Page 31 of You Were Always the One

I gaze at her. ‘This isn’t right, Emma. We’re still legally married. Don’t you think we can work through this?’

‘We can’t, though, can we?’ There are tears in her eyes. ‘Our marriage is over. We want different things.’ A tear spills over, then rolls down her cheek. ‘We need to get this behind us, so that we can get on with the rest of our lives.’

It seems there’s nothing I can say to change her mind. I walk with her to the door. ‘If you want to talk again, you know where I am.’

‘Thanks.’ But her eyes are dull as she goes outside and I close the door behind her.

For two very odd days, I don’t hear a word from Emma. When I try to call her, she doesn’t pick up. But I’m guessing she feels as I do: that when she’s made her decision about ending her pregnancy, there isn’t really anything to say.

It’s like I’m caught in an impossible dilemma. Yes, I want Emma and me to have our baby, and yes, there’s a part of me that can’t give up on Holly. Do I want to be with Emma? And here’s the problem. If I’m honest with myself, not as much as I want to be with Holly. But Holly’s with someone else. Plus if it meant Emma would have our baby… That would throw a different light on everything.

Is it even possible to share a life when there is no love? We share the platonic kind, but these days, that’s all there is between us. I have all the proof I need of that, in the things Emma and I don’t say; our mutual silence speaks volumes about us, whereas if I loved her, I’d be messaging her, constantly. Telling her we’ll work this out. That marriages have blips – it doesn’t have to be the end. That we could be wonderful parents; this baby could be the best thing to happen in our lives.

And that’s the brain-fuck, because it’s how a part of me feels. It isn’t like the baby has a say in this. It’s just a helpless little being caught up in the mess of us.

Then I’m back to where I was before we agreed to divorce. If Emma wasn’t pregnant, what would I want? But I already know it wouldn’t change our decision. I want someone whose heart aligns with mine. Who wants the same things. And the last few weeks and months have shown me that person isn’t Emma. But while Holly and I have something Emma and I have never had, Emma is carrying another life. It puts a different slant on absolutely everything.

It’s all so complicated; it could have been so much simpler, if Holly hadn’t left me. But if only I could have given her what she’d needed, maybe she wouldn’t have.

TWENTY YEARS AGO

Skye missed her ferry. As she said: ‘It’s just a ferry. There will be plenty more.’

Such was the joy of not having rigid plans; of having the freedom to go with the flow. From Corfu, we flew to Rome, where Skye worked in a small family run hotel on the outskirts. I, meanwhile, wrote travel pieces, most of which never saw the light of day, while a few brought in enough money to fund my modest living expenses.

And in between, we wandered the quieter streets. Got up at dawn, saw the historic sights as the sun rose. Ate far too much pasta, drank Italian wine. But a part of me was craving the space of wide beaches or open countryside.

After a surprisingly large payment for a piece I’d written, I presented Skye with two tickets.

Her eyes widened. ‘Morocco?’ She stared at them. Then a smile spread across her beautiful face.

Morocco was a country of contrasts, we soon discovered. We lost ourselves in the craziness of Marrakech. Lived in the same old faded shorts and T-shirts. Then when we’d had enough, we escaped to the tree-clad slopes and crystal-clear streams of the Atlas Mountains. By day, we explored the winding roads and tiny villages. By night, we gazed, awestruck, at the darkest sky I’d ever seen.

‘Don’t you ever wonder why we’re here?’ On the roof of the old Land Rover we’d hired, Skye and I lay side by side, gazing at the heavens that positively glittered with billions of stars.

‘Often,’ I said quietly. Though I could understand why Skye was here. She exuded something. A kind of light, was how I thought of it. But as for me…

‘We’re lucky, aren’t we?’ she murmured, her hand finding its way into mine.

‘So lucky.’ I turned my head, kissing her somewhere behind her ear.

Then she pulled her hand away. ‘Look!’ She pointed towards a shooting star. And it was just the start. As we lay there, it was like watching our own celestial light show.

In that moment, I realised just how lucky I was. Seeing this. Feeling the way we did. Sharing this sense of awe with someone else who just got it. I was realising, too, that this went way beyond anything I’d known before. Not only was she my best friend and the love of my life, Skye was my soulmate.

I wanted this time to never end, daring to dream that we could live like this. Nomadically; simply. Making enough to live on, sating our thirst to see more of the world.

‘Weird, isn’t it?’ she said one day. ‘Not having any responsibilities.’

‘It’s how it should be,’ I said firmly. ‘If you ask me, people make their lives far too complicated.’

‘Monty?’ Skye hesitated. ‘What if we wanted to buy a house?’

I shrugged. ‘Why would we?’ It was fine if you were someone who wanted to stay in one place. But otherwise, a mortgage was a trap, the way I saw it.

‘Maybe not now. But at some point.’ There was something in her voice that made me frown.

‘Hey,’ I said. ‘This is time to make the most of – you said yourself that it won’t always be possible to live like this.’