‘Summer was born and Bec,Jesus,she was so sick already. I took time away from work, but it didn’t matter what I did, it wasn’t enough. I had to hire a nanny for Summer and a nurse for Bec at the same time. It was just so fucking horrendous and no matter how much I tried or how many doctors I dragged her to, the tumour kept growing. It killed her within twelve months. She didn’t see Summer’s first birthday. But it changed who she was, too. And this … other person replaced the person I loved.’
His face lost colour, as he said this, and his voice became a hoarse whisper. ‘She would rage at me, Abbey. I couldn’t leave her alone with the baby. It was like all the light parts of her personality got consumed by the tumour and all that was left were the dark parts. I felt the grief hardest then, while she was still alive, and I didn’t recognise her anymore. She hated me, hated our life, hated our child. When the doctor said she had to go into palliative care, I felt relieved that it was almost over. What kind of man feels that, about his wife, about someone he loved?’ He squeezed my hand tighter. His other hand rose across his chest, and I could feel the ache in mine like it was my pain.
‘Abbey, I loved Summer from the minute she was born. Honestly. But I missed Becca so much I just couldn’t function. It was my job to protect her. My wife. I promised myself I would protect my family the minute Mum and Dad died, but I couldn’t. I could not control any of it. I was in this black, cavernous hole. I didn’t want to be in a world where Rebecca was gone, and I let the grief consume me.’ His breath shuddered, and he pushed away a tear that would not obey his desire not to cry. ‘Ollie and Ev were so great, they got me some help and looked after Summer while I was sick. They looked after me. I don’t think I’d be here if it weren’t for them.’
I wrapped my arm around him.
‘Whenever I feel overwhelmed, regardless of what is happening in life, I lean on them. I do my best every day to recreate the Rebecca that I loved for Summer, who doesn’t have a single memory of her mum. I hope I’m doing a good job of that. On the anniversary of Bec’s death, I force myself to go on a holiday. I go to the resort that was the first one my mother bought. Hartwell was her company, her maiden name. This year was the tenth anniversary of Bec’s death.’
‘Our holiday?’
‘It’s the first one … the first one I have been on where I met someone who made me feel … not sad.’
I put my head down on his shoulder and he pressed a kiss into my hair, and we sat there together, in front of a William Turner painting calledShade and Darkness, while I processed the tragedy that had been his life. Was it any wonder he was terrified of letting it happen again?
I startled a little about ten minutes later when he spoke.
‘C’mon, Abs,’ he sniffed and wiped his eyes again. ‘I need a drink. Let’s pub crawl.’
When we stood, I hugged him suddenly and, with a deal of force, kissed his bristled cheek. ‘I’m so sorry you have been through so much in your life. I cannot imagine what that was like, Nick. I love you. You are a good man.’ He kissed my head again. ‘Let’s get you a beer,’ I said.
As we emerged into the late afternoon, the temperature outside had plummeted, and a frosty wind raced through the city. I loathed the cold, and I buried my nose into his warmth while he teased me, calling me and all Australians ‘children of summer’.
‘Have you ever been to England?’ he asked.
‘I did a Contiki tour once.’
‘That doesn’t count.’
‘I slept with a guy from Essex.’
‘That definitely doesn’t count.’ He laughed. ‘Abbey, I don’t know how you would survive an English winter.’
‘Oh, I’d survive. I am a survivor and I never complain.’ My lips were shivering.
He shook his head, but he took pity on me, dragging me into the first pub we spotted. It was warm with a mass of bodies, and he joined the queue for drinks. By the time he emerged, two miracles had occurred. I had ducked next door to buy us a little something, and I had found a table.
I reached into a bag and handed him his gift and he looked at it, puzzled. I clinked my glass onto his, feeling quite pleased with myself.
‘Don’t you believe we should have discussed which team we were supporting tonight?’ he said.
‘No. I decided. You need to deal with it.’
‘Sweetheart, if you are going to pick teams for me, you are going to have to give me a reason.’ His voice was low and flirty.
Jesus Christ, this man is fire.
He leaned over the table and took my hand, running his thumb over the cheap silver flower ring I had on, causing electricity to course up my arm. ‘So, Abigail, why this team? Why am I an Essendon Bombers fan tonight?’
‘Well, Nicholas … admittedly, I don’t know heaps about AFL, and I would never normally dream of being such a controlling person to make decisions foryou.’ I paused for emphasis, and he rolled his eyes, grinning. ‘But what I know for absolute certain, mostly because it is a well-known fact amongst Australians at large, is that Collingwood supporters are the worst. So, by elimination, we are indeed now Essendon fans. C’mon the Bombers!’ I did my best Lleyton Hewitt impersonation.
I reached over and wrapped the scarf around his beautiful throat, pulling him close and pressing a kiss onto his lips. ‘Now drink up, gorgeous man. Google tells me there are at least three more pubs on the way. And this game will be fucking packed.’
He looked at me with devotion, which made my stomach flip over itself. I wanted this man in my life. Permanently. Anything less than that was simply not enough.
Nick
I woke the next morning feeling significantly better than I had expected when I went to sleep five hours ago. I rolled over in the unfamiliar bed, trying to find her in it and did not have to look too far, for her head was on her pillow and she was facing me.
