I was hoping that once I was out of the first trimester and safely in the second, that the morning sickness, the fatigue and the mood swings would subside but so far, none of that was happening. Yes, the sickness had lessened, coming and going whenever a smell overwhelmed me, and I was finally able to focus more at work and to an extent, I wasn't bursting into tears over really stupid stuff, yet I didn't feel entirely like my old self. Then again, I don't think I'd ever feel like that again because now I was a completely different person. 

My protruding stomach is evidence enough of that. For twelve weeks, I was waiting for the most obvious sign of my pregnancy to develop, constantly checking my side profile in the mirror and patting my abdomen to check for any changes. Nothing. Then suddenly, my belly popped and I finally had a bump to show off. 

This did, however, present me with a slight problem. As I hadn't gained much weight during the first twelve weeks, I had remained a svelte size eight and could still fit into my pre-pregnancy clothes. Now, however, my skinny jeans were a little too skinny and barely stretched over my stomach. 

Observing this at seven in the morning, I simply took my jeans off and set them aside, preferring to wear a dress that skimmed over my bump. Admiring my new figure, I patted a hand over my abdomen and beamed at my reflection, proud of how nature was taking its course.

"You look happy," my youngest waitress at La Petite Pâtisserie, Aimee, noted within a few minutes of my eventual arrival at the shop. She stopped her duties to really look at me and frowned. "You're glowing. Oh, my God! Did you have sex? Is this the post-sex glow?"

I shake my head in amusement at how animated she is, knowing full well that she'll be even more excited once she knows the truth. "Funny," I couldn't help but mutter as I rolled my eyes. Taking a look around the shop, I see that it's rather quiet now that the morning rush hour is over and knowing that we were working with a full team today, I decided now would be the perfect time to call a brief staff meeting. "Aimee, call everyone into the kitchen. I need to speak with you all."

Now that all my family knew of my pregnancy and we were passed the twelve-week stage, Isaac and I decided that we'd start telling other friends and colleagues about the baby, as well as Isaac having to prepare to tell his family. 

I'd asked when he'd do this but Isaac just shook his shoulder and then started to talk about how he and the other men in my family- namely Dad, Lucas, and my two brother-in-laws- had arranged a boys weekend away so that they could all get to know each other. My first instinct upon hearing that was that the weekend away was not going to be a get-to-know-each-other holiday but rather a hazing for Isaac. He should have known that from what the guys did to Daniel on his second stag party, but that was neither here nor there. 

Secondly, what struck me most about Isaac's evasion was his lack of forthcoming over his family. Apart from the fact that I knew Isaac has a daughter, Martha, and that I'd met his younger sister, Alice, at Daniel and Sophie's wedding, I knew very little about Isaac's family. His mother was English, I think, and his father is Australian but I knew nothing else about them. Were they still married? Were they still alive, even? Did he have any more siblings? What about his grandparents? If I was right and his mother is English, then did he have any family in this country? He must do. 

I made a mental note to ask him all this later on when I finally go over to his place. That was another thing, too! I've never been to his house. Or his flat. Or his hovel. See, I don't even know where he lives! I mean, he lives in Chelsea, but other than that, it was a mystery. 

"Hey, boss," Nate greeted me as soon as I walked into the kitchen, Aimee and Joanne hot on my heels. Arnaud looked up from his tartelette and gave me his quintessential nod of the head before turning back to his task. Nate, I noticed, perked up at seeing Lauren enter the kitchen. "Uh, hi, Lauren?"

I rolled my eyes at how boyish Nate becomes whenever Lauren is around and decided to question him about the state of their relationship when I get the chance. If these two don't get together soon, I think I may just sack the both of them so I don't have to put up with their awkward flirting. 

"Morning, Nate," Lauren smiled at him coquettishly. She blushed under his stare and purposely ignored the amused glances of Aimee and Joanne. Instead, she turned to me. "You summoned us, Charlotte? Is this because of that American that's been sniffing around? Did you decide to sell?"

I shake my head. "No, it has nothing to do with that," I promised them. Clark Reiss, the American that had been sniffing around wanting to buy my business, has been missing in action for the past God knows how many weeks and I for one, am not complaining. "Anyway, I am not, nor will I ever, sell La Petite Pâtisserie."

"Alors, que se passe-t-il?" Arnaud's French accent chimed in. If it was at all possible, he sounded more bored than usual. "Pourquoi avez-vous besoin de nous parler?"

"Right," I say loudly, clapping my hands. "I'm pregnant."

Five sets of eyes blinked at me. Miraculously, Arnaud was showing some sort of emotion, even if it was shock and confusion that mimicked everyone else's reaction. Aimee was frowning at me while Nate and Lauren opened their mouths to speak but ultimately decided against speaking. Joanne, meanwhile, gawked at me before exclaiming, "I knew it!"

"What do you mean?" Lauren whipped her head around to stare at her friend. "Why didn't you tell me that you suspected that she was pregnant?" 

"Because it wasn't my place to say," Joanne defended herself. Ignoring the continued stare of her friend, she turned back to me and smiled warmly. "Congratulations, Charlotte. That's wonderful news."

"Bien sur, je suis d'accord avec Joanne," Arnaud stated. "Mais, qui est le père?"

When I was confronted about the paternity of my baby, I wasn't sure how to broach the subject. With my family, it had been rather easy, but with my colleagues, it was far harder than I'd imagined. Still, Isaac's name slipped from my lips easily which, for some bizarre reason, garnered a better reaction than my first announcement. Aimee, Joanne and Lauren kept screaming that the baby was going to be utterly gorgeous thanks to Isaac's genes while Nate was thanking all the heavens that Isaac was now 'off the market.' Arnaud snorted at hearing my baby's father's name and quickly went back to the tartelette. 

Finally having enough of hearing the women's squeals, I excuse myself from the kitchen and take control of the unmanned shop front, serving a handful of customers. Ten minutes later, my staff appear from the kitchen, a plate in Aimee's hands that they walk in my direction. Two macarons- one pink, one blue- take pride of place on the plate and the word 'CONGRATS' was written in chocolate on the side. 

"We're thrilled fro you, boss," Nate said as he nudged Aimee forward. "Your macaron craving is suddenly making sense now."

With the staff now back in their posts, I retreated to my office to catch up with some paperwork that I'd been avoiding. I paid the bills, put in orders for ingredients that Nate and Arnaud had been begging for, reshuffled the staffing rota so that everyone knew when they'd be working for the next few weeks and finally ordered a new staff uniform for Nate, with the words Sous Chef Pâtissier written on the left breast. Arnaud had been badgering me for weeks to finally promote Nate now that Nate had met all of Arnaud's tough second-in-command criteria.

Finally, with everything running smoothly and the staff knowing what they needed to do, I ducked out early in the afternoon to go and meet my mother for some retail therapy. Heading towards Kensington, I sent my mother a text to let her know that I was on my way and quickly flagged down a taxi. 

We met at Séraphine, a maternity shop that had dressed countless celebrities as well as Royals. Mum's excitement was palpable as she picked out outfit after outfit, throwing the items into the waiting arms of a poor shop assistant. I was pretty sure that I wouldn't need all those dresses, shirt and jeans but I didn't have the heart to tell Mum that. 

"Oh, my days, mother," a familiar voice shrieked from behind me. It was a voice that I was more than familiar with. Sauntering forward in her pencil skirt and blouse combo, Sophie waved her hand to shoo away the assistant that's been trailing me for God knows how long and promptly told our mother to take a seat. With Mum out of the way, Sophie began to inspect some of the outfits the store had and cast her opinions on each item. A navy dot dress caught her eye and she pulled it from the rack, handing it to me. "Flats during the day, heels during the night. Two dresses in one. Perfect."

Five dresses, two skirts, a pair of shorts, eight tops, four pairs of jeans, a jumper, jacket and coat, and a few sets of pyjamas later, I was finally free from the torture that is shopping with Sophie Whitaker. Honestly, I love my sister, but an afternoon of retail therapy was a step too far in our relationship.

"What are you doing for the rest of today?" Sophie asked as soon as we were back out on the streets of London.

"I'm going over to Isaac's," I answer. Loading the bags into the boot of Mum's Chelsea Tractor- otherwise known as a Range Rover- I was grateful that I wouldn't have to navigate the Tube or a taxi with all my bags. "Not that I actually know where he lives. Do you know where he lives?"

Sophie frowned. "Who the heck is Isaac?"

"Isaac. Fletcher." When Sophie continued to stare at me in confusion, I point to my swollen stomach and say, "Baby Daddy."

"Oh! Him!" Sophie loudly exclaims. "Sorry, Daniel and everyone else calls him Fletch so it threw me a little. Yeah, no. No idea where he lives. Let me know once you find out so I can go over and spraypaint his door."

"Excuse me?"

"Long story," Sophie laughs off her threat. She raises her hand and waves at me as she quickly backs away. "Have fun."

Not caring enough to truly probe her, I let Sophie vanish in amongst the London crowd while I hitched a ride home with Mum. I dashed inside, dropped off my new purchases, said a quick 'hi' and 'bye' to Sam and then rushed out the door as I  made my way to Isaac's residence. I followed the instructions perfectly until I found myself at the Thames riverside. Looking south of the river, I couldn't work out where I needed to go. The instructions mysteriously ended here.

"Hey, Lottie," Isaac's smooth voice travelled down the line when he answered my call to him. "You ok?"

"I think I'm lost," I admit. "I followed your instructions but I think I may have taken a wrong turn or something somewhere."

"Hold tight," Isaac laughs. "I'll come find you."

Hanging around, I waited for Isaac to come and meet me. Five minutes later, a casually dressed Australian Greek God sauntered towards me, sending me an amused smile. "I think you made it here alright," Isaac mused. "Come on, let's get you inside."

Isaac doesn't live in a house. Nor does he live in a flat. Oh no, the father of my child lives in a boat. A houseboat, to be exact. On a river. The Thames. Isaac Fletcher lives on a houseboat on the River Thames. 

"Not what you were expecting, huh?" Isaac asked when he noticed my slack jaw. He hands me a glass of water and cocks an eyebrow at me. "It's alright, no one ever guesses right. So, from your message last night, I take it that you have a few questions to ask me. You ask, I'll cook. Shoot."

While I had a few things I needed to square with Isaac, I found myself utterly mesmerised by how he moved in the kitchen. He knew where everything was and whatever he was cooking, he was more than familiar with the recipe. He threw a handful of this in the pan, a handful of that, a spoonful of one thing and spoonful of another. Whatever he was doing, it certainly created a mouthwatering aroma. 

"Lottie, are you asking or just going to stare at me all night?"

"Both," I answer, not really paying attention to the words that slipped from my lips. Catching my slip up, I quickly mask the quip with a laugh and proceed to ask the first question on my lips. "What's your family situation like? I've met your sister, Alice, but you don't say much about anyone else. And by 'not much,' I mean that you don't say a thing about them."

Isaac nods thoughtfully. "My mother, Dita, is English and my father, Darius, is Aussie, through and through," he explains as he transfers his concoction into an overproof dish. Once everything is cooking, Isaac grabs his drink and joins me at the kitchen counter. "My parents married very young because Mum got pregnant with me during her gap year. Then when I was in my teens, my parents had twins, Alice and May. I have one set of grandparents down in Cornwall and my father's parents live in Hobart, Tasmania. Next question."

"Have you told your family about this?" I motion my hand between us.

Isaac shakes his head. "Not yet. My family tend to come over and spend Easter here with me so I was planning on telling them in the next week or two," he explains. "Plus, Martha will be here and I need to tell her this in person. I'm not sure how she's going to react. She'll either be ecstatic or really peeved. Anything else?" 

"Not really. I didn't actually think you'd answer my first two questions let alone allow me to ask you more," I tell Isaac as I watch his casual demeanour relax even more. "I mean, you're always so closed off and... I don't know. You're just so-"

"Detached?"

I nod. "Well, yeah. You're not easy to get to know on a deeper level. Telling me that you like Toy Story isn't the same as you opening up to me."

"Well, then," Isaac smiles at me. "Choose your questions wisely. Then we'll see if I trust you enough to open up to you."

Ok, so Isaac has two sister- TWINS. 

He lives on a houseboat, like the one below. Did any of you ever guess that? It seems as if our little Isaac is very unpredictable! What other surprises are there?!

And he's totally willing to let Charlotte in. 

Hi, as well, to Sophie who made a cameo appearance!

Have an amazing week, everyone!

Sarah, xx