Chapter Twenty-Four
Haze
Tonight, I was facing an inescapable torture.
An evening with Frederica and her friends planning the school play after-party.
Frederica had somehow tracked down my carefully protected phone number and demanded my attendance at a wine bar in town.
I had felt guilted into going only because I didn’t want to ever be accused of letting Bibi down in any way—and really, when you factored in all I’d already sacrificed for my children, you might as well add “night out with a bunch of women I didn’t know” to the list.
I scanned my wardrobe. What did I want to present as?
What outfit said what I didn’t want to have to say out loud?
If Frederica opted for leather trousers when she was picking up her kid from school, I presumed her eveningwear would be even more over the top.
Fuck it. I hadn’t had a night out in ages.
Who cared if it was with a bunch of mums, in a naff wine bar to talk about how many bags of Kettle Chips to buy.
I had clothes that deserved to be worn. I settled on a pale blue Stella McCartney jumpsuit and chunky heels.
If I was going to be bored shitless, I could at least do it looking fabulous.
I stomped downstairs to the kitchen.
“Whoa! Look at you! We got plans tonight?” A sweaty Fox was in his gym kit, glugging a large glass of water.
“No, it’s a school thing. With some of the other mums.”
Fox gave me another once-over. “Really? Not a secret date with another man?”
I let the question hang in the air for a second as Fox’s grin grew more and more fixed. He was trying, but the whole Danny thing had clearly knocked him.
“Are you going to be okay with Reggie?”
Fox blinked at me. “Of course! I know what to do.” He counted on his fingers. “Which bottle is best, what temperature to warm the breast milk to, how he only likes feeding when his head is on the left arm, the mid-feed burp, sit with him until it’s empty, even if it takes an hour.”
I nodded. “You know all this—just not at two in the morning?”
“I…I think that’s when he just needs you. The boob is more comforting.”
“We’re meant to be in this together.”
“And we are!”
“Really? When was the last time you did a grocery shop? Or made us dinner? Or practiced Bibi’s spellings?”
Fox ran a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry. I’ve been all caught up in everything I had going on.”
“I let you indulge in all your me-time activities before Reggie was born, as I knew you needed to recover. But he’s here now, and I can’t do all this without you.”
Fox slumped back against the kitchen sink.
“I get that Italy was awful for you. But it wasn’t exactly fun for me either, and you don’t see me taking a day off to talk about my feelings.”
I was fed up with cutting him slack. It was time to tighten it.
“I’m trying to heal! Sally is—”
I cut him off. “Sally is not the answer! You don’t need therapy. You need to get back to doing what you do best. Throw yourself into your work, into your children, into me.”
I let him take this in.
“Live your life. Don’t hide from it. You don’t see me indulging in dumb shit to try and make myself feel better.”
“You can find new hobbies too!” He stared at me with the utter idiocy of a man who thought that if I took up knitting, life would get easier.
“I don’t have time for hobbies! I’m a mother!”
My raised voice had him retreating.
“I’m sorry. Really sorry,” he said. “I’m going to do better.”
“Please stop saying that you’re going to do better, and start actually showing up.” His head dropped but I wasn’t done. “I want to know I can rely on you. For holding the baby and holding the knife.”
We observed each other silently.
He was my partner in life, and my partner in death. I couldn’t keep doing it all alone. The stakes were higher than they’d ever been. This time, we weren’t chasing bad men—the bad men were chasing us.
“You need to get your shit together. We need you.”
Fox looked around the kitchen. “I’ll start with tidying up in here.”
This was encouraging.
“While you’re out at this school thing. With just other mums.” He stared at me as he gave my outfit another once-over.
I put him out of his misery. “The Leather Trousers Mum organized it.”
“Gotcha.” He knew how much she annoyed me. “You’re really showing her.”
I didn’t know if it was good or bad that, despite everything I had going on, I could still find the time and inclination to one-up a woman from the school gates.
I watched as he downed the rest of his water. I felt better for having said everything that had been roaring around in my head for the last few months. But had I got through to him?