She’d been equal parts frustrated and flattered. And she’d also made the mistake of sharing the exchange with Adrienne, which accounted for the raised eyebrow earned by Melissa’s attempted dismissal of the notion that Damon still held a torch for her. Melissa could only look away.
Adrienne had pressed on with her examination of Damon’s candidacy to father their child. ‘There are other factors to consider too.’
‘Like?’
‘Like – and this is going to make me sound like such a bitch – he’s a twenty-eight-year-old supermarket shelf-stacker. A little ambition wouldn’t go amiss. I want our child to look up to its parents, to see how hard they’ve worked, to want to be like them.’
‘Would you rather he was an absolute arsehole, but pulling in a six-figure salary?’
‘What I’msayingis there might be better options for us. And isn’t the notion of having two mums and a dad on the scene a little ... outdated? A bit Generation X?’
‘You’d prefer an anonymous sperm donor?’
‘Perhaps it’s something we should consider.’
‘Just because Damon hasn’t found his path yet doesn’t mean he won’t. Maybe having the responsibility of a child is what he needs to reassess where his life is going.’
‘It shouldn’t take a baby for him to want to do that,’ said Adrienne. ‘And are you sure the real reason you want him to be our baby’s dad isn’t because you want to give him the family he doesn’t have?’
Tellingly, Melissa had hesitated before she said no. As, yes, it had been a factor in her decision. She shared a close bond with her parents, three brothers and sister, but Damon was alone. No siblings, no cousins, no granny or granddad. Only two dead parents. She hurt for him. She wanted him to have a biological link with another person in this world. Not that he ever admitted it, but she was convinced that never having had a regular father figure in his life was an open wound for Damon. Becoming a dad himself might help him to heal.
But there was more to it than that. A reason she didn’t like to dwell upon, because she hated herself for it. A reason she intended to keep from Damon until her dying day.
She and Adrienne continued talking long into that night and over the following days, until they finally reached the same page and presented the idea to him.
But that was long before Damon drowned.
Because the version of him who sits before her today in this dim little café is different. He is on edge, struggling to maintain eye contact. He taps at the semicolon tattoo on his wrist, a sure sign he is anxious. She glances at three empty espresso cups on the table and she wonders how long he has been sitting here alone.
‘What’s going on?’ she persists. ‘What aren’t you telling me?’
Chapter 18
Melissa
‘Damon?’ Melissa asks when he doesn’t reply. She is trying hard not to show how worried she is about him.Treat him like a patient, she thinks.Listen, assess. Don’t judge.
He takes a deep breath. And for the first time today, he maintains eye contact. ‘I’m not doing so well.’
‘Is it something to do with Brighton?’ She purposely avoids using the word ‘drowned’. It’s ghoulish, and neither of them needs reminding of it. The reality of his death still haunts her. ‘If you need to see a doctor, I can drive us to A&E right now. We’ll be there in ten minutes.’
‘And spend all day in a waiting room only to be told what I already know?’
‘Which is?’
‘That there’s nothing physically wrong with me.’
‘Then what is it?’
He cocks his head and hunches his shoulders over the table so he is closer to her.
‘Him,’ he says. ‘The boy.’
‘What boy?’ she asks, genuinely perplexed.
‘Theboy,’ he repeats, placing emphasis on the definite article. ‘The one who was dying.’
Now the penny drops. ‘The kid you thought you saw when you were in the water?’
