“What?” He vaguely remembered the takeaway, but couldn’t recall this conversation at all.
“Yeah! And I’m not putting any pressure on.” She smiled—a little tightly, he thought. “Not right now is fine.”
“But, Aspen…I’m not saying not right now. I’m saying I don’t want kids.”
He had kept his voice gentle, but her eyes instantly filled with tears.
“I’m so sorry,” he said. The shame swirled in his stomach.
“You don’t have to decide now!” she said, blinking fast. “I was a no, too, in my twenties.”
“But I’m not in my twenties, Aspen. I’m thirty-seven. And I really feel sure about this.”
“Howcanyou be?” she said, her voice rising. “You were a not-right-now like, six months ago. What happened?”
“I don’t even remember saying that. It was just a throwaway remark, I guess—like, wow, imagine being a dad at this point in my life. I don’t know. I honestly don’t remember it.”
Aspen picked up Mabel, holding her in her lap like a shield. Her tears spilled over; she swiped them away with frustration.
“A throwaway remark,” she said bitterly.
“I mean, I assume so? I don’t remember. I’m sorry.”
“Do you remember what I said to you when we first met?”
“What?”
“I told you not to waste my time.”
Aspen struggled to her feet with Mabel in her arms. She began thrashing around with the sling, trying to get Mabel in; Mabel frowned, then squawked in protest, then began to cry.
“Can I help you?” Jones said, getting up clumsily.
“No,” Aspen said, and her voice was like steel. “No, you really can’t.”
“Aspen, please, don’t be like this. I love you,” he said, a little helplessly. He felt awful.
“Do you really?” she snapped, fixing the last strap around Mabel’s shoulders. “Or are you just fucking incapable of being alone?”
Friday October 3rd 2025
Brianna just rang. Having resulting loss of mojo. Feel quite peeved.
“Have you booked an appointment to get it on with Keith?” she said.
Was walking down the Rue, heading for the chocolate shop—we were out of pumpkin spice truffles, because whatever Galoshes thinks, seasonal is seriously selling. The coffee machine has been up and running for a week now, and we’re the busiest we’ve ever been, despite peak tourist season coming to an end. Doc’s biscuits areflying.
“Keith the sperm guy!” Brianna explained, when I asked her what the hell she was on about.
“Oh. Didn’t we decide against Keith?”
“Right, well, whoever, whichever father you settled on.”
“I’ve not booked my first proper appointment at the Guernsey clinic yet,” I said. “And you don’t just get to wander in and grab a pot, if you know what I’m saying—there are a bunch of things to do first.”
“You’ve not booked it?”
This wasfullof subtext.
