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She could have tried to contact Simone. There were several avenues she chose not to go down.
‘What were you so afraid of?’ I ask.
Her skin pales. ‘You have a lot more to offer him than I do.’
‘You’re his mother.’
‘That doesn’t always mean much.’
An element in her voice makes me wince. ‘Do you struggle to accept help from anyone?’
‘I took help from Romy.’
Minimal help that she paid back by working for her—making cakes and coffee. ‘But you won’t take it from me.’
‘There are other complications between us.’
My gut twists. I’m tempted to sort those other complications out. I can’t help wondering if there was any other man in her life after me. I shouldn’t be thinking on it. I’m hardly about to tell her I’ve been celibate since sleeping with her. Besides, I have the feeling she won’t believe me.
Too late I realise my glib display of outrageous wealth has backfired. If I make a move on her now she might not feel able to say no. She might think I’ve bought her. That’s just ick. I was so determined to be flippant. To prove nothing’s a problem. No demand too outrageous. I didn’t think through the implications.
I can’t allow her to kiss me as some kind of repayment. But all I want right now are her kisses. And isn’t this just the way it is with Talia? Contrary. Confounding. My muscles bunch and twitch. I just want to tear her clothes away. Mine too.
It’s a relief to hear Lukas’s cry coming from the nursery.
I go to him immediately. I croon ridiculously as I pick him up and try to soothe him. I turn about the room and see she’s followed and is watching me. The look in her eyes isn’t worry. It’s heat. She can’t stop looking. Despite my edginess I keep talking nonsense to Lukas to keep him settled because to my amazement it seems to be working. There’s a feeling I just don’t recognise in myself when I look at him and even more when I then look at her. It’s absolute awe. I glance to the ceiling and pull in a steadying breath.
‘Oh!’ Talia all but squeals.
‘What?’ I whip to look at her but she’s staring in rapture at Lukas.
‘He’s smiling!’ she says.
She’s smiling too and she’s beautiful and now I don’t know where to look. I’m torn between the two of them.
‘And?’ I mutter weakly.
‘He hasn’t smiled before. This is his first smile.’
‘Really?’ I look back at Lukas then back at her and back again, and again.
‘First social smile.’ She nods. ‘Happens between eight and twelve weeks and here he is...smiling at you.’
There are tears in her eyes and she’s so effervescent there’s no way she’s faking this. I talk more nonsense to Lukas because it just bubbles out of me and he smiles again and Talia beams.
A chuckle escapes me. I want to do anything. Everything. I feel utterly alive—I want to keep them both with me and have them happy but in the same breath I feel a sudden helpless futility. Because this is something I can’t ensure. I couldn’t help my parents’ happiness. Nor my grandfather’s. I don’t think I can do happy families. It goes wrong—it never lasts.
But I’m beginning to get her. She’s done everything for herself—and her sister—for years. She’s so determinedly independent I know the reasons why she doesn’t want to rely on anyone are deep-seated. She’s been let down before.
So I’ll try to do whatever it takes to make sure she can’t walk out on me again. Because I want this to work for Lukas. Somehow I need her to trust me. I need her to talk to me. Talia’s withholding of information wasn’t just about protecting Ava. It was about protecting herself too. Because people are selfish. They do things for their own reasons. Me included.
We sit together on the floor. Lukas is stretched out between us and we each have a toy in hand—waving them in front of him to tease another smile. The rabbit I’m holding is old. One of its ears is at risk of spontaneously severing. Possibly its head too. It’s surprisingly easy to sit here with her. It reminds me of those tragic jokes we shared when we were in the gondola.
‘Do you have siblings?’ she suddenly asks.
‘Time to swap life stories?’ I shoot her a sardonic look.
Her shoulder lifts—half apology, half amusement.
