I have known for a while that it can no longer be in question: a decade on, and he hasn’t aged a day. He will look, for the rest of his life, as though the best is yet to come.
In contrast, I’m aware that tiny lines spring to my eyes and mouth now, whenever I smile. That my skin has a touch less spring these days, and my clothes are a little snugger. I’m not sure if this bothers me, really. I certainly don’t expend much energy thinking about it. But, whenever I am with Josh, it’s hard not to compare the way I look with the appearance of a man who is, essentially, living life in freeze-frame.
He tells me about the meeting he’s had today, to discuss a potential project. His publisher has come up with an idea for a novel, and asked Josh if he will write it. ‘I know beggars can’t be choosers, but the idea was pretty bonkers.’
At this, Emma giggles.
‘What’s funny?’ Josh says, turning to her with a teasing expression. ‘Bonkers? What’s so funny about bonkers?’
This, of course, only makes her laugh harder.
‘So will you do it?’ I ask.
He nods, but so sadly it hurts my heart. ‘Can’t not write. Or turn down work. If that’s my only option then... of course.’
‘Have faith,’ I assure him. ‘I’m sure world domination is just around the corner.’
He smiles gratefully. ‘So, tell me. How’s everything going, with Oliver?’
I struggle to know how to answer this. Because there will never be an easy way to talk about my boyfriend with the man I once promised to love forever.
I let out a breath, nodding down at Emma. She has returned her attention to her hot chocolate, clamping the cup over her nose, determined to fish out every last drop with her tongue. ‘Can I fill you in later?’
‘Sure. Sorry.’ He nods back, then claps his hands. ‘Right. Who’s up for a skate?’
Emma immediately abandons her cup. ‘Me!’
‘No one?’ Josh says, pretending to look around. ‘You’re sure? No one else wants to come skating with me?’
‘Me!’ Emma squeals. ‘I do!’
Josh exaggerates a shrug. ‘Oh, well. I guess it’s just me, then.’
Emma tugs fiercely at his coat between gulps of laughter, practically falling off her seat in desperation. ‘Me, I want to!’
He looks down at her. ‘Oh, hello. Didn’t see you there.’
This elicits another feverish round of giggles, which makes me laugh too.
Josh dips his face to Emma’s. ‘Did I hear you say you’d like to come skating with me?’
She nods several times in quick succession.
He looks at me. ‘Coming?’
The truth is, I would love to get on the rink right now. But I am a terrible skater, all legs and no co-ordination, even more so than Josh. Which means that at some point I will be forced to grab his hand. And that – at Christmas, on an ice rink together – would be crossing the line I have drawn inside my heart.
I shake my head, lift my sketchbook. ‘I’m recording it all for posterity.’
Josh looks down at Emma. ‘It’s just you and me, kid. Mum’s bottled it.’
‘Here, sweetie.’ I take out a tissue and wipe the chocolate from Emma’s mouth and chin before they go. Over the top of her head, I meet Josh’s eye, and feel his gaze tug at me, like a tide running out to sea.
‘Come on, then,’ he says to Emma, taking her mittened hand. ‘Better get...’ He pauses, raising his eyebrows at her in anticipation.
‘. . . our skates on!’ she squeals, delightedly.
I have worried since Emma was born that it is cruel, asking Josh if he would like to spend time with her. That I am parading parenthood in front of him. It often feels, at the very least, spectacularly insensitive.
