Week 20: Bombshell

"Yes!" "No!"

Carla and Nick looked at each other and laughed.

"You don't want to find out the sex of the baby?" Carla asked.

"I was thinking," Nick explained. "Wouldn't it be a nice surprise if we waited."

"No, it wouldn't."

"But–"

"Nick, I need to be prepared. And it's nowt to do with what colour to paint the nursery or what babygro's to buy. It's... I can't explain it, but… I need to know. And besides, I'd like to start calling it something besides 'it'."

"Okay, that's fair enough," Nick conceded, turning to the sonographer who was waiting patiently by the side of the bed. "Yes, please, we would love to know, are we having a boy or a girl?"

For what felt like the millionth time that day, Gail pulled aside the net curtain from her front window and peered up and down the street, before turning back to check the clock on the wall.

They were late.

She'd calculated the time it would have taken for the appointment and then added the time it would have taken for them to drive back to the street. And, even if they had encountered heavy traffic, they should be back by now, she reasoned.

Something was wrong. She knew it.

She picked up the phone and made the call. His message service.

"Hi, Nick, it's mum," she put on a cheery voice while she left her son a message. "Give us a call will you and let us know... well, you know, let us know how it went and... give Carla my love. I– Oh, look, it's you, you're here! Hold on, Nicky, I'm coming outside now... bye... bye!"

Gail ended the call and rushed out onto the street, watching on eagerly as Carla guided her car onto the factory forecourt, waving to the couple as they passed her by.

"Well?" Gail asked, unsuccessfully attempting to mask her impatience, the moment Carla and Nick emerged from the car. "How did it go?"

"Everything's fine, mum," Nick said.

"And…?"

"And what?" Nick exchanged a glance with Carla and caught the hint of a smile on her lips. He knew she'd be enjoying this immensely.

"What is it?" Gail asked impatiently. "The baby! Is it a boy or a girl?"

"That's why we're having a family dinner tonight," he explained. "To make the big announcement. Seven pm. You are coming, aren't you?"

"Of course I– Carla," Gail tried her luck with the mother-to-be, imploring her for an answer. "Please."

"Oh, go on," Carla said to Nick. "Put her out of her misery."

"You do it."

"No, you. Okay." Carla turned to face Gail again and smiled, the same smile that spread across her face whenever she thought of or spoke about her baby. "We," she said, reaching out for Nick's hand. "Are having a boy."

"Oh!" Gail exclaimed. "A boy! That's wonderful!" Gail grabbed Carla and held her in a tight embrace. "A little boy. Thank you."

"You're… welcome?" Carla shrugged. "Not that I did much. I mean, I got drunk and shagged your son–"

"Carla!" Nick protested.

But it didn't matter; Gail paid neither Nick nor Carla any attention, she was fixated instead on her grandson and rubbed Carla's belly tenderly as she spoke to him.

"Hello, my darling boy," she cooed. "My handsome boy, just like your daddy."

"Carla!" Kylie called out from the steps of Underworld. "Thank goodness you're back. There's an urgent phone call for you. In the office."

Oh, thanks, Kylie," Carla said, turning her gaze downwards to where Gail was fussing over her bump. "I better…"

"You go," Nick urged. "I'll see you tonight. Mum?"

"Hmm?" Gail murmured.

"Carla has to go back to work now."

"Oh, really?" Gail sounded disappointed. "Can't you come in for a cuppa first? No? Oh, okay then. I'll let you go, but if there's anything–"

"Thanks, Gail," Carla said, her first steps towards freedom thwarted by Gail as she grabbed onto Carla's hand. "Okay…"

"I just wanted to say, Carla," Gail said sincerely, the eyes that peered up at Carla shining with joy. "That you've made me a very happy woman. My first grandson, it's so exciting."

"Yeah, isn't it," Carla said, disentangling herself from Gail with great difficulty. "I'll see you tonight. Alright then. Bye bye."

Free at last, Carla hurried to where Kylie was waiting for her and, linking their arms together, almost dragged her inside the factory.

"Who is it?" Carla asked.

"Who's what?"

"On the phone?"

"Oh, no one. Just getting you away from psycho granny out there."

"Nice move, thank you."

"So, are you gonna tell me? How did the scan go?"

"Baby is healthy," Carla smiled at the memory of seeing her son's picture on the monitor that morning. "Everything is developing just as it should be. He's, umm… he's pretty much perfect."

"He?"

"Yes, he," Carla nodded. "We're having a boy."

"Aww," Kylie gushed as she embraced Carla. "A boy. I'm so happy for you."

"Me too. Not that it matters to me, if he's a boy or a girl but, I dunno, somehow it makes everything a little more real to know it's actually a he. That he's a real person. Hey, who knows," Carla said, flashing Kylie a cheeky grin. "He could be a little playmate for Max."

"What?"

"Oh, nothing," Carla shrugged, feigning innocence. "I just thought, when they're older, Max could teach him how to play football, fish for tadpoles. I mean, I'd be alright with teaching him about fashion and shopping, things like that. But it'd be nice for him to have an older cousin to hang out with."

"Why are you bringing up Max?"

"No reason."

"I haven't changed my mind about Max," Kylie said. "We're not going for custody."

"Sure, whatever you say."

"Stop it."

"Stop what?"

"Stop trying to change my mind."

"Why not?" Carla cried. "When you and David would make brilliant parents for that little lad."

"But–"

"That's not up for debate. It's a fact. And before you start waffling on about how you screwed up and he's better off with someone else, remember that everyone deserves a second chance."

"What about a third chance?"

"Yes, even a fourth."

Nick surveyed the bottles his bartender had laid out on the bistro's countertop, studying the individual labels closely, wanting to choose only the very best for that evening.

"I think this one for the toast," he declared. "The Louis Roederer."

"The 2008?" the bartender voiced his concern. "That's a classic vintage, very pricey."

"Which is why I want to serve it tonight."

"It's your money."

"And for Carla, I need something non-alcoholic."

"The St Regis is quite popular," the bartender suggested, placing his hand on the bottle in question.

"Hmm…" Nick considered the bottle. "What was that Spanish one? You know, the sparkling rosé?"

"Oh, yes. I remember. Let me check," he said as he crouched down in front of the champagne fridge, eventually emerging with a bottle of Espumoso Rosado in his hand. "This one?"

"Yes! Put it to one side, along with the Louis Roederer."

"Nick."

Nick closed his eyes and took a deep breath; this was the last thing he needed today.

"Nick," she spoke his name again, a little firmer this time.

"I don't have time for this today," Nick said as he turned to face Leanne.

"You can't keep ignoring me," she said. "We need to talk about what happened."

"I know!" Nick snapped. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, okay. Look, I know we need to talk, but I can't, not today."

"What's so special about today?"

Nick shook his head, wishing, somehow, that he could simply disappear and not be forced to deal with Leanne.

"Nick?"

"If you must know, Carla had her twenty-week scan this morning, so we're having a family celebration here tonight."

"Wow. Twenty weeks already. So, you found out the sex?"

"It's a boy."

"I'm happy for you, Nick, I really am, but that doesn't change the fact that we still need to talk."

"Nick!" one of the kitchen staff called out to him. "Chef wants your opinion on the duck."

"I'm sorry, I need to go," Nick said, explaining to Leanne, "I'm having chef prepare a special meal for tonight. All Carla's favourites."

"This can't wait, Nick."

"It's going to have to."

Leanne watched Nick go, inwardly seething at how easily he'd brushed her off, and hastily formulated a plan.

"There you are," Nick said, hurrying to where Carla stood waiting for him just inside the bistro's entrance. "You look amazing."

"You like?" she asked, smoothing down her dress; black of course, with a boat neckline, a belted high waist and a midi-length tulip skirt. "I couldn't resist buying something new."

"It's perfect," Nick said, kissing her softly on the cheek. "You're perfect. Come on, everyone else is already seated."

"Table for two," an all-too-familiar voice cut in before Nick and Carla could move away from the door area. "We've got a booking."

"Leanne!" Nick gasped. "Peter, sorry, I didn't realise you were eating here tonight."

"It wasn't my idea," Peter muttered.

"Right, well, hold on," Nick stammered, turning to check the night's reservations in the book.

"See," Leanne said, coming up behind him and looking over her shoulder. "That's us, right there."

"What's all this then?" Peter asked Carla. "All dressed up. You look fabulous by the way."

"Thank you," she smiled at him. "Just a little family celebration. I had my twenty-week scan today. Found out we're having a boy."

"Oh, Carla, that's great news. I'm really pleased for you."

"Thanks."

Peter wasn't sure what else to say. What else could he say to this incredible woman who was so happy to be having a baby with another man. So, he just looked at her; and she looked at him. And suddenly it was as if they were the only two people in the room, maybe even the only two people on the planet.

"What are you playing at?" Nick hissed at Leanne.

"Well, you wouldn't speak to me earlier," she shrugged nonchalantly. "This was the only way I could think of to see you."

"I've already told you, I can't do this tonight."

"Too bad," she sneered. "You better find some time to talk to me before dessert is served, or I'm telling Carla everything."

"You wouldn't dare."

"Try me," she said, holding his gaze, not backing down, before calling out for her husband. "Peter! Our table's ready."

"How's your steak?" Leanne asked Peter, breaking the silence that had descended over the couple the moment their meals had been served.

"It's a steak," he muttered. "What do you want me to say?"

"Oh, cheer up, Peter," she scolded him. "You've done nothing but moan since we came out tonight."

"I don't see why we had to come in the first place. I was perfectly happy to bung those leftovers into the microwave."

"Well, I thought, since Si's at your dads, that we could have a nice romantic evening together. Only it turns out my husband is as romantic as a dead fish."

"Pardon me for wanting to relax after a hard week at work."

"So, spending time with me isn't relaxing?"

"Oh my– you twist everything I say."

"Oh my god," Leanne gasped, her gaze shifting off Peter and focusing on a nearby table. "He's never…"

"What?" Peter asked, craning his neck to see whatever had caught Leanne's attention.

"I think he's about to propose."

Carla stared in horror at Nick as he rose from his seat and kneeled in front of her; she could feel not only the eyes of his family on her, but the eyes of the entire dining room.

'Don't do it, don't do it,' she chanted in her mind. 'Please don't do it.'

But Nick, happy, smiling Nick, pulled out a small box, covered in gold embossed black leather, from his jacket pocket.

"Carla," he said, opening the box to reveal a ring. Carla couldn't afterwards recall what the ring looked like, what shape the diamond, or what metal the band; she was in complete shock, and not the pleasant kind. "A year ago, we were colleagues, running a business together and, while I admired you and respected you and, if I'm honest, fancied you, I never would have imagined that one year later we would be together, having a baby together, planning a future together as a family. Life is full of surprises, and you and our son are two of the best. I hope that we will get to experience many more in the coming years. Carla Connor, will you marry me?"

Carla stared at Nick; even if she knew what to say, she wasn't sure she was physically capable of speaking. She glanced about the room, but it was all a blur to her. Except for one face, one set of eyes, eyes that were at that moment connecting with her own. Peter.

She looked back at Nick, at the joyful expectation on his face, and felt her will weaken. How could she disappoint him? How could she break his heart? He was a good man, he deserved to be happy.

"Carla?" he repeated her name, his voice a hoarse whisper as fear and doubt started to plague him.

"Can we…" Carla gasped out the words. "Umm… can we talk in private?"

"Carla," Nick said. "It's not a difficult question."

"Please, Nick," she begged him. "Don't push me."

"Will you marry me or not?"

"I'm sorry, no."

"I thought…" Nick sniffed. "I thought we…"

"Nick, please, let's just go somewhere–"

But Nick turned and, his face set in a grim mask, stormed out through the bar area and, with a violent bang that shook the door on its hinges, into the kitchen.

"Can you believe she did that to him?" Leanne whispered to Peter. "In front of everyone. In front of his family."

"If she didn't want to marry him," Peter shrugged.

"Peter! She's having his kid!"

"So?"

"Whatever, I'm going to the loo."

"How could you do that to him?" Gail rounded on Carla. "After everything he's done for you."

"Not now, Gail."

"You can't tell me what to do, not after what you just did to Nick."

Carla bit her tongue; Gail was right, she had just hurt her son in the worst possible way, and so publicly. She had no right to be barking out orders. So, she did the only thing that she could think of. She walked away.

"Carla!" Kylie called after her. "Are you okay?"

"Of course, she's okay," Gail snapped. "Nick's the one that's not okay. I'm going after him."

"Don't you dare move," David warned her. "Give him some space."

"But–"

"David's right," Audrey said. "Let the two of them sort it out on their own."

Carla gulped in the cool night air as she slumped against the front wall of the bistro, cursing herself, cursing Nick for causing the humiliating scene that had just played out so horrifically inside. She was barely aware of the bistro door opening, nor of someone coming outside, not until they slouched casually against the wall next to her.

"Why did he have to go and ruin everything?" Carla cried, turning her head to look at Peter, his face so close to hers that she could feel his breath on her cheek.

"Most people think a proposal of marriage from the father of their baby is a good thing."

"Yeah, well, I'm not most people."

"I've noticed."

"So, what do I do now?"

"I can't answer that for you."

"Then why the hell did you come out here?"

"Dunno," he shrugged. "To make sure you were okay. I mean, that's what friends are for, right?"

"Hmmpf."

"Seriously though, Carla," Peter turned to face her directly, his shoulder propped up against the wall, his eyes searching out hers. "And be honest now, if this baby didn't exist, would you and Nick even be together?"

"That's not a fair question."

"I guess I got my answer."

"Who knows how things would've worked out. But the fact is, we are having a baby, so things… things are different."

"You can't be in a relationship with someone just because you have a child together."

"Why not?"

"Why not?" Peter repeated her question incredulously. "Well, because–"

"It's not like I don't love Nick. I mean, I don't not love… I have a lot of respect for Nick. And he will make a wonderful father."

"He can be a father without–"

"A full-time father," Carla insisted. "Something I never had."

"Hey."

Leanne tentatively approached Nick where he stood in the dark in the rear yard of the bistro.

"Have you come to rub salt in the wound?" he snarled at her.

"Of course not."

"Bet everyone's laughing at me in there."

"No one's laughing at you," she said. "I'm not. I never would."

"Lea, I'm not– I can't, not right now."

"It's important, Nick."

"Important?" Nick scoffed. "I just proposed to the woman who's carrying my baby in front of my whole family and she humiliated me."

"That's her loss."

"Can you please just leave me alone."

"No."

"Leanne, please, I don't have time for you right now."

"Well, I suggest you find time," she said. "Because I'm pregnant."