profile. ‘Where are you taking me, then?’ I ask, retrieving my phone from my bag.
‘I told you, your mother’s.’
I roll my eyes dramatically. I know he would rather boil his head than see my mum willingly. ‘Okay,’ I sigh, dialling Kate.
Give me your phone.’ His hand comes towards me, his fingers grasping in the space between us. ‘No phone.’
‘I need to call Kate.’
My phone is seized and turned off. ‘I’ve called everyone who needs to know that we’re going away, including Kate. Unravel your knickers, lady.’
I don’t try to reclaim it. I don’t want it.
* * *
‘Ava, baby, wake up.’
I open my eyes and stretch, my hands hitting the ceiling above me. Confused, I look up and see the roof of a car. Then my sleepy eyes fall to the side and come face to face with my lovely control freak. He’s smiling brightly at me. ‘Where are we?’ I rub my eyes.
‘Cornwall,’ he replies quickly.
My waking brain quickly registers that I need a wee. ‘Stop it.’ I snap. I’m a little grizzly, too. ‘I need a wee.’ I shift in my seat and clasp the handle to get out, catching the first glimpse of our surroundings. I recognise it. The low wall circling the small graveyard, the little hut you can walk through to take the winding path down to the beach and the mixture of sand and leaves that gather in the gutter. It’s all familiar. Too familiar.
I swing to face him. ‘You weren’t kidding!’ I double check, but the line of hanging wetsuits in the garden across the road only confirm my fears. ‘You’re dumping me on my mum?’ I sound hurt. I am hurt. Perhaps he can’t cope with his ridiculous over-protectiveness either and has come to the conclusion that my parents looking after me throughout this pregnancy will probably prevent the heart attack that he’s bound to have. It might also save our marriage because I can see quite a few months of controlling on his part and defiance on mine, that is until I’m too fat to retaliate. I’m going to be like a whale. Huge. Enormous. Fat and pregnant and really un-sexy. I could cry.
I feel his hand slide across my neck and grasp my nape, turning my face towards his. ‘Don’t threaten me with Cornwall.’ He’s grinning. And I start crying, like a stupid, hormonal pregnant woman. Through my unreasonable tears, I see his grin vanish and a look of anxiousness replace it. ‘Baby, I’m joking. Anyone would have to slice their way through me to get to you. You know that.’ He pulls me over onto his lap, and I burrow into his neck, sobbing stupidly. I’m being completely unreasonable, I know that. He would never leave me. What’s the matter with me? ‘Ava, look at me.’
I sniffle into him and reluctantly pull my head up so he can see my tear stained mess of a face. ‘I’m going to be so fat. Massive! Twins, Jesse!’ My smugness from the hospital has long gone. All of the thoughts of torturing him with screaming babies and mood swings have just diminished. I’m going to be stretched to within an inch of my life. I’m twenty six. I don’t want saggy bits and stretch marks. I’ll never pull off lace again. ‘You won’t…’ I can’t think it, let alone say it.