Heaving myself into the car, I could smell Chinese takeaway... My eyes must have been like saucers, as my fiance Michael, 33, took one look at me and burst out laughing.
‘It’s not for you,’ he grinned, starting the car.
‘Not even for him?’ I winked, stroking my massive baby bump. He shook his head.
By day, Michael was a courier. But by night, he delivered takeaways in the local area. Tonight, I’d begged to come along.
A week overdue, I hadn’t wanted to be alone.
Our girls Leah, 13, and Georgia, 3, were with their granny Lorraine.
As we dropped off orders, I felt a twinge in my back and let out a groan. Michael spun round, eyebrows shooting up.
‘You might be delivering your boy tonight,’ I ribbed.…
