Chapter 33
Chapter thirty-three
Lance
As the elevator pings announcing our arrival at the correct level, the attendant bows a little. “Have a lovely evening, sir.”
I tell him the same and push David’s pram into the plush hallway. He’s sleeping soundly; hopefully, he will stay that way for a while. At least until I catch up with Katie properly.
The solid door with the brass room number looks uninviting.
For the first time, I consider this could be a bad decision coming here.
What do I look like, driving from Aviemore to Edinburgh with my newly adopted son to reconnect with a woman almost twenty years older than me, who I had a relationship with over a year ago?
When I say that to myself, even I think I’m a fruit loop.
But I’ve come too far now. Katie knows I’m here. She’s waiting for my knock on the door.
“Well, little man,” I say to my sleeping son. “Here goes nothing. If she kicks me out in five minutes, we’re going for a drink.”
I knock.
The hardwood door swings open, banging off the wall. My heart crashes along with it.
“Shit,” Katie mumbles, grabbing for the handle. Then our eyes meet, and she smiles shyly. My throat dries, the words locking behind my lips. Seconds feel like minutes as we both say nothing, staring at the person neither of us thought we would see again.
“Are you going to come in then?” she asks eventually, her tone sweet laced with feigned calm. The twitch of her lips says otherwise: she’s as nervous as I am. She steps back to allow me space to push the pram past her, never mentioning the fact I have a child I never used to.
Her room is huge, with a four-poster bed piled with tartan sheets and pillows. Two sofas sit around a large coffee table where piles of books are stacked. Above me is a light made from stags’ antlers, completing the rustic look of the room.
With David’s pram parked next to the sofa, I wander over to the books, picking one up to inspect it. She watches me intently as I flip open the pages, thumbing through, pretending to read. Buying myself some time before I need to speak. Before I work out what the hell to say.
I’m here because I love you.
Is that even true?
“I’m delighted for you, Katie.”
Simple, direct, and true.
I turn to face her. And my need for her blows my heart wide open, the false confidence I forced myself to have gone. I swallow. “Hannah told me you were doing well. Her mother’s a big fan.”
She laughs; my eyebrows rise.
“I’m not sure your ex-wife would be particularly thrilled to know that some of the scenes she reads in my books are inspired by you.” Her cheeks flush instantly.
I laugh softly, taken aback by her honesty so soon.
Even though it’s been a year, even though I’m nervous, her being here settles something deep inside me. A yearn I’ve been ignoring quieted, if only for now.
“Do you want something to drink?” she asks.
“Please. Tea if you have it.”
“Sure.” Her eyes stray to the pram. Katie can’t have children, and she finds other people’s a bittersweet experience.
It was something she spoke of often during our time together.
Guilt pricks at the back of my throat. I’m here, brandishing another child under her nose. Perhaps this was an unfair move.
She makes two mugs of tea, never asking what I take in mine.
I’m surprised she remembers how I like the teabag dunked in the hot water for a split second, the fact that I take three sugars and a huge blob of milk.
As crazy as it sounds, it gives me comfort that she remembers these little things.
Sometimes I wonder if the pedestal I placed our relationship on is a figment of my imagination or if the deep connection really happened at all. Today, proves it did.
She passes me the white mug of hot tea. Our fingers connect, and undeniable electricity pulses between us.
I find myself not wanting to break the physical connection—our hands drawn together like magnets.
She goes to sit on the sofa, her mug clasped firmly between her fingers.
Her gaze drops to the floor, then rises back to mine. I take the seat opposite.
“How come you’re in Edinburgh?” she asks. Her bluntness surprises me, my eyes pop wide. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to sound so sharp. I’m just amazed to see you. Of all the people in the world I thought I might see today, I never thought it would be you.”
Sweat beads on the back of my neck. Now is the time to be honest. Don’t tell lies that will trip you up. Hers did before.
“As I said, Hannah told me you’re doing well.
She told me about your book signing.” A smile plays on her lips, and she nods, encouraging me to continue.
“So, I drove down to see you. A lot has happened and...” I trail off, not knowing how to finish the sentence.
A lot has happened, and I realize life is too short is what I want to say, but my confidence nosedives. I stay mute.
“You came here to see me?” Her eyebrows arch as if hitting her hairline. “Thank you. It’s wonderful to see you. So, tell me about what’s been happening with you. Obviously, quite a lot.” She gestures to David, still dozing where I left him. “He’s beautiful, Lance. Just like his dad.”
“He’s not mine,” I splutter, and she relaxes, I think. “Well, not biologically. Dog had a holiday romance. His mother left him on my doorstep.”
“What?” she shrieks, making me wince. I lean over to check on David—still sleeping. “She left him on your doorstep? Where is she now?”
“David’s mom isn’t well, Katie. No one has been able to contact her since she left him. The police have listed her as a missing person.” I see her visibly thaw. “Amber and Dog had a brief fling in Ibiza last summer. I didn’t even know her surname until the social worker told me.”
There’s a knock at the door. Katie rushes over, and an attendant walks in with a bottle of wine. He pours two glasses, then leaves without uttering a syllable. Katie retakes her seat and lifts her glass in a silent toast before raising it to her lips.
“Where’s Dog?” she asks. And the familiar twist in my gut aches. I hate saying it out loud.
Her face turns worried. “Lance, why don’t you start at the beginning? I find that helps.”
Her words give me a sense of déjà vu. She said that to me before, one of the first times we met. Steeling myself to tell the tale I’m about to, I take a deep breath.
Katie rises from her chair and moves to sit beside me, placing her hand on my arm. I tense at her touch; she has so much power over me. My body reacts to hers on impact.
“It’s me, Lance. I’m the same person I was. You look like you need someone to talk to. I’m here.”
Sometimes actions really do speak louder than words. I lean forward and pick up the cuff of my trouser leg, pulling it upward to reveal the metal that is the replacement for the one I lost. She tenses beside me but doesn’t run.
Embarrassed, not able to look at her, I keep my gaze fixed on my leg.
“What happened?” she whispers, her voice cracking. Her hand tightens on my arm; I never want her to let me go.
I tell her everything. About Dog, my leg, the challenges with Hannah. David’s unexpected arrival in our lives. My rash decision to take him as my own. How I’d never change it, but it’s been the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.
She listens. Only encouraging me to continue with a soft murmur when I fall silent. My fingertips tighten as I deliver each blow. The horror that’s unfolded, and the good now coming of it.
“Lance,” she whispers, tears rimming her eyes. “You’re…”
“Still here. Alive,” I remind her. “Enough about me, I want to hear all about you.”
After a beat, she tells me about the unexpected success of her book and the exciting places it has taken her, the interesting people she’s met and the opportunities landing in front of her.
She doesn’t mention a significant person in her life, and it feels wrong to ask.
She tells me her name has been officially changed to Katie Clark.
Her past is now in the past. The line drawn in the sand.
David’s wailing interrupts our conversation; I go to him automatically, picking him up from his pram and sniffing his diaper.
“Urgh,” I balk. “Someone needs a change.”
Katie watches on raptly as I prepare his mat and change him on the floor. I move as smoothly as possible, which isn’t easy with my leg, but the process feels so natural. I’m just a dad caring for his baby boy. Once he’s fresh, I bring him to the sofa and hold him as he drinks his bottle hungrily.
“Can I hold him?” she asks quietly. A tremor beneath the words.
“Of course.” I smile softly, attempting reassurance.
She takes him into her arms like a woman who has done it a thousand times before, comfortable. David doesn’t make a sound, settling back to his bottle, pale pink lips suckling the nipple.
Katie and I continue to chat until the room phone rings, interrupting us.
She passes me my son back, almost sprinting to pick up the handset.
Her expression wavers as she answers, the flutter of terror I saw in her eyes back at the cottage a year ago returning for a moment. She twists a smile I don’t believe.
“I know. I’m sorry,” she squeaks. “I never switched it back on after the book signing. I’m sorry to worry you unnecessarily.” Whoever is on the other end responds. Katie winces. “Yes, I’ll call you later. Bye.” The words tumble one after the other, almost blending.
After replacing the handset, she comes back to the sofa. Lowering herself, her expression is somber.
“Everything all right?” Her demeanor is different—defensive and on alert. “Who was that?”
She shakes her head. “Nothing,” she mumbles, but won’t meet my eye. Not wanting to upset the moment, I don’t push her. I’ve been enjoying her company; I don’t want today to end poorly.
“When do you leave?” I ask. A pang of sadness creeps in as I realize this may be the last time I see her. Ever.
“Tomorrow.” Her eyes brighten a little. “Can we keep in touch?” Her words come fast, as if she says them before she can think twice about the question.
“I’d like that.” I smile. “But I’ll need your number because I deleted it. I couldn’t trust myself not to call you.”
She laughs, deep and hearty.
“Me too. I’ve missed you,” she says, leaning forward for a hug. We sit for a while, just enjoying the proximity of each other. The heat, the scent I’ve missed so badly, finally returned.
My temptation to kiss her is intense, but I hold back, not wanting to scare her off. Not wanting to hope too much and have my heart broken again.
“I have to get going,” I say. I need to get out of the room before I blow this completely. I’ve contacted her; she didn’t shut me out. I have no idea if we will ever have a relationship again, but trying to make a move on her today isn’t a good idea. I know that much.
After giving David a cuddle goodbye, she places him back in his pram and wraps his blanket around him with maternal care. We embrace and exchange numbers with a promise to call soon.
I leave the hotel, happy to have Katie Clark back in my life. But for how long, and in what role—neither of us know.