The euphoria of my public declaration of love and the subsequent sewing back together of our relationship doesn't last long. Cook discovered the truth about Freddie and everything comes tumbling down quite quickly. And all of a sudden we're at his funeral, Ems' hand clutched tightly in mine. Effy can barely walk, not from the effects of drugs or alcohol, but from grief. Anthea comes through for her daughter and is there by her side, along with Katie and Panda. It's a somber affair. Unlike the makeshift party in Freddie's shed just two weeks ago no one can muster up a joke or happy memory. We say our goodbyes at the end of the service and I suddenly realise this is it. Bar Emily, and Katie, I'll probably never see these people again except for a quick drink in two years or a random "Hey, how are you?" in the street. I feel like crying. We're a strange group but somehow we just work. After everything we went through together, A levels, the ill-fated camping trip, Sophia, relationships, break-ups, make-ups, we're like family.

In a post-Goa haze and knowing how much it means to her, I agree to go to some family get together and meet Emily's family. I ask, no beg Katie to take me shopping to get something respectable. I need an outfit that says, "I'm not corrupting Emily. I'm sorry that I almost broke her. I love her," and Katie seems to understand. We settle on tailored black pants, a light embellished white singlet, fitted red blazer and red flats. Katie says I should lightly curl my hair because it makes me look more innocent. During the two hour party I meet various aunties, uncles, in-laws and cousins. The Fitch grandparents are lovely, if not slightly unnerving like Rob. I manage to keep my cool meeting all these people who are openly judging me. Most seem to warm to me, and others seem indifferent. I am nervous to meet Emily's maternal grandparents, Betty and Ray Burke. Betty questions me, bordering on interrogation. Being so nervous (very unlike me) I stumble over some of my answers. In the end she says, "You're okay Naomi. Less of the devil than my daughter made you out to be. I can tell you love Emily. But I also know you almost broke her. So you be careful. We won't be so forgiving next time." I guess that's the best I could expect from the woman who raised Jenna.

We break up. It's early November and it's the first time we've seen each other since starting our second year at university. We meet in Birmingham, between our new lives, get a motel room. We go out for dinner, see a film, have breakfast in bed and make love numerous times. It's the perfect weekend, a beautiful end. A couple of hours before we have to leave, go back to reality, we sit down on the floor of the room facing each other.
"I love you," my voice is shaky.
You smile weakly, "I love you too."
"But love isn't enough anymore, is it?"
You shake your head, a tear rolls down your cheek.
"Life is shit. I fucking love you but-"
You stop me with a soft kiss, our tears intermingling. "Sh. I know. I feel the same. It, us, we don't work anymore. Work, uni, study, a social life and a relationship is lot to ask from anyone let alone two people who don't live in the same fucking city."
"I could apply for a transfer. It's probably not too late. I just need you…can't be without you…" I babble.
"Naomi stop. You love Goldsmiths, London and I love Manchester. If either of us moved, we'd only end up resenting the other and having some ugly, bitter break up. It's better this way."
I nod. She's always made so much sense. "You're right. I know that. I just don't, can't be without you."
You smile, "Yes you can. You can do anything," and then you lean over and kiss me. It's soft, loving at first but then it becomes more desperate. Our tongues touch, hands wander, grabbing, clothes fly across the room and there on the floor we make love for the last time. We come together, both silently crying.

For the next six months I throw myself into studying. It's the only thing I can handle. Although I know our break up was for the best, it doesn't stop my heart feeling like it has been cut in half. Occasionally on the good days (few and far between) I make the effort and go out. Boys and girls alike hit on me those few times but I push them away, the thought of kissing, touching someone else making my stomach turn. I walk out of my last exam, into the surprisingly warm sun and suddenly a feeling of happiness envelopes me. I realise that what Emily and I shared for a time was special and I am lucky to have been loved so deeply. I feel good.

I take a study tour to Switzerland for the first half of my summer break. The second half is spent schlepping through Europe on a shoestring budget. I take photo after photo, constantly reminding myself to put the damn thing down so I don't only remember Europe through a viewfinder. I meet many people. One, is particularly wonderful. Bek is from Australia and we immediately become friends. She comes back to London with me. After a boozy night out we have passionate, fumbling sex. I don't tell her it's the first time I've had sex in eight months and the last person I slept with was the love of my life. She falls asleep and only then do I allow myself to go to the bathroom and weep.

I graduate with first class honours. I had spent my previous summer doing an internship at a small political e-zine with an environmental focus and kept in touch with the editor throughout my final year at uni. They offer me a job. My uni friends Ben, Maxi and I rent an apartment together. I have bills to pay. I'm an adult. It's much less exciting than I had imagined.

My first year of work is a daze. I do grunt work to prove my worth. I do coffee runs, answer basic phone calls and emails and research. I am rewarded with small stories that probably no one except my mum, Ben and Maxi read. Throughout all the work, drunken nights out, tube rides and grocery shopping I meet Harry. He's an environmental lawyer, four years my senior. He isn't bothered that the only relationship I've had was with a woman. We go out for seven months before he cheats and I realise a little bit of the pain Emily must have felt when I did the same. Naturally we break up. Ben, Maxi and I hit the town cursing relationships, drinking lots and I have a revenge pash with a Prince William lookalike.

I make my first trip to Bristol in over a year for a funeral. I was out celebrating my 24th birthday when I got a call from Katie of all people. Normally I would have ignored it, let it go to voicemail. But drunken curiosity propelled me to answer the call. Effy overdosed on pills. They knew it was deliberate for the four notes she left at the bedside, for Anthea, Jim and her brother Tony and Katie. Since college ended Katie had stayed in Bristol, attending Bristol Uni. Her and Effy had become unlikely best friends. She said in her letter to Katie that their friendship was the only thing that kept her going for so long, but that she couldn't do it anymore, she needed to meet Freddie in the after. The whole gang, except Thomas made it to Effy's funeral. We went out for a drink after the service. Knowing Effy it seemed fitting. Fundamentally we are all the same people, but at the same time we had all changed so much. The whole thing felt disjointed.

I interviewed for a position at the Times and nearly fell of my chair when four days later when they called to offer me the job. That night my girlfriend Erica made me a two course dinner and led me into the bedroom for dessert.

Somehow I stumbled upon travel writing and fell in love. Writing, travel and photography combined my three loves, and being paid for was the dream I never knew I had come true. I saved enough money to buy a nice two bedroom townhouse. After a few years I was able to go freelance and enjoy the freedom of choosing which assignments to accept, or even better pitching a story and making it come to fruitation.

On the "Adventureland" assignment in New Zealand, as the magazine were calling it, I met Johnny in Auckland. I had just jumped off Sky Tower to culminate a week of extremities, bungee juming, Zorb balling, white water rating, hot springs and lots more. I felt exhilarated and headed to a bar I was to include in my article for a drink. Johnny was the guitarist in the indie band that played in the bar. We talked a lot. I felt a real connection with him so I invited him back to my hotel room. We talked more and drank a whole bottle of Pinot Noir. Eventually we got down to business. In the morning I woke up a banging headache and no trace that Johnny had ever been in my room.

Almost three months after my trip to New Zealand I go to the doctors office, a place I generally try to avoid. I hate doctors. You go in for the flu and they ask questions about your sex life. Just shut up and prescribe me some antibiotics you bastard. I had been feeling a bit under the weather. I doubted I had caught some disease. It's not like I was travelling in the South American rainforest. I was in New Zealand, a purportedly civilised country. Imagine my surprise when the doctor tells me I am 10 weeks pregnant. I couldn't be…then I remembered the dalliance with Johnny. Embarrassingly I couldn't tell you whether he wore a condom or not, I was too drunk. I barely remember the sex. I feel confused. I don't know what I should do. It's not like I'm some ill-equipped 17 year old. A few years ago I would have immediately booked an abortion without a second thought. Now at 29 I feel like maybe I should think this through a bit more.

I'm in between assignments and enjoying the rare break from travelling and or writing an article. Wandering the streets of Notting Hill, a place I've never had time to visit until now, I bump into Emily. She is iridescent as ever. As we hug my heart flips. We talk so effortlessly, it's like I just saw her yesterday. It turns out she's just been offered and accepted a job teaching primary at a school not too far away from my place. We have lunch and the whole time our feet and legs are touching. I invite her back to my place and she accepts without hesitation. As soon as the door closes her lips are on mine. We don't make it to the bedroom. We fuck against the hall table, collapsing in laughter afterwards.
She is still giggling as she smoothes her hair, "What are we teenagers? We didn't even make it to a bed, a couch…"
"Hey you're the one who attacked me. I tried to lead you to my bed but you pushed me onto this table, and straddled me, effectively trapping me."
"I didn't hear you complaining."
And like always she is right.
"You look good Naoms."
I shiver at the use of her pet name for me, "So you do Ems. So do you."
"So this is your place huh? Wouldn't have taken you for the home owning type."
"Neither would I. I happened to walk past when it was open for inspection. I fell in love."
"Give me a tour?"
"Okay."
I show her around my place and we have sex again, this time a lot more gently, slower on my bed. Lying next to her, hands clasped together, it feels like coming home.
"So no girlfriend, boyfriend then?"
"No. I always thought you'd be married."
"I was engaged for a bit."
"Your mum would have loved that, a wedding to plan."
"Yeah, a bit too much."
"What happened? It's okay if you don't want to say."
"No it's okay. We weren't right. She wasn't like-" Emily abruptly cuts herself off.
"Like what?"
Emily turns over to face me, and whispers, "Like you Naomes. She kept pressuring me to set a wedding date and then I realised the reason I didn't want to set one was because I didn't want to marry her. No matter who I met, I always compared them to you and no one ever lived up to you."
"Oh."
"Yeah."
I close my eyes for a second and breathe. This is too surreal. "This can't be real."
"What do you mean?"
"The girl who I never stopped loving just told me everything I ever wanted to hear."
She smiles, "I did?"
"Yeah. Emily Fitch, I love you."
"I love you too Naomi Campbell."
We smile at each other, basking in absolute joy. Suddenly I remember, "Emily!"
"Yeah?"
"I'm pregnant?"
"What? But you said there was no boyfriend…" her tone is accusing, and considering my past I can't blame her.
"There isn't."
"Then how?"
I tell her about Johnny.
"How far along are you?"
"I'm 13 weeks. I found out two weeks ago. I don't know what to do. What do you think? Should I keep the baby?"
"Naomi I can't tell you what to do in this situation."
"But what would you do if you were me?"
"Honestly?"
"Yes."
"I would keep it."

It takes 17 hours of arduous labour but at end I am rewarded with a beautiful little boy. They place him in my arms and I look down at him in wonder. He's so small, so delicate, so perfect.
"Hey there little man," I whisper to him. "I'm your Mum. I just want you to know how much I love you and how beautiful you are. Do you want to meet your Mummy? Of course you do." I look up at Emily and pass him over.
She cradles him in her arms, "Oh Naomi he's perfect. What are you going to call him?"
"I think you mean what are we going to call him? I was thinking Oliver Robert Campbell."
"Robert as in my dad?" she's shocked.
I smile, "Yeah. What do you think?"
With tears in her eyes but a smile on her face she says, "I love it."

It takes us a while to get used to having Ollie around and his needs, but we seem to manage. He turned six months old two days ago. Already I feel like he's growing up so fast.

We have a very intimate wedding back home in Bristol. Now that I've provided her with the first grandchild, and named him in honour of her husband, Jenna suddenly thinks I'm the best thing since sliced bread. After bumping to each other on the street, I asked Emily if she'd like to move in with me. It might strange to anyone else, but for us it was the right thing to do. Together we decided to keep the baby and make a family together. Emily took me by complete surprise my proposing. There was no hesitation as I accepted her proposal. Only a vehement plea that we save the marriage till after the baby was born. I didn't want to look like a whale in our wedding photos. The wedding is magical. I get emotional saying my vows (we wrote our own). When Emily slips the ring on to my finger, it's cliché but I feel complete.