She looked at her husband lying on the sofa smoking a joint and watching Top Gear.
She was happy with him, loved him dearly, desperately.
He wasn’t aware she was studying him and was commenting on the TV, she smiled and nodded and looked back to the screen.
They’d been together six years, all good years, full of love, excitement, spontaneity, companionship….they really were meant to be.
He was the first man who had ever really < i >been there< /i > for her, throughout everything, no ifs buts or maybes; he was just there holding her hand helping her through whatever they might be facing together.
He loved their life together.
They had decent jobs, enough to pay the bills with a little left for a social life, they couldn’t always afford holidays but they could always afford to do
< i >something.< /i >
She’d lost count of the many weekends they’d jumped on his bike and just disappeared somewhere, the beaches they’d lain on getting high with nothing but each other for entertainment.
When the baby was born they would be trapped. Together because they had to be instead of the way it had always been, together because they needed to be.
He looked at her and smiled, the smile that showed he was hers forever, and then he reached over and put his hand on her belly the smile becoming ever wider as the baby kicked.
Maybe things would be ok after all…