Baby Be Mine

white concrete, two-storey architectural masterpiece and feel slightly breathless.
    I flashback to the first time I was here . . . The enormous front door swung open to reveal a short, plump, pleasantly smiling Hispanic-looking woman. Rosa. It’s not going to be the same here without her.
    Davey takes me to the front door with our suitcases and presses the buzzer. As butterflies swarm around my stomach I realise I feel almost as nervous as I did three years ago. Who’s going to open the door? The new cook? Lena? Dana? I hope not Dana – I’m not ready for that yet. I jig Barney up and down in my arms and try to channel my nerves into excitement. It doesn’t work.
    There’s a click behind the door and it starts to open. I’m holding my breath, and then suddenly I’m face to face with Johnny and my face breaks into a smile.
    ‘Hey!’ he exclaims, patting me with affection on my back and then opening his arms to Barney. I pass him over, stupidly delighted that he’s here to welcome us. I feel like I need familiar right now. ‘You can put those up in her room,’ Johnny says to Davey, leading the way inside. He’s wearing a long-sleeved white shirt with dark-grey Bermuda shorts and bare feet.
    I follow him into the living room and halt in my tracks, even though I’ve seen this view hundreds of times. Floor-to-ceiling windows look out onto the city of LA in the distance, and before that is a beautiful infinity pool, far more spectacular than the one in Barcelona with Bess.
    Aah, Bess. She went nuts when I told her. We spoke on the phone last week . . .
    ‘How are you?’
    ‘Pretty damn good,’ I replied with a smile.
    ‘What’s happened?’ she asked drily.
    ‘Johnny’s asked us to go to LA with him.’
    ‘WHAT?’
    ‘Not like that, you ninny,’ I said flippantly. ‘As friends. As the mother of his child. He wants to spend more time with Barney and I just thought, why the hell not?’
    ‘I’ll tell you why not.’ She cut straight to the chase. ‘Because you fell madly in love with him and went to hell and back!’
    ‘That’s not going to happen again,’ I said patiently.
    ‘How on earth would you know?’ she exclaimed.
    ‘Because I’m different now. I won’t let myself get into a situation like that ever again.’
    ‘It’s not up to you!’ she squawked. ‘It’s up to your bloody heart! That’s the problem.’
    Anyway . . . She’ll get over it.
    ‘Where’s Dana?’ I ask.
    ‘She’s coming over this afty. Giving you time to settle in before she descends.’ He winks at me.
    I force a smile. ‘How is she?’
    ‘Fine,’ he says with a shrug.
    ‘Did she relapse?’
    ‘Nah.’ He shakes his head. ‘Relax, babe,’ he says annoyingly.
    ‘Don’t call me babe.’
    ‘Don’t call me babe, don’t call me Nutmeg . . .’ he teases in a sing-song voice. ‘Jesus, what can I call you?’
    ‘Meg would be a good start. Mummy will also do.’ I try to keep a straight face as I look at Barney in his arms.
    ‘Hello!’
    At the sound of a voice, I turn around to see a tall, tanned woman with dark blonde hair coming into the living room from the direction of the office.
    ‘Aah, Lena,’ Johnny says. ‘Come and meet Meg.’
    ‘We meet at last,’ she says with a smile, walking towards me with her hand extended. She has an accent. I think I remember Christian once saying she was from Holland.
    ‘Hi!’ I falter before smiling back and shaking her hand. She’s unnervingly stunning. Her eyes are green, almost as green as Johnny’s, and her hair is straight and falls to just below her chin. She’s taller than me – I would guess five foot nine without her heels on – and she looks like she’s in her late twenties, early thirties. She actually resembles Johnny in an uncanny way – she could almost be his sister.
    ‘I can’t believe you’re finally here!’ She smiles warmly and folds her arms in front of herself, casually rocking back on her heels.
    ‘Neither can I,’ I reply, shifting from foot to foot. She seems nice, even if she is far too beautiful to be human.
    ‘And you must be Barney!’ She reaches over and pinches one of his chubby cheeks between her thumb and forefinger. He smiles back at her before holding his arms out to me. I take him from Johnny and he nestles into my neck, shyly, before peeking back out at her again.
    ‘We have lots to talk about,’ she says to me. ‘But right now I imagine you just want to sit down with a – what do they say in England?