Chapter 20 #3
‘I’m sorry,’ he says eventually, pouring me a small cup of tea, the steam billowing in front of us, my hands wrapping around the warm container.
‘For my disappearing act. For not talking to you about it all. I shut you out, and that wasn’t fair.
I just… I didn’t know how to handle it. Something bad happened, and I did what I’ve always done when something bad happens – sounded a retreat.
I have no excuses other than I learned early on in life to never show weakness.
I felt weak, and I was too afraid to share that with you. I’m sorry if I hurt you.’
‘You did,’ I murmur. ‘I understand what you’re saying, but you did hurt me. I’ve spent the whole night worried about you, and then I saw Miranda and she told me what happened, and then I found that your tent was missing, that you’d packed up and left. I thought you were gone.’
He looks slightly surprised at that but quickly recalibrates. He nods and bites his lip before replying.
‘I can see why you thought that, but I’m not gone, and I’m not planning on going, and I’m so sorry I put you through that.
I was so far up my own backside that I didn’t even think it through properly.
I should have messaged you, or put a note through the door, anything at all to let you know where I was. ’
‘You should have done that, yes. You know we’re both flight risks, Guy. I thought… I thought you’d finally come to your senses and flown.’
He turns to look directly at me, and smooths the tears from my cheeks with his thumbs. He leans down and kisses my eyelids and strokes my damp hair back from my face.
‘I was upset. The conversation with Miranda did not go well. It’s not her fault.
She was shocked and off balance and lashing out.
But after that, I needed to do something.
I couldn’t deal with being around people, I was too toxic, but I also couldn’t stand the thought of going back to the tent and lying awake all night.
Maybe right then, in that moment, I was a flight risk – I’d be lying if I said a tiny part of me wasn’t capable of packing up my rucksack and walking away.
But that tiny part of me is an idiot, and I knew that.
So I packed up my rucksack and came here.
Did some jobs, got on with some work. In fact I stripped all the old anaglypta wallpaper from the hallway. ’
I remember that wallpaper. It was hideous.
Some good has come of all this, at least. I sip my tea, and take some deep breaths, and try to calm my emotions and my thoughts.
It’s like herding drunk cats. I’m so relieved that he is here, but I’m also confused and hurt and scared.
This whole episode has shown me how much I love him, how much I depend on him – and that is terrifying.
‘How are you feeling now?’ I ask. ‘Truthfully? Because, Guy, I can’t go through this again.
You can see how upset I’ve been. I thought you’d gone, and that almost broke me.
I can’t live like this, it’s not fair to me or to the baby.
If you’re not sure, I need to know – I’d understand.
There would be no hard feelings, you could walk away unscathed.
You came here to find your family, and none of it has quite turned out like you thought.
So if you have doubts, then go. It would be the kindest thing to do for all of us. ’
I hear him suck in a hiss of breath, and glance up to see real shock on his face. I guess he didn’t quite appreciate how upset I was after all.
‘I don’t want to go,’ he says firmly. ‘I have no intention of going. You’re stuck with me, whether you like it or not.
I love you, and I’m here to stay. We’re officially not-engaged, and I take that commitment seriously.
I’m sorry I made you feel like you couldn’t trust me, but I promise you can.
I’m here. I’m yours. And family is so much more than DNA, isn’t it?
I was thinking about it last night. I was thinking about it at dawn, when I sat right here and watched the sun rise over the sea.
I’m thinking about it now. Family is what you make it, not what you’re born with. ’
His voice is full of emotion, and I can see that it’s his turn to be close to tears. I slide my hand into his, hold on tight.
‘What do you mean?’ I ask. I want to just forgive him, to hold him, to give us both the comfort and relief of going back to normal. But this is too big, too important. It has to be right.
‘I mean that Miranda might not be genetically mine, but I still love her. I still remember seeing her being born, screaming at the world even then. I still remember holding her in my arms and being filled with fear and wonder. I’m still incredibly proud of the young woman she’s grown to be, no matter what life has thrown at her.
Evan might not be a blood relation, but I still feel like his grandad – I still want to give him aeroplane rides on my shoulders, and watch him bang bang fix with his hammer, and see him grow up. ’
He falters slightly, his grip on my fingers tightening as he goes on.
‘I want this house to welcome him, to see him running around this garden. I can’t wait to meet your baby – our baby – and watch him or her take their first steps here.
To provide them with a safe space where they feel loved.
To make a home for us all. I want to spend the rest of my life here with you, Suzie, laughing with you, learning with you and loving you.
That’s what family is to me – it’s nothing to do with DNA.
So, all respect to Dan and to the scientists of the world, but they can keep their apps and their research and their genetic markers.
You are my family. This is my home. Nothing can change that. Assuming it’s still what you want?’
I can feel the sincerity of his declaration, and I know he means every single word of what he just said. I can also feel the fear that lies behind that last question, the rejected little boy that is still inside him.
We both jump in shock as a sudden bleeping noise starts to blare from my phone. The alarm I’d set earlier. I grimace and switch it off. Jarring, but maybe also convenient – my time of self-pity is officially over.
I put my tea down beside me and take the blanket from my lap.
It’s a bit of a struggle, but eventually I manage to manoeuvre myself into the position I want to be in – down on one knee before him.
He stares at me in surprise, then a flicker of a smile curves his lips.
‘What are you doing, you crazy woman?’ he asks.
‘I’m being crazy,’ I tell him. ‘As you’d expect.
Guy, I love you. I love everything you just said.
I love the life we are going to build together.
Now, as we have discussed, I’ve never been the marrying type before, but I guess I’ve changed my mind.
Woman’s prerogative. Guy Keegan, will you do me the honour of being my husband? ’
He laughs, a joyous sound after everything we’ve been through, and stands up. He takes my hands in his and helps me upright.
‘Yes,’ he says simply, pulling me in close, wrapping me up in his strong arms, ‘yes I will!’
He kisses me, both of us crying, both of us wrung out and tired and delirious with happiness. It feels so right. So real, so solid. So much like home.
‘Good. I’m glad that’s sorted,’ I tell him firmly. ‘But can we go inside now? I’m still really cold, and—’
‘Let me guess, you need the loo?’
‘Oh, Guy,’ I sigh, nodding. ‘You do complete me!’
He smiles and takes my hand, and together we walk back down to our house. Together, we put one foot in front of the other.
*