Pushing the desk, I felt the muscles of my arms start to burn from the strain, not that I would let it stop me from rearranging my office. So far this morning, I've moved the cabinets, the sofa, the armchair and the coffee table but once my desk gets to where it needs to go, I'll be done and I can finally get back to doing some work. Not that I'm particularly interested or currently capable of doing what I'm supposed to be doing. 

Yesterday, I tried to focus on finding pieces for the next exhibition we're hosting but I kept getting distracted and the archives were giving me a headache. Since seeing Jasmine Gough and being taken aside by her on Tuesday, I've had Head in the Shed syndrome and haven't been able to function properly. It's honestly a miracle that I got out of bed and made my way into work because I can count the amount of hours' sleep I've had on one hand. I've been kept awake by thoughts of Jasmine.

With hindsight, I should have known that something was up when I arrived at Charlotte's baby shower. My sister-in-law, Sophie, was ignoring me and she's always been like a helicopter, hovering over me, making sure that I'm ok. Dan, meanwhile, is the total opposite of his wife. My brother normally gives me a wide berth and lets me get on with life as I feel fit but on Tuesday, he was like a shadow, just as our sister, Evie, was. Even Martha was constantly watching me, a pained expression on her face whenever she caught my eye. They must all have been in on the big secret otherwise they wouldn't have been acting so strange around me. 

They needn't have felt all too concerned about Jasmine reappearing, though. 

After the shock of seeing my ex-fiancée for the first time in months, I quickly realised that none of those feelings I once held for her existed any longer. They didn't linger. I used to be scared that would be lurking deep inside, biding their time before they stab me in the heart, but I was surprisingly ok with seeing her. 

Yes, my eyes lingered on her and it was nigh on impossible to take my gaze off her but in my defense, I find it difficult not to be struck when a beautiful woman walks into a room. To this day, I often do a double take when Charlotte enters a room but it means nothing. She's my best friend and as an art gallery owner, I'm attracted to beautiful things. That doesn't mean that I want to get back with Jasmine. 

Of course, she's beautiful. She wears her dark hair long with soft curls that draped over her shoulders and her green eyes still look hazel when the lights hit them just right. Her legs are as I remembered them- long and lean and perfectly showcased in a thigh skimming dress, a pair of heels making them look never ending. Her smile was ever present, as always, even though I got the feeling that it was often forced, like when she first met Martha. The only other time Jasmine ever looked that threatened and unsure was when a woman tried to chat me up at the Courtenay Foundation Ball last year. 

Despite all this, however, I found myself not really caring much for the fact that Jasmine was at the party. Sure, it was awkward at first but it wouldn't be; we hadn't seen each other since calling it quits and she was walking out the door, stealing the engagement ring that was a family heirloom. I later found out that she's given it to Sophie to return to my grandmother, but that's not the point. She left me and for a long time, I pined after her but I got over it. That in itself tells me all I need to know- Jasmine Gough was not the woman I was supposed to be with. 

If she were the right person, I wouldn't be here today. If I truly loved her and she left me, I wouldn't be able to live. I wouldn't be able to date. I wouldn't be able to get up out of bed in the morning. She would have ruined me for everyone that came after her. That's what having a great love does to you- they ruin you, whether you like it or not. So, yeah, Jasmine was not the one for me and I'm ok with knowing that. 

"Is this the male version of getting a haircut to get over a break up?" A curious voice inquired from the doorway. Looking over my shoulder, I see the very casually dressed Martha Fletcher watching me, her blue eyes narrowed, nose crinkled and mouth pursed in wonder. I could almost see the cogs turning in that pretty little head of hers as she surveyed my new office set up. "Why are you moving all your stuff around?" 

Turning my back on her, I give the large, heavy desk one last shove until I have it positioned where I want it. "I'm not moving all my stuff," I lie as I spin to face her. Truthfully, the only thing that remains in its original place is the floor rug and that's only because it won't fit length-ways in my office. Shrugging off Martha's disbelieving stare, I notice her holding a bag from La Petite in one of her tiny hands and a tray of coffees in the other. Mouth watering, I closed the gap between us and grabbed the bag that contained what I knew would be delicious sweet treats. "Have I ever told you that you are my favourite person ever?"

Plopping down on the sofa, I leave enough room for Martha to join me, although I can see from the way she lingers near the door how hesitant she is. Her eyes are still questioning me, almost like she's waiting for something to happen and not trusting what's in front of her. When I laugh to myself and shake my head at her, she lets out a long sigh and finally comes to sit next to me. She lifts her white Calvin Klein high top covered feet onto the chair, tucking them under her as she passes me one of the cardboard coffee cups. I take it gratefully and in return, I give her the dessert bag, minus a tarte au citron. 

"Are you going through a break up?" I ask Martha. Although it may seem random, it's a valid question to be asking. Yesterday, she took the day off because she needed a mental health day and today, she strolls back in with a good few inches of her hair missing. "I thought you and Nick were ok. What's the deal with that?"

"We're still ok," Martha said, although, from the tone she uses, I think she's trying to convince herself more than she's trying to convince me. Sipping on her hot drink- latte, her usual, probably- she lets her eyes drift across my office, scrunching her nose up at the way it now looks. "I wouldn't have put your desk there."

I frown. "There's nothing wrong with where it is."

"You can see my desk from there," Martha observes. 

Not knowing if that was true, I can't help but stand up and walk to my desk, standing where my chair would be. Martha was right, you could see her desk from here. "Like I said, nothing wrong with where it is," I tell her. When I retake my place next to her, she's wearing that cautious look on her features and I can't help but let out a long sigh. I know what she's thinking, what she wants to ask, and I decide to put us both out of our misery. "I'm alright, Martha, honestly. I don't get why everyone is so worried about me after Jasmine came back. People only need worry when I'm hitting the bottle like it's my new best friend, ok? I saw her, we talked, we went our separate ways. No big deal."

When Jasmine took me aside at the party, I could hear the whispers and feel everyone's eyes on us as I led Jasmine to the back garden. I knew she didn't really want a tour, despite that being her cover story, and instead, I sat on one of the patio steps and waited for her to speak. She has a nervous tick where she always opens and closes her mouth while clicking the joints of her fingers and after hearing the fifth crack, I reached out a hand and forced her to stop. Only then did she find the courage to speak. 

"I'm sorry I didn't try harder," she spoke softly. There was genuine sincerity in her words and I was taken aback by them. Never once in our relationship did she ever admit her wrongdoings; to hear them now blew my mind and my mind went to mush. "I realise now that I have to take part ownership for how we ended because I didn't fight hard enough for you, Sam. My relationship with your brother ruined what we had and I should never have let my dislike of him come between us. Only a silly girl would ever believe that you'd chose her over your family but I was that naive and for that, I'm sorry. I know you won't give me another chance."

She smiled sadly when I quirked an eyebrow at her. "Don't kid me, Sam. I know what you're like and I knew the second you saw me that whatever feelings you once had for me, they're gone." After inhaling a ragged breath, Jasmine wrapped her arms around her waist and turned away from me slightly. "That girl, Martha? What's the deal? Are you a thing? She's too young for you, Sam. She's probably not even good enough for you."

"Excuse me?" I practically shouted. In fact, I did shout. I was annoyed, you can't blame me. Standing abruptly, I walked to where Jasmine stood, grabbed her forearm and pulled her farther out into the garden, away from the open windows of the living room. I cast a watchful glance back at the house but didn't see any signs of us being watched. Suddenly, my blood boiled over. "Firstly, Martha and I are not a thing. Secondly, I'm eight years older than her, Jasmine, so thanks for the reminder that she's younger than me but I don't need you or anyone else to pass judgement on things like that. And lastly, as for her not being good enough for me? I vividly remember my brother saying the exact same thing about you."

Jasmine opened her mouth to speak but before a single sound passed her lips, I cut her off. "You know what, Jas?" I can't help but fall into the old habit of calling her by her nickname. Once the name came out, I mentally kicked myself. "You said that you didn't try hard enough and that you didn't fight hard enough, but you know what? I didn't want you to try harder, I didn't want you to fight harder, because I knew. I knew that we were done. How can you fall in love with someone in less than six months? How can you become engaged in less than six months? How do you know that you've found your forever in less than six months?"

"Sam-" Jasmine began, her voice unsteady, almost like she was going to crack. Suddenly, her tough exterior masked her real feelings and she was back to being the detached woman that I thought I was once in love with. "You know, Dan and Sophie fell in love in less time. Are you going to tell them that their relationship isn't forever?"

"See, that's the thing, Jasmine," I laughed bitterly. "They are forever. We weren't."

She slapped me after that. Then she stormed back indoors. 

When I returned to the party, Jasmine was joining in with the games Sophie had arranged and was laughing and smiling along, posing for photos and selfies. I, meanwhile, joined the men. They were all laughing, sharing jokes, and teasing Jimmy about how Team Delaney lost to Team Fletcher in a race. I was too caught up in their conversation to realise for a good half an hour that Martha had disappeared from the party. 

Swallowing the dessert I was eating, I turn to look at Martha, her newly short hair curtaining her face. I reached over and tucked the strands behind her ear, causing her to freeze and look over at me from the corner of her eye. "Where did you go?" I wondered. "At the party, when I came back in, you were gone."

"Oh, yeah, Moira was annoying Keira, dictating how Keira should behave and whatever, so we bailed," she explains. Her words sounded semi-truthful. I had no doubt that was the reason Keira left the party but it didn't explain why Martha left, too. "I heard that there were a few interesting names at the Suggestion Station."

The Suggestion Station was a game of sorts that Sophie had prepared for the baby shower guests. Each guest had to write a name suggestion for the baby, supplying one boy name and one girl name, although we weren't allowed to double up with the suggestions. 

"I don't think Charlotte is going to go with Samuel or Samuella any time soon, mind," Martha laughed at the names I had put forward. Her laugh was natural and melodic, a first for this afternoon. "Although I have to say, Ghislaine's suggestions were really sweet."

"What were they?" As the conversation became easier and it flowed naturally, I decided to put my feet up on the coffee table and sink lower into the sofa, getting comfier by the second. It was always like this when Martha and I hung out. "They weren't really hard to pronounce French names, were they?"

Martha tilts her head from side to side, trying to find a balance in her answer. "They were French but they weren't hard to pronounce. Estée for a girl and it means star. For a boy, she went with Maxence."

I scoffed at the suggestions. Mine were totally better than hers. "What names did you put forward? Bearing in mind that you already know whether  you're having a brother or sister."

"Actually, I went for some really nice names," Martha proudly announces. "I'm not telling you what they are though."

"Oh, go on," I prompt her. When she continues to refuse to tell me, I threaten to tickle the names from her. Martha laughed and told me to go ahead, it wouldn't be her fault when I get kicked in the gonads. "I'll take that risk. I'm pretty sure you'll cave before I get injured."

Without giving her much warning, I reached over and my fingers started to tickle her waist, eliciting a roar of laughter that quickly became hysterical. Martha was practically crying and hyperventilating within seconds, her hands clawing at mine to try and get me to stop. I had to dodge a few of her assaults until she finally screamed that she'd tell me what names she picked. 

"I hate you so much for this," she glared at me once she attempted to regain her composure. It took a few minutes but eventually I was greeted with the alarming sight of her beautiful vivid blue eyes, glistening  with happiness. "Alright, so for a girl I went for Seraphina because it's one Charlotte's mentioned before and I think it's super cute."

A minute passed without her telling me the boy's name she chose. "And if you get a brother? Or did you not think that far ahead because they baby is a girl?"

"Thomas. I picked Thomas."

"Cute name," I nod in approval. "Did you know that my first name is actually Thomas?"

Martha smiles. "Funnily enough, I did." Her gaze held mine for a few seconds before a slight blush crept up onto her cheeks and she turned her attention onto my half eaten tarte au citron. "Are you going to eat the rest of that?"

Hi, peeps.

Here's your update. From now on, we're going back to the 'normal' update days- Sunday and Wednesday. 

Firstly, Team Fletcher won the Change the Baby contest. 

Secondly, Jasmine and Sam were NEVER going to get back together, hence the chapter title.

Thirdly, is the Samartha story set up enough without it being too much? Their relationship is subtle but I like it. It feels more organic and as Sam said, you can't fall in love in less than six months so I'm planting the seed now.

I'm not really sure what else to say so I'm going to cut it short. 

Happy Friday for tomorrow (or perhaps today for some of you!)

See you on Sunday!

Sarah xx