"It's good news you know."

"Steve, its not that. Its the principle of the thing. Is this a mid life crisis?"

"Oh come on. This is the thanks I get for finally seeing sense and doing something mature?"

"Shut up. I'm serious. This is serious. Call her. Tell her. Now."

"Why all this sympathy for her by the way? I thought you hated her."

"I have to go. I have to pop in at work before catching my flight."

"Oh come along Jenny. Tell you what, lets go out for dinner and then we can talk about this tomorrow."

"Don't come along me, Steve Lidgow."

She shot me a dirty look through her pretty violet eyes (they still looked pretty after all these years) and slammed the door behind her.

It was one of those days - cool, overcast with a slight chill that challenges you to wear just a flannel shirt and go for a jog. Windows still dewy at 2 in the afternoon. Duvet clad, and mighty glad, I pulled out one of the sweet babies Dave had given me for my anniversary and lit up. Looked out of the fifth floor ceiling-to-floor window beside my bed.

Yes, Steve, this was a good good day. A day when I was taking it off from work after a fantastic financial year.

A day for reflection, for knowing that for once, you had turned around at the monster of circumstance that zealously insisted on shadowing you every time you decided to start some life changing plan, looked it in the eye and said, "Look here you. That's it. Smack!"

A day for patting yourself for not letting life get to you.

A day for .. hm...maybe even a day to go to that gym that sucks up 1/30 of my salary every month. A man of my recently acquired new role should go to the gym. Be fit. He needs to be. If he wants to fulfil that role. Which, now that I had finally got myself to want that role, and found a way to get it, I wanted to.

Jenny would come around. She always had. Since college, despite several..um..interruptions, they had always been best of friends. And more.

Actually, why not act on Jenny's advice. She might not be half wrong, the sassy thing. He'd show Jenny he wasn't as much of a dimwit as she thought..

Hm. Cigar in hand, he lifted the handset and dialled his personal assistant.

"Erma, I need to book a flight to where Mrs. Lidgow is heading."

"Absolutely Sir. Giving the Missus a surprise by greeting her on the trip?"

"Well kind of. You remember those medical tests I asked you to pick up?"

"Yes."

"My wife, Erma, is pregnant. Only she doesn't know it yet."

"I'm sorry Sir I'm not quite sure what you...."

"Placebos Erma. Instead of her birth control pills. I'm 45, and I think she may have been right all these years. I want - nay, need - offspring to carry on the Lidgow legacy of fantasticity."

Silence on the other end.

"Of course Sir. I'm sure Mrs. Lidgow will be delighted. I'll have the flights booked at once. You will reach 12 hours after she lands. Will you need a hotel booked?"

Nope. I'm gonna be staying with her. What's that room she insisted on booking from here - something on the fourth floor in Grand Hyatt?"

"Yes Sir. Room 403. I'll arrange the taxi. And I can cancel your appointment with Ms. Jenny's after she returns from her trip tomorrow, I presume?"

"Cancel it all, ol girl. Its just me and Mrs. Lidgow now.  Erma, you know I can't wait to see her face when I tell her the news."

"I'm sure it'll be quite an eventful trip, Sir."

(This is a follow up post to Home Sweet Home)