But this couldn’t be love, could it? I’d known her for days, the sex was amazing. I was sex-drunk, intoxicated on orgasms, stoned with fucking the woman who might be perfect for me.
I wasn’t in love.
Was I?
I held her a little tighter because I realised then that I might be.
Someone, somewhere, had thought it was a good idea for the teams on both sides of the case to endure a meal together at a swanky restaurant in part of New York City I hadn’t visited yet. The entourage included both my father and Marie’s, which wasn’t sitting well for a comfortable evening.
I’d be eating steak opposite a man whose daughter I’d been eating out for breakfast, dinner, and on one occasion, lunch.
I had a vision of the future where Claire, my daughter, brought a boyfriend home for dinner and I had to sit opposite him, knowing he was spending time with her. Alone.
If I was Marie’s dad, I’d want to hang me up on a post by my balls then drench me in poisonous spiders. If I was Marie’s dad, I wouldn’t want her anywhere near a recently widowed single dad with four tearaway children, no matter how wealthy he was.
I was not a good prospect.
Marie was beautiful and intelligent and was full of that spark which lit up every room she was in. She’d captivated me and would captivate other men, other men with more to offer than I had.
I didn’t resent my children. They had come too soon, unplanned but loved, even if I wasn’t too sure how to show that I loved them – certainly not how I was behaving right now which was with avoidance.
I hated not knowing how to do something.
“Seems odd having dinner with the opposition, doesn’t it?” My father surveyed me via mirror, straightening his bow tie.
We were tuxedoed up, trussed up in our finest for a meal that would probably leave half the party with indigestion and an uncomfortable night’s sleep. I’d had to rush back to the hotel after spending the day with Marie in Central Park, having bought a camera and using up film so I could take photos to show Max and Jackson who’d both had a million questions yesterday when I spoke to them. It’d been easier being in a city that they were interested in and I wondered whether bringing them here at Christmas would be a good idea.
Maybe they could meet Marie.
“You look better, son.” My dad paused and frowned through the mirror. “Best I’ve seen you since Rachael died.”
“I think the change of scenery’s done me good.”
He gave a nod. “Any thought to moving here?”
“It had crossed my mind but I think it’d be too much for the kids.” As much as I thought the idea of moving to London for term time was a good one, the eldest three loved their home in Oxford, and I wanted them to grow up in England. They had friends there, and family, and a move overseas would take them away from so much, even if it meant I’d be closer to the one thing in America that I wanted.
My dad nodded again, redoing his tie. “You got the nanny situation sorted out?”
“No. I’m going to need to take some leave when I get back. Maybe three months or so. I need to spend some time with them, Dad.” Which I should’ve done when Rachael died.
“What about your case load?”
It was less challenge than I’d expected. “I can reallocate it. The mediation was the biggest issue and I can keep a check on that via the phone. I know it’s not ideal, but I have a solution that’ll be for the best in the long run, it’ll just take a few months to put it in place.”
“What’s the solution?”
“I’m going to buy a family house in London. Near to Borough. The kids can go to school in the city and it’ll be easier for childcare. We can go back to Oxfordshire for the weekends and school holidays.” My father knew that once my mind was made up, it was unmoveable.
“No boarding school? Maxwell’s more than old enough.”
“No. They’ve been through too much. I can’t separate them either. I haven’t been a great dad so far and I need to put that right.”
I expected more come back than the slow nod he gave, his tie now perfect.
“Do you want some money from your trust for the house? I’d rather you bought well and you come into the money in fiveyears anyway. Bricks and mortar are the best place for any long term investment, as you know.”
I’d been schooled on how to invest since I was ten and my dad spent a Sunday afternoon with me and a ten-pound note, going through possible investments and a scenario where I could see my money work for itself.
