The bed shakes with the force of Anya’s laughter. “Where did you do it? The bathroom? It was occupied for ages, but I did think that was my Aunt Claudette.”
“It wasn’t the bathroom,” I correct.
Anya lifts her hands in front of her ticking off on her fingers. “The cloakroom? Dark, private, comfortable I could see that. There was the honeymoon suite but honestly if you tell me you had sex in that room before I did I will be quite cross at you?—”
“The balcony,” I mumble quickly.
If Anya’s jaw drops any further, she’ll have to pick it up off the floor. “Sorry, did you just say thebalcony?”
I nod, cheeks flushing.
Anya throws her head back with a cackle. “Oh Rosie, you little whore. I’m so proud of you.”
“Stop laughing,” I giggle, nudging her as if I can push her out of the bed.
“Wait, wait, wait,” Anya says, catching her breath and tugging her phone out of her pocket. “We took photos out there, I need a visual.”
“Oh my God,” I groan. “You do not need a visual.”
She shoves her phone in my face, showing me candid pictures of her and Danny laughing as he twirls her in his arms overlooking the same view I stared out at before Jackson found me. “Here?”
I swipe my finger through the pictures until the shadowyalcove can be seen in the background. I point quickly before pulling my hand back under the duvet.
“There?” Anya pinches her fingers on the screen.
“Would you stop zooming in?” I groan.
“I need to know so I can tell my future nibling where they were conceived.”
“Whywould you need to tell her that?”
“It’s a girl?” Anya asks, the phone discarded as she turns to me with a wide smile.
I nod shakily, feeling tears well in my eyes as Anya squeals beside me. “We found out at our last appointment. I had a whole plan for how I was going to tell you. I got a little onesie made and everything. I was just waiting until you got home so I didn’t drag you off your honeymoon. But I guess I did it anyway.”
Anya wraps her arms around me. “Rosie, don’t be silly. We wanted to come home as soon as we heard the news.” She pauses. “So, you’re right. You probably would have dragged me home and then I’d be a divorced woman by now,” she jests and I splutter out a laugh. “More importantly–you’re having a little girl!”
She squeezes me tightly and I let my head fall on her arm as she presses a kiss to my hair.
“I get first dibs on the name.”
“You don’t get first dibs on the name,” I laugh, pulling back until we’re side by side.
“Why not? She was conceived atmywedding. She’s an honorary bridesmaid.”
“You also can’t name your bridesmaids.”
“I can, if they’re conceived at the wedding. It’s the rule.”
“What rule book is this?”
“It’s the ‘Best Man Impregnates Maid of Honor at the Wedding: How To Guide.’”
Twelve hours ago, I felt like the sky was falling around me, but lying in a bed with my best friend, it seems to still be up there.
Eventually, Smudge demands another bathroom break so Anya promises to make some tea. I emerge into the living room to find Jackson lounging on one sofa, Danny on the other.
“Get over here, pretty girl,” Jackson smiles, his eyes crinkling. His gaze roves me, assessing me from head to toe, lingering on my belly. I approach and he takes my hand in his, tugging me until I’m curled into his side on the sofa. I rest my head on his chest as his hand comes protectively to my stomach. “How are you?”
