Page 84 of All Our Missing Pieces

Tiredness and pride shone out of him. I ached with love for him and sadness at what I was about to do.

‘Is she still there, in the hospital?’ I asked.

He nodded. ‘They still need to do some checks, but they should be okay to go home tomorrow. Rachel’s mum wanted her to go back to hers for a couple of days but she wants to go back to her flat because all the baby stuff’s there. I said I’d go there in the morning and help. Apparently I need to figure out how the car seat works – my first dad job.’

‘Beats changing nappies,’ I said.

‘Oh, I’ve already done that.’ He grinned.

‘Wow. Hands on, or what?’

‘I know, right? God, he’s adorable though, Liv. His little hands. And he’s got a good pair of lungs on him. I can’t believe someone so small can make that much noise.’

I listened to him, the pleasure and enthusiasm in his voice just the same as when he talked about some breakthrough he’d made on the house, or a painting he’d finished. But those were achievements I’d been able to share with him, triumphs I’d experienced at first hand. This was different. What had happened in that hospital had created a distance between us that hadn’t been there before; the arrival of this new life marked the end of our old one.

No matter how much Luke intended that not to be the case, it was – and there was nothing either of us could do to change it.

‘Maybe in a few days you can meet him,’ he said tentatively. ‘I said, when Rachel feels ready, I’d like to take him out for a walk in his buggy, show him the world, while she gets some rest. If she’s okay with it, you could come.’

‘Luke,’ I said, as gently as I could, forcing the words past the lump in my throat. ‘I don’t think I’m going to do that.’

‘Why? I mean – okay, I guess it might be a bit weird. But later on, when you’re ready. Only they change so much, so quickly, Rachel’s mum says. Literally from one day to the next.’

Like everything else, I thought.

I said, ‘Luke, there’s something I need to tell you.’

He literally winced, then looked horrified, and I realised how badly I’d messed up.

I couldn’t help laughing. ‘It’s not that. Don’t panic. One baby is great, but another would be a bit much, right? I’m not pregnant.’

‘Thank God.’ He laughed as well, a bit shakily. ‘I know you didn’t mean to but you had me there for a second. What is it? Is everything okay?’

‘I’m okay,’ I reassured him. ‘But us – I’m so sorry, but I don’t think this is going to work.’

‘What? Liv, what are you saying? I know I haven’t been focused enough on you. I’m sorry. But I love you. The way I love Charlie – it’s completely different. It doesn’t mean anything in terms of us.’

‘It does, though.’ I reached out and took his hands. ‘I can tell how much being a dad means to you. And you’re right – it should. But I can’t be part of it. I’m not ready. I don’t want to be.’

‘Then don’t.’ His hands in mine had gone still – he didn’t pull away, but I could tell he wanted to. ‘It’s fine. You don’t have to meet him, ever, if you don’t want to. It doesn’t have to change things between us.’

‘It would, though. It already has. You’re a father now, Luke. That’s a massive change – it hasn’t just changed your life; it’s changed you. And it should. I admire what you’re doing – I really do.’

‘You just don’t want to be with me while I’m doing it.’ Now he did pull his hands away.

With a lump in my throat, I said, ‘That’s right. I don’t. I think you need to focus on Charlie, and I know if you did that, I’d end up resenting you for it. And that’s not fair – it’s not right. I’d end up hating you and you’d end up hating me.’

‘I could never hate you.’

I wouldn’t bet on it. Already, I could see anger in his face, alongside hurt. I had wanted to keep my own expression calm but I could feel my lips twisting into the grimace of a sad clown as I fought back my tears.

‘It’s just not going to work,’ I said again.

‘Liv, this is bullshit. I thought we had something special together.’

I felt my hands reach out for his as if he was the only thing saving me from drowning, but I forced myself to pull them back.

‘Me too,’ I said. ‘But I don’t want to be a stepmother. Not now and probably not ever.’