I nodded. “Fourteen more days.” I could take a pregnancy test then.
“I know. I’m trying not to get mine up too. We can’t rush time, ‘Ris. But we are in this together and that isn’t going to change.”
His words were said so sincerely that I broke completely. The crying fits I’d had in the last day or so had been limited in their duration, not wanting to be found out by him, but there was no reason to hide this one.
“Why did you hide in your study if you weren’t writing?” The words were spoken between tears.
“I wanted to give you space and work out what to do. I knew you were avoiding me because you were upset – you’re the shittiest actor, by the way. But I couldn’t pretend to ignore you anymore.” He nuzzled my hair. “Let’s go inside. The fire’s on and I’ve brought a pile of freshly washed blankets in from the dryer. Then we can go to Puffin Inn for dinner.”
I wrapped myself up in him a little longer. “Blankets? Where are they from?”
“Ireland. My mam’s neighbour sent them over. Mam said they needed freshening up.” His arms were wrapped around me now, holding me like he was my lover rather than my friend.
I didn’t not like it.
“Blankets and a fire and dinner in a coastal pub. Seventeen-year-old me didn’t realise this would be what she dreamed of.” I was smiling now, the tears had stopped, just like how the remnants of the wind had settled.
“What did seventeen-year-old Iris dream of?”
“Pop stars and boy bands.”
His jaw clenched. “I could’ve been in a boy band.”
“I know.” It was true. He could sing, like all of his brothers, and he had the sort of good looks that would’ve had girls obsessing over him. “But you weren’t, so this conversation can stop now.”
He touched his forehead against mine, his eyes devilishly dark. “For now.”
We walked to the Puffin Inn even though I offered to drive. Alcohol would be off the menu for some time now. Even if this cycle wasn’t successful, there would only be a couple of months before we tried again and if there was anything I could do to heighten the chances of having a healthy pregnancy then I’d be doing it.
But neither of us had been out of the house today, and exercise was good, so we took the coastal path to the town, Gully helicoptering round whenever the path was slightly uneven, which was completely uncalled for.
I told him such and he chose to ignore me, keeping hold of my hand or his arm wrapped around my waist.
The pub was busy, although Amelie wasn’t around. A few of the holiday parks had opened and it seemed a group of people who lived in them for most of the year had decided to meet up, filling one of the lounges. Roe was there as well, Calla in a pushchair next to him, fast asleep but not looking peaceful.
Gully spotted her and crouched down next to her, checking her forehead with the back of his hand.
“Is she well?” He looked at Roe who closed his laptop and shook his head.
“She’s had a temperature and seems a bit snotty. We think it’s a cold which has turned her into a ratbag so I’ve brought her out for a bit. Fresh air and a change of scenery. Freya’s had clients all day and she was trying to do everything as usual, so we needed to get out of the way.” Roe gave me a quick smile and a nod. “I don’t think she’s contagious – me and Freya are fine.”
“Thanks.” I appreciated that. He knew, of course, where the process was up to.
Process.
It shouldn’t be a process.
If nature had been fair, the process would’ve involved several decent orgasms being held by the potential father after such orgasms, maybe with murmurings about ‘what if’ and ‘in a few months’. Instead it had been a doctor and clinically white rooms, rather than a comfy mattress or a rug in front of an open fire.
Teary eyes opened and looked at Gully. Calla’s arms stretched out and her uncle obliged, undoing the straps and picking her up out of her pushchair, pressing kisses to her soft hair and cuddling her.
She smiled at him, grabbing at his face and his hair.
I was spellbound.
My stomach did the sort of pirouette, that would’ve earned me a ten from judges had it been a performance, and my heart skipped a beat, or several.
Calla buried her head in Gully’s neck, but I heard a giggle and her sad sleeping face became full of smiles.
