Hi guys! Sorry this chapter has taken me so long to write, I've had severe writer's block for a while and have just really not felt like writing about happy people (which is why Little Lady is easier for me to write at the moment, it's all dark and depressing!). I'm not pleased with how this chapter has turned out as it's a bit of a filler, but hopefully this'll get me back into writing again!

I also couldn't resist crowbarring a certain character into this, I feel like Carla desperately needs a friend at the moment and couldn't imagine her wanting anybody else by her side during pregnancy.

As always, thank you so much for your reviews, they mean a lot!

Carla really appreciated everything that Johnny was doing for her to keep her mind occupied. She did. But that afternoon, as she reluctantly made her way towards the Bistro for their arranged lunch date, she wished that she could occasionally have some time on her own to process everything that had been going on. Ever since Peter had been admitted to a detox facility a week prior, Johnny had made it his mission to fill every minute of Carla's day to prevent her worrying about the father of her child and how he was, and for the most part, Carla was grateful. She was well aware of the consequences of stress during her last pregnancy, and she lived in constant fear of the same happening again. But sometimes, Johnny took liberties. Like today, when he'd liaised with Nick behind her back to get her an extended lunch break, citing 'family difficulties' as an excuse. Really, she'd prefer to work through her lunch as she so often did, with Roy running in a sandwich and all but ramming it down her throat, as was a daily occurrence. Working had always been her go-to method of keeping her brain busy. When she was lost in figures or flirting with clients over the phone, thoughts of Peter alone and struggling, thoughts of the baby growing inside her that was depending on her to keep it healthy, still present in her mind but not constantly at the forefront.

But Johnny had insisted, so there she was at 12:30 sharp, pushing open the door of the Bistro and stepping inside the bustling restaurant, which was in the midst of the lunchtime rush. The familiar smell of cooking food filled her nostrils, and she felt fortunate that her morning sickness had started to fade as she was swiftly approaching the end of the first trimester of pregnancy. She spotted Johnny right away, sat at a table for two at the far side of the restaurant, phone in hand, so weaved between the other busy tables and over to him.

"So, congratulations, you won," Carla said, slipping into the chair opposite him and dropping her leather handbag onto the floor beside her, "You've managed to drag me here. What are you having? I'm starving." As she picked up one of the menus that were laid out in front of her to consult, Johnny suddenly rose to his feet, grabbing his jacket which was slung over the back of his chair. Carla frowned in confusion.

"I'm not having anything," he admitted as he slid the jacket on, giving a quick glance at something over the top of Carla's head and giving a small smile, "I'm not the one you're having lunch with." Carla raised her eyebrows.

"Johnny," she hissed, leaning across the table, "Do you really think this is the best time to be setting me up on a blind date?!"

"Oh, well, I wouldn't call it blind," came a sweet, familiar voice from behind her, "But I'll go on a date with you anytime." Carla span around so quickly in her seat that she almost fell off of it, met by the broad grin of her best friend. She'd lightened her hair, which was curled and fell long to her ribcage, her brown eyes framed by jet black eyeliner wings. Carla leapt to her feet, cupping her nose and mouth with her hands in surprise and shaking her head in disbelief.

"'Chelle…" she breathed, taking a step towards Michelle and wrapping her arms around her shoulders, giving her a tight, loving squeeze. She was overcome with a sense of relief, of comfort. Everything in her life was so uncertain: Peter's health, the paternity of her unborn baby, the state of her relationship, and it was good to have somebody in her life that she knew that she could rely on. She blinked away the tears that had begun to build up in her eyes, silently blaming the haywire hormones that coursed through her body. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Charming. You could have led with 'Hiya Michelle, I'm so happy to see you'," Michelle teased, pulling out of Carla's embrace to take her by her shoulders and getting a good look at her, "God, you look fantastic. Glowing."

"Keep your voice down," Carla whispered quickly, "You've got a mouth like a foghorn, you're worse than flamin' Jenny."

"I'll leave you girls to it," Johnny announced. Carla pressed her lips together and gave Johnny a small, knowing smile.

"Thank you," she said – she didn't need to offer anything more. Johnny nodded in return, pleased to have given his daughter something to finally be happy about, before brushing past Michelle and heading for the door of the restaurant.

"So, come on then." Michelle teetered around to the other side of the table and sat down in Johnny's former seat, clasping her hands together on top of the table in front of her and looking expectantly up at her friend. "Tell me everything. I want all the gory details."

"About what?"

"Adam. Peter."

"Ugh, 'Chelle…" Carla groaned, sinking back down into her seat, "We've gone through all that, I want to know about you. Why are you here?"

"Because I realised you were the love of my life and that I couldn't live without you," Michelle teased, prompting Carla to dramatically roll her eyes.

"You're such a wind-up."

"Sorry. No, the real answer is that I've spent over a year in Ireland now. There's only so much Helen Connor that a person can handle, even if she is my mum."

"I hear you on that one," Carla responded, a smirk playing on her lips at the thought of Michelle reverting to being a teenager and having her interfering mother commenting on her every move.

"So when I heard about that one…" Michelle glanced pointedly down at Carla's stomach and gave a subtle nod of her head, "Well, I haven't got owt in Ireland, have I? Here, there's Ryan, and you, and it means I can be there for you. I don't know how long I'll be staying, but I have no intention of rushing back. I've missed you." Carla smiled, full of inner warmth at her words, but was surprised to find that her vision blurred once again as a tear threatened to spill down her cheek.

"Nobody warns you about the daily emotional breakdowns, do they?" She sighed in frustration, quickly blinking away the tears and wiping a finger underneath each eye to ensure that there were no lingering smudges of eyeliner. "The morning sickness, the cravings, they're all well-advertised. Where's the magazine articles telling me how I'll burst into tears five times a day for no reason?"

"I suppose most other women don't have as much to deal with as you do," Michelle responded, sympathetically, "How is Peter?"

"A wreck," Carla scoffed, shaking her head slightly at the situation that she and the love of her life had found themselves in, "He's adamant he'll be out of the facility next week though. We've got the twelve-week scan."

"Very exciting."

"Very terrifying. I'll know for sure whether the baby's going to come out in a leather jacket or with a Scottish accent."

"Have you and Peter talked about what will happen if it isn't his?" Michelle asked tentatively. Carla shook her head.

"We're not together. We're still… He's still around to be the baby's father. If he's not… Then I guess he'll go." As she spoke the words that frequently swarmed around her brain out loud, she felt a lump forming in the back of her throat. The thought of Peter abandoning her, abandoning them, when he was the one person holding her together scared her.

"And Adam?"

"… I'll cross that bridge if and when it comes to it."

"You don't do things by halves, do you?" Michelle's tone was lighthearted, but she hated the situation that Carla had found herself in, and wished that there was something she could do to make it any easier for her. "Come on then. Decide what you're having; I'm not having Peter Barlow on my case for letting the mother of his child starve herself."

The two Connor women strode down the cobbles of Coronation Street towards Carla's beloved factory arm in arm, and for a while it was as though the last few turbulent years of their lives hadn't happened. They laughed about Michelle's tale of a night that Helen had caught her sneaking in after a hot date had ended very well for her, comparing it to the multitude of occasions where she'd been caught sneaking in after a night with Dean as a kid.

"'Ey, remember that time you didn't come home 'til the morning and you told her that you'd crashed at mine when I'd already been round knocking for you early hours?" Carla snorted, thinking back to the white lies they'd used to tell Michelle's mother.

"I remember the nights you used to bed-hop when Paul moved back in as well, you'd sneak into his room in the middle of the night and then come back into mine before Mum woke up!" Michelle chuckled, shaking her head at the memories of their antics, which had seemed so innocent at the time. "She weren't even any better with me after Ryan were born. It's like she believed he were some kind of immaculate conception and I was still her pure little daughter."

"Wonder what she'd think of me and my situation, 'ey? She'd think I were a right slapper."

"She already did." Carla grinned at Michelle's playful teasing, but as she lifted her head, her smile quickly faded as her eyes latched onto those of a man who was loitering around the doorstep of Number 8. He was dressed in his usual grey, expensive suit, always seeking to impress, though today his hair was tousled and evidently hadn't been styled, and his expression was grim. He continued to watch her, and Carla felt a shudder run down her spine which didn't go unnoticed by her friend. Michelle followed Carla's gaze and narrowed her eyes at Adam Barlow. "I could flippin' kill him."

"He's no worse than me."

"You were vulnerable, he took advantage."

"I wasn't, not really," Carla assured her, not blinking, continuing to hold Adam's stare. She wouldn't be the first to drop their eye contact. "I knew what I was doing. I pushed the self-destruct button again. But you know, one thing that I can't stand is the idea of him knowing about this baby and trying to force himself into our lives. It's mine and Peter's; I don't want it to have anything to do with him."

"Maybe you'll be lucky and he either won't care or won't have reason to."

"Maybe." Carla pathetically felt triumphant as Adam dropped his gaze and looked down at the floor. Bastard.

"Just don't let him ruin this pregnancy for you. You and Peter deserve this after everything you've been through," Michelle uttered, softly. Slowly, Carla nodded in response, and she allowed herself to smile again, pushing all thoughts of Adam and their sordid tryst out of her mind.

By the time ten o'clock rolled around, Carla felt completely drained of every ounce of energy she'd had. She'd spent lunch filling Michelle in on everything she wanted to know, about her night Adam, and her subsequent breakup with Peter. She'd then feigned listening to Michelle's numerous pregnancy tips; until she'd had a scan and seen that little baby on the screen in front of her, part of her refused to believed that she was actually going to be a mother. Even then, she didn't think that it would sink in. She was too scared to let herself start to look forward to the future after everything that had happened before. She'd returned to work for the afternoon, and had spent the evening at Ryan's flat having a takeaway. It was nice to be around her family again, familiar. It almost felt like old times. She'd offered Michelle the spare room at the Rovers, but Michelle was adamant that she was happy staying on Ryan's sofa for the time being, relishing the opportunity to spend more time with him.

So Carla had returned home alone. She'd said a quick hello to Johnny and Jenny, who'd been holding the fort behind the bar, before making her excuses and swiftly heading to bed. She'd developed a bit of an evening routine of late, snuggling down underneath her duvet and FaceTiming Peter before she went to sleep every night. It was therapeutic for both of them in a way. Although they weren't in a relationship, they were still each other's first thought in the morning, and the last thought before they fell asleep. Carla had a feeling that regardless of what happened with the baby, that fact wouldn't change. She tapped her phone impatiently, waiting for the familiar buzzing that filled her chest with excitement; eventually, it came. She slid her finger across the screen to answer it and balanced the phone against her upright thighs while she leant back against the pillow that she'd propped up on the headboard. The screen flickered to life, revealing Peter's gaunt yet smiling face, his skin tinged with yellow, his beard unshaven. Carla didn't care what he looked like. He was still her Peter, and his smile and the kindness in his chocolate eyes filled her with a love that she couldn't put into words.

"Hello, you," she greeted him, returning his smile with an equal one of her own.

"Hello yourself. How are you feeling?" Peter asked. That was typical for him, worrying about her before he could even begin to think of himself.

"The nausea has eased right off, thank goodness. I'm eating again – not that I've really had any choice in the matter, Johnny's been shoving a bacon roll down my throat every morning."

"Someone has to be keeping an eye on you while I'm not around."

"I can look after myself, you know."

"I know." Peter nodded, well aware of how strong the mother of his baby was, knowing she didn't really need him, or Johnny, or anybody else. "Tell me what else you've done today."

"Well, you'll never guess who's home."

"That creepy guy who runs the Bistro?"

"Michelle! She's back from Ireland, said she'd had enough of Helen whining at her every time she left the house," Carla informed him. It was nice to be filling Peter in on the ins and outs of her life. Making small talk with him and telling him all the gossip from the Street, which she'd started to do on a nightly basis, took her back to a time when they'd both been incredibly happy.

"That's brilliant, love. I'm glad you've got someone. How long's she staying for?"

"She doesn't know. Hopefully for good."

"It'd be nice for our little one to have another person in the family around to help out," Peter agreed, before adjusting the angle of his phone and bringing it a little bit closer to his face, "Can I see him?"

"It's not going to be a 'him'," Carla replied quickly, her lips curving up into a playful smile. They had this argument on almost a daily basis, even though neither of them actually cared what the gender of their baby was. All they wanted was for it to be born happy and healthy, but Carla enjoyed teasing Peter about the prospect of having two feisty women in his life. "You can see her." She pulled down the duvet, folding it across her legs which she straightened, and adjusted her position, lifting her shirt all the way up to just above her ribcage. It was his shirt, really. She'd borrowed it once to sleep in a long time ago when he'd had to spend the night away and had never given it back, loving the way that his cologne still clung to the fabric, and how it seemed to drown her in the material but still felt like a perfect fit. She flipped the view of the phone camera so that it was outward facing and focused it on her stomach, which still seemed to her to look completely flat. "There's not much to see."

"I can see it," Peter insisted, instantly feeling comforted to see a very slight, almost unnoticeable curve to Carla's stomach. It was only evident if it was being specifically looked for, and because Carla was so slim to begin with it had made little impact to her shape. "The baby's the size of a lime this week. And it's got fingers and toes now."

"Have you been on those parenting apps again?"

"Hey, don't knock them. They don't call me 'superdad' for nothing."

"If anyone calls you that, it's only because you've slipped them twenty quid," Carla teased, turning the camera back around so that her face filled the screen, though she kept her bare stomach exposed, resting the palm of her hand against it, instantly comforted by the thought of what was growing inside her.

"I miss you both, you know…" Peter admitted, solemnly. The idea of being back home with Carla and their baby, healthy and happy and with years of life left in him, was the only thing getting him through the torturous days at the detox facility. He hated it there, but knew that it was a necessary evil to ensure that he was there for as much of his baby's life as he could be. He couldn't stand the thought of it growing up not knowing him. Carla smiled faintly, desperately holding back the tears to avoid yet another emotional outburst. For a woman who vehemently hated crying, she was spending far too much time in floods of tears these days.

"I miss you, too," she replied, her voice scarcely more than a whisper, "We both do."

"I promise you I'll be out in time for the scan next week."

"Don't push yourself, Peter."

"No." Peter shook his head, and a determined expression crossed his features. "I missed it last time. I'm not doing that again. I promised you that I would be there for you through every step of the way, and I meant what I said." Carla could only nod, not trusting herself to try and form words without becoming choked up. "Get some sleep now, you need to keep yourself rested."

"Don't tell me what to do, you're as bad as Johnny."

"Johnny's a wise man. Goodnight, Carla. I l-… Sleep well." A warm blush filled Peter's cheeks at his slip of the tongue, the familiar words seeming to fall naturally from his lips. Carla's heart jolted, and she longed to hear those words in his voice, directed to her. She felt the same. She loved him. But she gave him a few seconds to add to his goodbye, and was disappointed to hear nothing.

"Goodnight, Peter," she responded, giving him a warm smile before reluctantly hanging up the phone and dropping it onto the bed beside her, leaving the unspoken words lingering in the air. She rolled over onto her side and tucked her arm underneath her pillow, bringing the duvet up to cover her body once again. Her eyes fell shut, and she willed her mind to quieten the thoughts that buzzed through her brain. I love you too.