Chapter 55: Resolutions

A/N: I kinda stole New Year 2018 and made it gay... Sorry to the Carter shippers xxxx


Carla

I wake with a start, sharp pains in my legs triggering me to sit upright. Forcing myself to refrain from waking Michelle up with any cries of pain, I stretch them out, trying anything to dull the cramping.

This was getting worse. For the last couple of days the aches in my legs were intensifying. After researching my eyes to squares and making my mind fizz, I gathered this was normal. But it didn't stop me from wanting to punch the air at how I couldn't get any decent sleep. Now was supposed to be the time when I was storing energy.

An odd thought pops into my mind suddenly as the pain begins to subside. Corn on the cob. I needed corn on the cob. My stomach gurgles loudly at the thought and warily, I glance at Michelle, worrying it was loud enough to wake her. Forcing my legs to move, I push myself off the bed, passing the mirror on my way out of the bedroom and catching my moonlit figure that was cast from the crack in the curtains. I felt huge. It had also been a concern of mine that I was growing too fast, but after spending more time googling sixteen week twin bumps at Underworld than I had been actually working, I realised that this also seemed to be the same in other women carrying twins this far along in pregnancy. It made my stomach churn at the thought. I wasn't even halfway yet. The babies were apparently only the size of avocados and they were due to grow to watermelons by full term, according to Michelle's informative and rather nauseating pregnancy app that she shoved in my face every breakfast time. The thought of having two full size watermelons swimming around inside me was enough to make me faint. Although, Michelle had assured me it was unlikely I would carry twins to a full forty weeks, it still didn't soothe the headache that started to pound every time I dared to google full term twin bumps. I force my mind not to run back over the anxiety of stretch marks that were bound to start appearing soon. My ruined body. I would never let them live this down.

Corn on the cob.

The thought tiptoes back into my mind and the craving is enough to drag me away from the mirror, pattering out into the kitchen and opening the fridge.

Of course. Why would we even stock corn on the cob? I was pretty sure I hadn't eaten it since that rancid barbecue that Johnny attempted to put on at the last caravan holiday when I was fifteen. I'd complained the whole time because it got stuck in my teeth, but scoffed it all the same. Food was food back then.

Grasping at a packet of nuts, I try and trick my cravings, stuffing a handful into my mouth in the least elegant way possible. If anyone could see me now, my reputation would be well and truly destroyed.

My tummy rumbles again, not satisfied with the substitute, causing me to emit a small groan as I lean back against the now closed fridge, sliding down it into a heap on the floor and starting to randomly cry. The nuts spill out onto the floor and I don't bother retrieving them. I just sit there and cry. For no apparent reason, or maybe every apparent reason. I didn't know anymore. I just wanted corn on the cob.

"Is everything okay?" Michelle's tired voice sounds in tune with the light brightly casting over the room. I let out another soft sob, finally lifting my head from where my knees are pulled up to my chest. I pout slightly, like a little kid, trying to work out whether she was worried or confused. Probably both. It wasn't every night she woke up to see her wife sat on the kitchen floor, a pool of nuts by her feet, looking like an animal needing to be rescued by Dog's Trust.

"No!" I whine, although she can tell it's nothing serious from the way I was acting. She knew my real crying, and she knew my spoilt-brat sulky crying. Although this was a very serious issue for my stomach, I had to admit, this time it was the latter. "My legs hurt."

"Again?" She sighs, hesitating before kneeling down next to me, massaging a hand over my calf which I now have stretched out. She was good at that. Recently I should be paying her to be my personal masseuse. But she insisted it was her duty, not that I was complaining. "Flex your leg." She orders gently and I follow her instructions, as if she was a trusted physiotherapist. "Release." She says, before massaging her palm against me again. "I'm gonna get you some magnesium supplements, they tend to help."

"How do you know everything?" I ask softly and she finally meets my gaze, smiling supportively at my innocence. "I really, really want corn on the cob. That's why I was crying."

"Not simple are you?" She finishes massaging my legs, which admittedly now feel a lot better. "Well we haven't got any."

"I know." I suddenly burst into tears again pathetically at how blunt her response was.

"Baby, calm down." She moves me forward, rubbing my back in gentle circles. "Calm down and I'll sort it."

"How? It's two in the morning." I moan as she gets up to find her iPad, rubbing her eyes tiredly. I almost felt guilty, if I wasn't so selfish. "Do you think if I repetitively call Dev, it'll wake him up and he will open the shop for me to get some corn on the cob?"

"I don't think that's the most sensible solution."

"Well do you have any better ideas?"

"Yes, actually." She arches an eyebrow, waiting for me to stop acting like a brat. "There's this copycat KFC place in town, they have corn on the cob, and they open late on weekends."

"Oh!" I let out a cry of happiness, which prompts her to laugh in amusement. "...What else do they have?"

"Well, mainly spicy chicken and you've told me enough times that's a massive no." She flicks through the menu and I screw my face up at the thought. Spicy chicken was something that had made me want to hurl in my last pregnancy as well. It was to be avoided at all costs. "Uh, fries, ice cream, garlic bread-"

"Yeah."

"Garlic bread?"

"All of it." I pull myself up eventually, now in a much happier mood that I was getting my way. How did she cope with me? She didn't even seem to mind me acting like a child half the time. "How long's it going to be?"

"Half an-"

"Ugh." I groan, throwing myself down on the sofa, but still being careful in my strop so I didn't crush the babies in the process. I just lie there, face down for about five minutes, listening to the whir of the kettle, the chime of a tea spoon, the pattern of Michelle's feet on the kitchen tiles.

"Tea?" Is what eventually causes me to sit up, watching as she lays a mug on the coffee table. I flash her an appreciative smile, which is returned while she clicks the TV on. "Not much on at this time."

"We could just talk?" I suggest and she sighs, eventually turning the television off and pulling her legs underneath her in the armchair. "Sorry for waking you."

"You didn't." She smiles warmly. "I have this reflex, you see? As soon as I feel the bed go cold I wake up. I could've gone back to sleep."

"But you didn't?"

"Not when I could sense my pregnant wife was having a tantrum in the kitchen." She teases me, sipping on her tea and I glance back to see where she has dusted the nuts up from the floor. She was an excellent mother, she was even excellent at mothering me, and that was a challenge. "You shouldn't be sleeping on your back."

"How did you know I was sleeping on my back?" I frown, concerned at her knowledge.

"Because your hair is all fluffy at the back." She informs me, matter-of-factly and I brush it down with my hand defensively. "And your leg cramping gets worse when you do that... Past sixteen weeks you should be lying on your side. Otherwise your uterus can compress a blood vessel that's-"

"Ok, ok, la la la." I stick my fingers in my ears childishly. It was almost annoying. I really did see where Ali got his passion for medical knowledge from now that I'd entered into this pregnancy with her. Considering she had been fifteen when she was pregnant with him, she was remarkably well informed on every single thing happening in my body, and apparently, my mind. "That's not what I wanted to talk about."

"Right ok, you lead." She shrugs, sipping on her drink again and allowing me to have a strop. She had the patience of a saint, putting up with me all these years. Pressing the self-destruct button and mouthing off when the slightest thing didn't go my way. Yet she knew exactly how to handle me. She knew when to wait it out and when to intervene. Maybe I really had found my person.

"...Will you be disappointed if it's two boys?" I fiddle with the tassels on a cushion, daring to ask the question that had now been playing on my mind for weeks.

"Course I won't, silly." She says it so confidently that I look up to meet her gaze. "Gender's nothing at the end of the day."

"But you want a girl?" I assume and she hesitates, shrugging slightly. "You want one of them to be a girl?"

"Well... Course, yeah." She admits, seeming deep in thought. "Only because I've had three boys..." She trails off, swallowing hard before connecting her eyes with mine again. "You know? I've never had a girl."

"...Neither have I." I just drop my head again, a dull ache in my throat as I try to push back my stupidity. Why did I say these things? "I remember when they told me it was a girl... Only it wasn't a happy moment, like it's supposed to be... It was the saddest moment of my life, actually. Because she was gone. She was a little girl and she was gone, in the same sentence."

"...And she'll be just as special, no matter how old these two get." Michelle's voice is gentler now, quieter, soothing me.

"You said something to me that day, something which I haven't forgotten." I look back at her, glassy eyed, reading her expression. "Because I'd felt so lonely... And so lost and so empty. And I thought, this is it... I have nothing left. Peter's gone, she's gone, Tina's gone and I'm going down for it. But you said to me, you said 'you've got us, no matter what happens, you'll always have us'. And that really stuck in my mind because I realised that despite all the hurt and sadness and grief, there was still one person that I could always depend on. And one person who understood that."

"Yeah and she's not going anywhere." She moves to sit on the sofa, stroking a hand through my hair, linking our fingers tightly. "She's sticking around, even if it is to buy you corn on the cob at two in the morning. She'll always be here."


Michelle

"Right we've got two options baby." I close my computer down, the office now dim after everybody had left. Carla looks up from where she has been curling the edge of a post-it-note repetitively for ten minutes. "We either go over to The Rovers and bring in the new year at Johnny and Jenny's party."

"...Whatever option two is, I'll take it." She mutters, rolling her head onto her shoulder and throwing the post-it-note down on her desk.

"Well I'm glad you said that." I grin, picking up my car keys and waving them in the air. "Because the car is all packed and ready to go."

"...What?" She narrows her eyes.

"Booked us a a night away at a five star hotel in Leeds." I hold out a piece of paper with all the confirmation details on and her eyes light up, shocked at my surprise. "Nineteenth floor so we can see the whole of the city tonight, watch the fireworks go off. I reckon you could do with a bit of time out. What do you say?"

"I say..." She hesitates, scanning the booking, corners of her mouth tweaking upwards. "That there was a reason I married you Michelle Connor and I think it might be this."


Carla

"Hi, Michelle Connor. We've got a room booked for one night." Michelle checks us in once we reach the desk and I scan my surroundings. She had done well; crystal chandeliers, marble staircases, even a velvet red carpet rolled out from the entrance to the reception desk.

"It's a double room, is that correct?" I hear the receptionist ask, frowning slightly at the surprise in her voice but continuing to pace around the lobby. The bar was cast in blue light, each spirit lit up invitingly. This was the second New Years in a row I wasn't able to have a drink.

"Carla?" I'm pulled out of my thoughts at my wife's voice, turning to face where she is holding the key card in the air. "You coming then?"

"Can we play snooker later?" I ask, pointing to the table I had been eyeing up. I was surprised it wasn't crowded with players, especially on New Years Eve, but then again I assumed people would be out partying, only to fall into their rooms drunk at 1am. "Please?"

"Snooker?" She gives a slight laugh, taking a few steps towards me and gazing at the table herself. "Not easy to play while you're pregnant, honey."

"Well I can certainly try." I furrow my brow, casting my eyes over her face. "Afraid you'll lose?"

"Uh, no." She gives me a soft nudge. "I learned from the best. Liam used to take me down to the youth club on Thursday's and teach me."

"Not that youth club." I screw my nose up at the thought, my mind briefly skimming over memories of my teenage years, having to share Michelle's can of pop because I didn't have the money for my own. "I wonder whether that's still standing."

"Well, however you want to spend New Years Eve." She runs a hand through my hair and I smile victoriously. "Let's dump the bags first though, yeah?"


Michelle

"Drink?" I offer, handing Carla the cues I had retrieved from reception.

"Yeah." She looks more interested in the equipment in her hand. "The most exciting non-alcoholic thing they have."

After ordering two non-alcoholic mojitos because I didn't want to leave Carla to be sober alone, I head back to the table, weighing up where she had set everything out.

"You're sure you want to do this?" I swap a cue for her drink, her confident smirk giving me the answer. "Alright."

"Right coin toss to see who breaks first." She pulls a pound from her pocket and I arch an eyebrow, slightly turned on by her competitive spirit.

"Ooh, she knows the lingo." I tease her, prompting a cocky scowl to be cast in my direction.

"Heads or tails?"

"Tails."

"Ooh, story of my life that." She winds me up, flipping the coin as my jaw drops at her wit. "Heads." She sings, showing it to me as proof and I just shrug, moving back, knowing what her decision would be. "Right, these two are about to get squashed because I am not letting pregnancy get in the way here." She bites her lip in concentration, leaning over the table and lining up her shot before potting a red ball. I just cast my eyes over her, chewing the straw of my drink as I watch her every move with affection and lust. "Hm, green." She decides out loud, taking a moment before potting her selected colour.

"...I didn't know you could even play." I just comment, impressed at her skills and she straightens up after missing one, folding her arms just above her bump. "Didn't have Sharon or George down as professional players."

"Rob taught me." She narrows her eyes challengingly, taking a sip of her drink. "Before he got sent down the first time. It was the one thing we even did together when I married your brother. It was also the only time I'd go back near that estate again, as long as we were going for a snooker game in The Dog and Gun."

"I never knew." I just speculate, leaning over the table and making brief eye contact with her before shooting at a red, managing to pot it into the left corner. "I bet Paul was never happy about that."

"Paul didn't know." She scoffs, eyeing me up like a piece on a chess board. It was now that I realised perhaps such a short dress had been a bad idea for a game which involved so much bending over. But then again, maybe it would work out in my favour. "He'd have never let me go near that pub once we were out of that estate."

"Rightly so." I point out, rolling my eyes as I narrowly miss the next shot, moving out the way for her turn. "No way was he letting his precious trophy piece out of his sight."

"Trophy piece?" She laughs pointedly, hesitating to take in the phrase before aligning her next shot. "Mind your language, you. I'm nobody's object."

"Well you're certainly not that to me."

"Just a medal?" She bites her lip, straightening up again. "Silver?"

"Gold." I move around her, brushing my fingers along her shoulder as I do so, smirking to myself as I lean back over the table. I can feel her eyes burning into my figure as I work on my shot, finding it rather distracting that I could practically feel her gaze walking up my thigh. "You're putting me off."

"Excuses." She laughs softly as I miss again, knowing full well at this point that I was out of my depth.

"It's not like we're playing for anything."

"Aren't we?" She lowers her voice and I look up to notice the twinkle in her eye, blushing softly as I dare to look away. "We'll see about that."


Carla

"I do not believe it." Michelle announces as I elegantly pot the final ball, gazing at me with a pointed brow, biting her lip in amazement.

"Thank you." I throw the cue down, bowing dramatically and milking the win. "And sixteen weeks pregnant. Hey, I should enter tournaments."

"Well technically it's three against one." She points out and I shake my head at her flurry of excuses, taking a few steps towards her.

"Good game, lover." There is a husky tone to my voice as I wrap my arms around her neck, brushing my nose against hers. "Do I get my prize now?"


Michelle

"Was that not good for you?" I finally ask, gazing over at where she was stood at the window, dressing gown now pulled around her. Her head flicks backwards to look at where I was still lying in bed, duvet wrapped around me.

"Of course it was." She shoots me a coy smile, dark hair falling over her shoulders. "I'm just thinking."

"Do you want a brew?" I ask when she has turned back to the window, receiving no response and getting up to put the kettle on anyway. I take the remaining dressing gown from the wardrobe, slipping it on and then padding over to her. Wrapping a piece of her hair around my finger and dotting kisses along the back of her neck, hearing her emit a content hum at the contact. "What are you thinking about?"

"Aidan." She doesn't even hesitate, just giving a sad smile as she stares out at the lights below us. The view spanned across the whole of Leeds, maybe there was even a glimpse of Manchester in the distance. Houses, hospitals, schools, offices. People being born. People dying. People just married. People breaking up. People crying. People laughing. People sleeping. People living, living their lives. Hundreds and hundreds of people. People we would never know. But they all had their own story. They were their own protagonists in their own novel. A novel nobody could ever read as in depth as the person writing it. "Just thinking back to last New Years... I remember dancing with Aidan a little after twelve. Close to tears because I thought... This could be my last one. This could be the last New Years when I get to dance with my brother... And it was, ey? Only not in the way I thought... Never in the way I thought." She wipes a tear from her cheek and I wrap my arms around her from behind, swaying slightly as we look out at the view. "I'd only just found him again. I'd only just realised how much I loved him. My little brother... We didn't get enough time."

"...I know." Is all I can whisper, pressing a kiss to her hair as she cries softly. "He loved you so much."

She shifts her gaze to me, searching my expression for reassurance. "Really?" I just nod, brushing the damp hair from her cheek, clearing her tears with the pad of my thumb. "...You thought I was pregnant that night, remember?"

"Oh yeah." I smile at the thought, tracing my mind back. Me and Maria either side of the bar, summoning our theories from mid-air as to why Carla had been drinking lemonade with some mint as a pretence for booze. "Well look how that one worked out."

"I don't know I just remember thinking you looked really nice in that lace top... With the piece cut out." She manages a slight wicked smirk and I roll my eyes, batting her lightly. "Thinking wow... Robert is the luckiest person alive. I hope he realises that... I guess I didn't see his fate coming either."

"Nobody knows what's coming." I tell her gently. "This year alone is proof of that... We just have to enjoy every moment while we can. Especially now we've got everything we could ever want."

"Yeah. I guess so." The words are whispered, as the scene in front of us begins to glow with colour. Fireworks erupting in wonderful shades of scarlet and aqua and shamrock. And this time, I don't shudder. I don't even panic at the quiet thuds and crackles in the distance. Because I knew I was safe. I wouldn't want to be anywhere else. "Happy New Year, Chelle."

"Happy New Year." I repeat, turning her to face me and gently kissing her lips. "Two thousand and nineteen. Bring it on."


Carla

"Right, there better be a good reason for dragging me out of bed on New Years Day." Kate slumps down in the booth opposite us, folding her arms as I arch a brow.

"Ooh, having fun were we?"

"We were watching a film." She narrows her eyes, sassing me and I smile in satisfaction, wasting no time in handing her the envelope I had readily prepared. "What's this?"

"Ah, this is the thing with envelopes, you see." Michelle winds her up. "If you open it, you find out what's inside."

"You two clearly got some last night." Kate speculates, causing me to blush at the accusation. She carefully opens the envelope, pulling the confirmation out and unfolding it. "...Dubai?"

"We checked with Rana weeks ago, she's got next week booked off ready." I grin in excitement, her eyes drifting upwards to make sure I was serious. "It's kinda your engagement present but we wanted to keep it a surprise."

"Are you kidding me?" She squeals, jumping up suddenly and Jenny peers over at the commotion. "Oh my God you're the best! I've always wanted to go!"

"Uh, go where?" Jenny sticks her nose in, observing the scene before her. "What's going on?"

"Carla's booked for us all to go to Dubai!" Kate waves the confirmation email in the air and Jenny's eyes light up momentarily.

"Oh! Well I'm not sure we'll have the staff to cover the pub." She jumps to conclusions. "But we can certainly try. Anything for a free holiday."

"No, not you." Kate crushes Jenny's excitement with her verbal bluntness, before I can intervene. "Just us four."

"Oh..." Jenny trails off, looking thoroughly disappointed.

"This is going to be the gayest holiday ever!" Kate claps her hands and I furrow my brow, unsure about the assumption.

"I'm not sure it is-"

"A five star hotel!" Kate reads, cutting me off and I just smile at her excitement, noting how Jenny's glumness was practically flooding the pub. "This is the best surprise ever."

"Ok well there's more, so sit down." I order and she looks up in shock, wondering what could possibly top this. Obeying my orders, she slides back into the booth, hesitantly taking the envelope Michelle is handing her.

"Right..." She almost looks nervous as she opens it, reading the paperwork inside multiple times before daring to look at us for confirmation. "...Thirty percent of the Bistro?"

"That's right." Michelle nods, leaning forwards slightly to broach the next bombshell, "I want you to manage the place."

"...Michelle... I..." She trails off, shocked at the generosity. "Why are you doing this?"

"Because you're family." She grins, taking her hand. "Me and Carla are busy with the factory, so we need someone to be our eyes and ears at The Bistro. I've seen you in that place, you're more than capable. I even told Ryan you'd be his new boss and he can't wait."

"Ryan wasn't fuming that you didn't ask him?"

"I think he was relieved." She laughs, Kate's expression softening slightly. "So what do you say, kid? You up to the challenge?"

"I mean, yeah." She shrugs, biting her lip nervously. "If you've got the faith I can do this then, I'll give it a shot."

"That's my girl!" I cheer, beckoning to Jenny who brings over the champagne I had previously asked her to provide once I had sent her the cue. "Would you like one Jenny?"

"Ooh, never turn down a drink, me." Her eyes sparkle, having already poured herself a large glass.

"Right well, here's to two thousand and nineteen." I raise my glass of orange juice to them. "And new beginnings for us all. Cheers."


Michelle

"Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday dear Carla. Happy birthday to you." I sing elegantly as I enter the bedroom, placing a cake down on the tray in front of her, alongside a breakfast of pancakes and fruit. "There wasn't room for forty four candles so I just put four on each side."

"Well I'll settle for being eight." She smiles appreciatively, blowing the candles out. I slide back into bed next to her after grabbing her bag of presents. "You don't half spoil me. Did you make this?"

"Yes."

"Did you?" She tests me and I furrow my brow.

"Yes! I did, Carla!" I scald her, annoyed at the look of disbelief she was throwing in my direction. "Why do you think I sent you to Maria's yesterday for that pamper session?"

"Hm... Well it looks very nice." Her tummy grumbles softly and I stifle a laugh. "Babies think so too, apparently."

"Open this one first." I say like a child, offering her the first present and she glances at it warily.

"This isn't gonna make me cry again is it?" She gently pulls at the ribbon.

"Well," I smile, as she pulls the Versace box out of the wrapping. "Depends how bad your hormones are today."

"Ooh..." Her eyes glint excitedly, opening the box and taking out the pair of designer sunglasses. "Michelle they're gorgeous."

"Yeah?"

"I love them." She admires, running her finger over the shape. "You know, this might be the first pair of sunglasses I've received for my birthday. It's never really the season for sunshine."

"Yeah well, I thought I'd buy you a new pair for Dubai." I grin as she leans over to kiss me appreciatively.

"You need to stop spoiling me." She taps my nose before placing them carefully back in the box.

"Never." I tuck a piece of hair behind her ear as she picks at a strawberry. "What do you want to do today?"

"Ooh, stay in bed." She yawns, hesitating before running her finger through the buttercream on the cake and licking it off. "Mm."

"Well that's ruined." I roll my eyes and she flashes me a cheeky smirk before dipping her finger into the icing again and dotting it on the end of my nose. I just sigh, not removing my annoyed gaze from her, which just prompts her to do it again, trailing buttercream down my cheek. "How old are you?"

"Eight, apparently." She sasses me, and I pull a face as I raise a hand to my sticky cheek. Once she lets out a soft giggle, I realise I'm not the slightest bit mad if it caused her amusement. "I love you."

"I love you."


Carla

"Are you sure we'll fit all the luggage in the back of Tim's cab?" Michelle asks as she pulls her suitcase up to the front door and I manage a smile from where I am trying to force a piece of toast down. Admittedly, the idea of traipsing around an airport all morning didn't feel appealing to me today. I felt sick, which was odd, because since hitting the second trimester my morning sickness had thankfully slowed down. Not only this, but my appetite had gone, which, considering how much I was eating nowadays, was definitely abnormal.

"I should've got that flu vaccine." Is all I say in response, giving up with the toast and dropping it back on my plate. "I think I'm coming down with something."

"Oh, really?" Michelle suddenly looks concerned, coming over to me and placing a hand to my forehead. "Maybe it's just an off day kidney-wise."

"I think I'm gonna be sick." I just walk past her, going to the bathroom and closing the door. Why today of all days, when we were supposed to be on our way to the airport in fifteen minutes? I just sit over the basin, nausea rising in me but nothing actually causing me to throw up. Giving up, I sit back against the bath, a dull cramp in my stomach making my heart beat faster. I wasn't doing this again. This was not happening again.

Michelle

Passports. Sunscreen. Tickets. Money. I check off my mental list, hearing a beep from downstairs to signal that Tim was here. "Be down in a minute!" I shout off the balcony, as he gives me a thumbs up from the cab. "Carla? We've gotta go sweetie. Are you still throwing up?" I call, grabbing my handbag and making sure I had my headphones for the plane. Having received no response, I knock on the bathroom door, listening intently against the wood. "Carla?" I begin to grow more concerned, relieved when the lock slides across and the door opens. But as soon as I see her face, I feel just as sick as she had described. "...What?"

"Michelle." Her voice is shaky, panicked, and I throw my bag down on the sofa, placing a hand to her cheek, waiting for answers. "I'm bleeding."