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“What could have possibly possessed you to do that?” Lucy said, turning back to the now boiling kettle. “Was there any chance at all that I was going to say yes? What tea would you like? I have regular, camomile or peppermint.”

“Regular, please. With milk and one sugar.”

“I know,” said Lucy, without thinking. How did she know that? She’d never made him a drink. She must have noticed when Michael or Carrie made him one. Why would her stupid brain decide that was worthy of being remembered?

“I figured there was a small chance you might say yes. Extra support with the baby . . .” Dylan explained, leaning against the kitchen counter.

“I’m not going to chain myself to you for life just so you’ll change the occasional nappy,” Lucy snorted. She pointed towards his tea. “You’ll have to add the milk. Dairy makes me nauseous.”

She moved into the sitting room and he followed her, looking repentant.

“So, I’m guessing pregnancy hasn’t been much fun so far?”

Lucy sat down on the sofa. “Definitely not. The exhaustion is insane.” She motioned to Dylan to sit down at the other end, pushing thoughts of the last time they were together here firmly to the back of her mind.

“Hopefully it will improve after the first trimester,” Dylan said, knowledgeably. He perched on the edge of the other sofa cushion. Maybe he was also remembering what this sofa had seen . . .

“Did you change your sofa?”

Lucy felt her face turn bright red.

“No. Just . . . um, covered it with a throw. Got some cushions . . .”

A cheap way to make her sofa look different enough that she didn’t rub her forehead and close her eyes at the memory of her own behaviour every time she saw it.

Focusing on the now, Lucy threw him a look which made the corner of his mouth twitch. As frustrating as she found dealing with him, she was glad he wasn’t cross or upset, which further reassured her that she’d done the right thing. Not that she’d ever consider marrying him, for goodness’ sake.

“Would you like me to come with you to your midwife appointments?” Dylan asked.

“No!” replied Lucy immediately. She wasn’t going to have Dylan beside her while the midwives were asking her personal questions and probably examining her. Nightmare!

“OK . . .” said Dylan.

“Sorry. That would just be really weird. When I have a scan, you can come along, if you like,” she offered.

“Thanks,” Dylan said. “That would be good.”

“Also, proposing to me could have totally waited until tomorrow evening,” Lucy pointed out.

“I’d hyped myself up to do it. I didn’t want to wait.”

“Idiot.”

Lucy sank back into the sofa with a sigh.

“Are you all right?” Dylan asked.

“Yeah, just worn out.”

“That could be low iron levels, it’s very common in pregnancy, but a supplement should sort it out. Have you got one?”

Lucy gave him the side eye. “What do you know about iron levels in pregnancy?”

“I’ve been looking up a few things,” he admitted.

“You know I’m quite capable of finding out about my iron levels by myself, but, no, I don’t have a supplement. I do have an appointment with the midwives on Wednesday though. Apparently there’s going to be a load of paperwork to fill in, and I’ll be having a blood test. Presumably that’ll pick up any issues with my iron levels.”

“Good, you’ve been looking really pale and tired.”