Chapter Twenty
Juliette
We lie for a while as our heartbeats slow, outlined by the moonlight. I rest on Henry’s chest, and he traces patterns on my back with light fingers.
“How’s your nephew doing?” I ask.
“Not great.” He sighs. “His girlfriend is having the pregnancy terminated next week. Happy New Year, eh?”
“Aw. And he doesn’t want her to?”
“He said she doesn’t either. I don’t know whether that’s true and she’s getting pressure from her parents, or if she’s just saying that because she doesn’t want to hurt his feelings.”
“Poor kids. Sixteen’s no age to have a baby.”
“No. He’s very upset about it. On Christmas Day, I told him to stop making a fuss because it should be a day of celebration. He said, ‘I made a baby, and he won’t get to be born. What would Jesus say about that?’”
“He’s got a point.”
“I know. That’s what makes it so hard. You gotta support the girl, no question. Pro-choice and all that. But it’s tough. Still, won’t ever be a problem for me personally.”
I turn my head and rest my chin on my hand. He has one arm tucked under his head, and we survey each other quietly.
“Elephant in the room,” he says.
I kiss his chest. “Yeah.”
“Have you been thinking about it?” he asks.
“Yeah.”
His hand stills on my back. “And?”
“Am I right in thinking you’d rather not go through IVF?”
“I’d rather not. But I would, for you.”
I rest my lips on his skin. I’m deeply touched. After everything he’s been through, he’d still do it for me.
It’s such a shame, though. I’d rather him do it because he really wants children. I’m sure the urge to have them is what carries most couples through the regular disappointments. If he’s reluctant going in, and the first round doesn’t work… what then?
Ohhh… life is so hard sometimes, so complicated. And it’s ridiculous, because we haven’t even dated properly. Hell, I haven’t even finished my old relationship. Talk about run before you can even crawl. The last thing we should be discussing is having a family.
But we’re not like Rangi and his girl—we’re not sixteen. We’re heading toward thirty, and although there’s still plenty of time, his infertility is a cloud hanging over us that is going to force us to look at things differently.
“How do you feel about not being able to have kids?” I ask.
He studies me, his eyes like silver discs in the moonlight. “I’m not used to talking about it.”
“Really? Shaz never asked?”
He shakes his head and resumes drawing on my back. “It’s hard not to see it as a failure,” he says eventually. “It’s the whole reason for existence, isn’t it? Procreation. Continuing the line. If Darwin had his way, I’d have been weeded out long ago.”
I blow a raspberry.
“I’m serious,” he says. “If we were a prehistoric tribe, I’d have been sitting in the shadows without a woman, all skinny because they wouldn’t give me any food.”
“Bullshit. Even if you couldn’t knock up the women, you’d still be running the place, bossing all the cavemen around and telling them they’d used up their holiday quota.”
That makes him laugh. “Yeah, maybe.”
“We’ve advanced a long way from procreation being the major reason for existence. So many people, like James, choose not to have children nowadays, but that doesn’t mean they don’t deserve to live. You contribute to mankind in a huge way. You enrich people’s lives, including mine. Darwin can go fuck himself.”
“Yeah, all right.”
“I’ll get that put on a T-shirt for you.”
He laughs again.
I kiss his chest. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Of course.”
“Did you ever talk about having a sperm donor with Shaz?”
“No. We never really got that far. Things were going wrong between us before we got to the IVF and donor discussion.”
“So… what do you think about it?”
He hesitates. “I don’t know. Donor children can access details of the donor when they’re eighteen.”
“Ah, I didn’t know that.”
He shifts on the pillow. “I suppose it’s no different from adopting and the adopted child wanting to find their real parents.”
“True.”
“I’d need to think about it. It’s pretty much like bringing up someone else’s child.”
“Well, in the donor case it would be half mine.”
“I suppose.” He doesn’t sound enthused.
I draw a finger through his chest hair. “What about having a personal donor? Someone we know and trust?” I chuckle at the look on his face. “You don’t like that idea?”
“I’m not letting Alex or James knock you up.”
“You know the donor doesn’t have sex with the woman, right?”
“Even so. That would be weird.”
“Do you think so?
He hesitates, clearly struggling with the idea.
“I’ve changed my mind,” I say with amusement. “You are a Neanderthal.”
“Okay, look, say that I wasn’t infertile, and Gaby and Tyson came to me and asked if I’d donate for them? Wouldn’t it be weird to watch her get pregnant with my sperm? And when the baby was born, every time I looked at it, I’d think that baby’s mine. Don’t you think that would haunt me? And Tyson?”
“I don’t know, I think being a donor is an incredibly generous thing to do. Especially for someone you know well. I’d much rather a friend do it than a stranger.”
“I’m afraid we’ll have to agree to differ on that one.”
I smile. “I can tell you’re a Scorpio.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“You’re a very jealous man, aren’t you?”
His smile fades, and he looks away, out at the dark night.
I push myself up. “Oh, what did I say?”
He sighs. “Nothing, it’s okay. It’s something Shaz accused me of a lot. We had terrible rows about it.”
“Who were you jealous of?”
“A guy she worked with. I was convinced something was going on between them. She always insisted nothing happened.”
“Do you believe her?”
“Possibly, although she’s now married to him and she’s expecting their first baby, so…” He shrugs.
“Oh fuck, Henry, seriously?”
He just sighs.
I cup his face. “I’m so sorry.”
He kisses my hand. “I thought I was going mad. That’s why I have a very low tolerance for gaslighting. It’s one of the worst things a partner can do to you, in my opinion.”
He’s talking about Cam. I know Cam definitely does it to me—he talks as if I’m crazy when I say that he cheated on me with that surrogate. He’s made me feel as if I’m going mad in the past. I’d forgotten about that.
Henry draws up the duvet, and I snuggle up to him, and soon we’re both drifting off to sleep.
Deep down, our talk hasn’t solved the issue. His infertility lies like a bolster between us, and it doesn’t matter how much we talk about it, or if we choose to ignore it, it’s not going away.
A sperm donor clearly isn’t something he’d consider. I don’t want to force him to have IVF, and even though he’s said he’d do it for me, I’d feel guilty if he doesn’t really want it. I think I could convince him to adopt, but I would love to have my own children. I’ve always dreamed of being pregnant one day, and I’d be heartbroken if I couldn’t be.
I suppose it comes down to what I want more. My own children? Or Henry?
Outside, the moon shines its calming light on us. I’ll worry about it tomorrow. Tonight, he’s here in my arms, and I’m going to make the most of the moment.
*
The next morning, I head back to my room after breakfast. Henry is going over to Brooklyn Heights later to be with the other guys, and I want to take my time getting ready. I have a bath and wash my hair, then take a long time drying it and coiling it into an intricate bun. After that I do my makeup—lots of kohl on my eyes and shimmering eyeshadow, and I choose a blue bindi to wear between my brows.
As the time to leave nears, I pull on my petticoat and my new pale-blue vest, and slip on my silver high-heeled sandals. I have a new, special sari today, and I retrieve the fabric from my bag with care and unfold it reverently. It’s also pale blue with a slightly darker blue strip on each long edge, and it’s embroidered with silver thread in clusters of flowers. It’s absolutely beautiful, and I know Henry’s going to love it.
I drape it around myself, pleat it, and pin it, doing it a couple of times until I’m happy with it. Then I add my matching blue earrings, bangles, and necklace, and finally I’m good to go.
I head down to the foyer at 2:15 and meet the others heading to the church. We all get into the minivans and arrive just after 2:30.
As we leave the van, I see Henry at the front, helping people down. My heart skips a beat. Ooh, he looks amazing. Like the other groomsmen, he’s wearing a black morning coat over a dark-gray waistcoat and trousers, and a silvery-gray tie.
When I get to the front of the van, he looks up, and my heart lifts as an amazing smile lights his face.
“Hello,” he says, holding out a hand to help me down. “Wow. Look at you.”
I step down carefully and look up at him. “You look yummy,” I tell him softly.
He laughs. His eyes are very blue today. “And you look absolutely stunning, you gorgeous thing. Come on. I don’t care what anyone else thinks; I’m escorting you into the church.”
I let him, because I can’t deny him when he looks so good, and I slide my hand through his arm and walk down the path and into the church. We stop at the top of the aisle, and I take in the view of the guests starting to gather like colorful birds in their finery. Flowers decorate the end of each pew, and someone’s playing the organ, filling the church with uplifting music.
Damon’s mother, Mae, comes over, and Henry reluctantly releases me. I haven’t had much chance to speak to her yet, and she smiles as she kisses me on the cheek.
“You look so beautiful,” she says.
“You too,” I reply sincerely.
“No Cam this weekend?” she asks.
I swallow, not looking at Henry, but conscious of him standing next to me, silent and gorgeous and disapproving. Panic fills me, and I can’t think what to say. “No, his brother is visiting from the UK, and he decided to stay with him,” I blurt out.
“That’s a shame,” she says, “you make such a lovely couple. I’m sure he’s missing his girl. Well, I can see you’re in good hands! Have a great time.” She smiles and moves on.
Henry slides his hands into his pockets, glowering. He didn’t like Mae calling me Cam’s girl.
“Sorry,” I say awkwardly.
“Why aren’t you married?” he demands. “To Cam, I mean.”
I look up at him in surprise. “Because he’s never asked me.”
He frowns. “Why not?”
“He doesn’t believe in it. He says rings are an outdated symbol of ownership and possession.”
“Yeah,” he agrees. “That’s what so fucking amazing about them.” His eyes are like lasers, burning through mine as they lock onto them. “Marry me,” he says.
My jaw drops. “What?”
“You heard me.”
“Henry…” I pull him to one side and speak in a fierce whisper, conscious of the guests coming into the church. “We haven’t even dated properly yet.”
“We’re hardly strangers. I’ve known you for six years. I bet I know you better than he does.”
Someone says his name, and we glance over to see James beckoning him outside.
“Coming,” Henry calls. He looks back at me. “Cam has never married you. He has no claim on you. You’re not his. You’re mine, and I intend to put a ring on your finger so he and everyone else can see that.”
With a final glare, he walks away and disappears through the door.
I stare after him, stunned into silence. I feel as if I’ve been blasted all over with a blowtorch. My legs are wobbly. I feel a bit faint. Any thoughts I had that this was a little fling, an affair that would soon be over, rapidly vanish. I feel exultant, panicky, excited, and oddly upset, all rolled into one. He wants me, and that thrills me, but it’s too much, too fast, when I haven’t even said goodbye to Cam.
“Hey you! Wow, you look gorgeous.” It’s Aroha. “You okay?” she asks, concerned.
“Um, yes. I got a bit hot in the van and I feel lightheaded.”
“Come on,” she says, sliding her arm through mine. “Sit with me and we can gossip about everyone’s outfits.”
I smile and let her lead me to the end of a pew, and it’s cool there, the deep-red carpet covered with beautiful jewels cast by the stained-glass windows. Gradually my heart rate slows as I sit and listen to the music and chat to Aroha about how gorgeous the women are in their dresses and the guys are in their suits.
The pews fill up, and Damon and Alex take their places at the front. They both look nervous, but I see Alex nod to James at the back and whisper something to Damon, and his whole expression changes, his face lighting up, so I presume Alex has told him that his bride has arrived.
Belle walks down the aisle, and we all inhale at how beautiful she looks in her wedding gown. I watch her blush as her father hands her to Damon, and see his answering smile. I feel a strange twist deep inside. How can Cam say this is outdated and unnecessary? Even if you’re not religious, what can be more touching and affirming than standing before your friends and family and declaring that you love this person and you want to stay with them for the rest of your life?
Behind Belle, the groomsmen leave the bridesmaids and take their places in the pews. This time, Henry sits on the other side from me, which I’m kind of relieved about. I’ve already compared him to the sun, and I feel myself turning to a crisp when he’s in the vicinity. I adore that he’s larger than life, passionate and fierce in his affections. It’s what I’ve always wanted—to be admired and adored. But I need time. Robert Burns said ‘My love is like a red, red rose,’ and I feel the same, except my love for Cam is dying, and I’m waiting to snip off the dead bloom. A new one will grow, and I can already see the shoot. But it takes time to turn into a bud, and then a new flower. It needs careful nurturing, sun and rain. It’ll happen. But you can’t rush these things, and Henry needs to accept that if he wants to be with me.
Still, as I watch Damon slide a ring onto Belle’s finger, I remember Henry’s insistence that You’re not his. You’re mine, and I intend to put a ring on your finger so he and everyone else can see that. Will we be standing here one day, before our friends, promising to love one another till death parts us?
Emotion rushes through me, and when I glance at Aroha, I see her eyes glistening, too. There’s magic in the words, in the rings, in the motes of dust dancing in the jeweled light, and in the happiness that everyone’s feeling today. I lift my face, hoping some of it lands on me.
*
After the service, we go outside for the photos. Henry’s kept busy organizing guests, and I have a feeling he’s also giving me a little space. So I mingle and chat, and then we make our way to the vans, which take us all back to Brooklyn Heights. Today it’s a sit-down do, and place names dictate where we sit. Henry’s on the same round table as me, but across the opposite side, so we don’t get much chance to talk.
Later, after dinner and the speeches, we all head down to the next terrace where there’s a live band and a DJ, and the dancing is soon underway. I dance with the girls, while the sun slowly sets and the fairy lights flicker on. And then after a while, the music changes to Eric Clapton’s Wonderful Tonight—an oldie but a goodie—and couples slowly take to the floor. I watch Damon and Belle in the center, arms around each other, talking and laughing as they turn to the music. Alex dances with Missie, James comes and takes Aroha’s hand, and Gaby and Tyson turn together.
When Henry comes up to me and holds out his hand, I don’t hesitate to slide my fingers into his and let him lead me onto the dance floor. He holds my right hand and rests his other hand on my waist, and I rest my left hand on his shoulder, and we start moving to the music.
After a while, he slides his hand around to my back, pulling me a little closer. I look up at him, and his eyes are gentle.
“Hey,” he murmurs.
“Hey.”
His thumb strokes my hand where he’s holding it. “I want to say I’m sorry,” he states.
“What for?”
“Coming on a little strong.”
I inhale, then let out a long breath.
“I know you need time,” he says. “And I know I can’t force things.”
I look into his eyes, my heart swelling with feelings for him. “Thank you.”
He continues to study me as we move from side to side. “That doesn’t mean I’ve ruled out handcuffing you to the bed.”
I giggle. “Fair enough.”
He grins. Then he sighs and pulls me close. “Nobody’s watching,” he says. And he’s right—everyone’s caught up in themselves. So I rest my cheek on his shoulder and enjoy being close to him.
“I just want more,” he murmurs. “Sex is great. It’s fantastic. But I want more than that. I want to be with you. I want to hold your hand in public, and go out for dinner together. To wake up with you every morning and go to bed with you every night.”
I don’t say anything to that, because what could I possibly say? It’s all I’ve ever wanted, and it’s up to me to make it happen.
*
The next few hours are filled with dancing, eating, drinking, and laughing. It’s great to be around all my friends, and to make some new ones. I haven’t spoken much to Saxon and Kip’s wives, and so I spend some time chatting to Catie and Alice, and promise to visit them both next time I’m in Wellington.
I don’t dance with Henry again, but I watch him throughout the evening. He moves through the crowd, checking that everyone has drinks, handing out shawls to some of the older guests as it grows cool, and asking women to dance, so nobody’s left sitting on their own. Luckily, Kait has found herself a partner for the evening, a lawyer by all accounts, so Henry’s obligation there has finished. But he dances with grandmas and maiden aunts and single moms and teenage girls, and I can see they’re all half in love with him by the time he takes them back to their seats.
I start thinking about what might happen when we get back to the hotel. I shouldn’t go to his room again. But I will. I know I will. I won’t be able to resist the opportunity to get him into bed again. Just thinking about it makes a shiver run through me.
Maybe I’d be more reluctant if I’d heard from Cam. If he’d called or messaged me, telling me he loves me and that he can’t wait for me to come home. But my phone is silent, the love we had so cool now it’s practically frozen over.
When we get back, I’m going to tell him that we’re done.
I make the decision as I watch Henry dancing with one of Damon’s aunts, making her laugh as they turn around the dance floor. I want my future to be with Henry. With a man who loves me with all his heart, and who wants to dedicate his life to making me happy. Maybe that’s selfish, but I don’t care. I’ve spent too long being unhappy, listening, trying to understand, and talking, talking, talking. I don’t want to talk anymore. I just want to be loved.
And once that realization hits me, I know everything’s going to be okay.