I exhaled and tipped my head back, clutching my coffee. “We kissed. No one saw us or if they did they haven’t said anything.”
“Colour me unsurprised.”
“You need to keep that crystal ball locked away,” I muttered. “We’ve agreed to talk.”
“Are you going to tell him? You need to.” The grounding of coffee beans broke the peaceful quiet but the aroma was delicious.
“We’ve said we’ll talk so yes I am. He won’t want to speak to me afterwards,” I said, looking at the bottom of my mug.
“I beg to differ. He will understand why you made the decision. Although he will want to know why you didn’t tell him at the time. My guess he would’ve supported you whatever you’d chosen,” she said. “I’m pretty sure that’s what will come of the conversation once he’s had time to think about it.”
I shrugged. I’d already gone through every possible reaction. Some were more extreme than others.
“How was the kiss?”
I looked at her. “Not something I’m willing to discuss.”
“Your eyes give it away,” she said. Anything more she wanted to add was halted by the knocking of tiny hands at the door where near identical twins stood in matching shorts and t-shirts, just their hair tied differently. Nick waved at us and a baby’s giggle sounded. My heart melted as Kitty ran towards me, arms outstretched.
“Store ee,” she announced, clamouring onto my knee, tiny fingers touching my face. I cuddled her into me and inhaled, the slight baby smell still there.
“What story?”
“Ed Iding Ood.”
I began the tale, aware when Killian entered the kitchen looking rumpled and sleep washed. He sat on a bar stool, pulling Margot into his arms as she listened to my story too, Nick talking quietly to Marie. Vanessa bobbed in seeking coffee and gave me an odd smile. It was all I could do to keep the pace of the tale, my eyes and chest filling up with need and want seeing the big blonde man with a tiny girl in his arms and wondering what it would have been like and what it would be like now, because that kiss had told me that I was nowhere near over him. I didn’t move my eyes from him, even knowing that Marie was watching me subtly, glancing occasionally at the twins we both held.
“Do you want pancakes, girls?” Marie asked as I ended the story and before the twins could demand more. Kitty climbed off my knee, saying thank you with a kick in the shin, while Margot hugged Killian fiercely and pulled his beard. He put her down with a laugh and a smile for me and my lids felt heavy with desire.
It stayed the four of us adults with the twins, drinking coffee and eating pancakes with bacon and maple syrup until my father came down, loaded with Sunday papers and a twinkle in his eye as he spied Marie. We discussed the headlines, Dean Lacey, American politics where my father deliberately rattled Marie, and the celebrities who were lined up for a reality TV dance show. Killian was relaxed, sitting on the floor to supervise the playing his nieces were doing, occasionally intervening when one attempted to seemingly kill the other. Gradually my siblings and friends woke up, appearing in various states of dishevelment, from Seph who looked as if he’d just completed a week of detox in a spa to Amelie who looked as if she wanted to die quietly in a field or murder Max, who was enjoying tormenting her over her hangover.
“Claire, give me a hand with the meat in the fridge in the cold room,” Marie said, still dressed from the run she hadn’t gone on. “I need to work out how much to do.”
I followed her knowing that she didn’t need my opinion and was instead wanting to pass comment on something she had observed. There were times when this would irritate me, but in all the years she had been my mother, for all intents and purposes, she had never been wrong.
“Pork or beef?” she said, opening the fridge in the small storage kitchen that was also used to hoard wine and my father’s home brews, some of which were disastrous.
“Beef,” I said, looking at her, puzzled.
“Sweet potatoes or roast?”
“Both.”
“What?” she said, her eyes shining.
I sighed. “Whatever you want to say, say it. There’s no way you would drag me in here to actually get my opinion on what to cook for Sunday lunch,”
She chuckled. “Promise me you’ll talk to him in the next couple of days. The way you were looking at each other when you were holding the twins – Claire, it breaks my heart.” I saw tears flicker in her eyes despite the smile on her face.
“Did I do the right thing?”
“By kissing him? Yes! Absolutely!”
“No,” I shook my head. “You know, back then.”
She bit her lip and regarded me sharply. I hadn’t asked her before, in all the years since, I had never asked her if she agreed with my decision. It was done and nothing would change that. “Yes. I thought you made the right decision,” she said slowly and quietly. “You were too young and both of you deserved the chance to grow up without having to rush. But if you had decided to go through with it and you were asking me that question now, I would be saying the same.”
I took the carrots and broccoli she passed to me, looking at the vegetables rather than her.
