When we fall silent, she asks, “Do you want to talk about anything or ask me anything about it all?”
I have a million questions, but I don’t think bombarding her is the right move, so I ask the one that’s been burning me alive. “Your stance on no children: is that because you don’t want them, or you can’t have them?”
She stills beneath my touch. I’m sure I’ve struck a chord, but we’ll need to get it all out in the open eventually, so it’s best to start somewhere. She must agree, because she begins, “I can have them with strict monitoring or even IVF, but I don’t want them, Jack. I would be a nervous wreck that something would happen, and I don’t think that would be good for me or the baby.” She pauses and takes a deep inhale. “I’m sorry. I know how much you’ve always wanted to be a dad. I’ve never considered it, but perhaps we can adopt or go through surrogacy.”
Although I’m sad that I won’t ever get the chance to see Annabelle pregnant, her mental and physical health are what’s important to me.
Maybe we’re only meant to be aunts and uncles. Who knows.
“Don’t be sorry. Having you alive in my arms is more valuable than anything else, and the only thing set in stone is that we end up together. The rest we’ll figure out along the way.”
“I love you, Jack.”
“Me too, B.”
She snickers. “You loveyoutoo, or you love me?”
“Well, obviously, I love myself.” I laugh. “But I love you more than anything else.”
Sighing contentedly, she eases into my hold and within minutes, falls into a deep sleep.
My only wish is that I could join her, but the news of my father’s presence here in London still weighs on my mind.
To go, or not to go?
Annabelle
“Our first morning back together and you’re showering without me. That’s a punishable offense,” Jack jokes.
“Oh no, you don’t,” I say as I push him back. “I need to get ready and get dressed, Jack.”
He reaches out and grabs a palm full of my arse as I walk by, squeezing tightly. “Fuck, it’s been too long since I’ve touched you. I want to spend the day with you. Don’t go to work.”
After I put on my robe, I brush my hair and watch Jack through the mirror to see how he will react when I tell him what I’m doing today.
“We’re okay, right, B? I know it’ll take time, but everything will work out.”
I smile softly as I glide the brush through my long hair before pulling it into a slick bun. “We’re as perfect as we can be, Jack. I’m not getting ready to go to work. I’m going to Evelyn’s with Sadie and Wills to meet your father.”
He stops mid-scrub and sets down the soap. “What did you say?”
“I’m not forcing you to go. I thought about it for a second, but you need to be the one to make this decision. I’m going because Sadie asked us to be there to support her.”
He holds my stare, then huffs loudly and continues his washdown. “Well, I’m not going. I’ve decided he can fuck off.”
“Okay. I figured as much,” I say absentmindedly.
This was a fifty-fifty gamble. Jack needs to go today; he can’t go the rest of his life wondering what the hell happened with his dad.
Option one was I demand that he goes, but he’s a prideful man, my Jack, and forcing him would never have worked.
The only way I know I stand a chance is with option two: reverse psychology. If I nonchalantly give him the reasons he should go—like supporting his sister—he’ll think he made the choice himself.
“It would probably be too many people in his face anyway, and I’m sure he has a lot to say after thirty-five-plus years of distance,” I announce as I walk out to change.
Soon after, Jack’s behind me, clanking his stuff around and acting like a child. “If he wants to talk, he should have to deal with however many people it takes.”
“You’re right.” I step into my new Victoria Beckham trousers. “I wasn’t thinking. Sorry, darling.” I kiss his cheek as I reach for my blazer.
