Chapter 7
At 8.45 the following morning, she found herself sitting on the side of Finn’s bed sipping a coffee and wearing one of his shirts, which was blue and made of the sort of high-quality cotton that crackled slightly.
It was turning out that far from being a day of leisure, Saturday was wall-to-wall action for Finn’s kids. Samantha had hip-hop in town at ten, Conor had football at eleven and Cici had choir at two.
‘So, children don’t have the weekend off anymore? I don’t remember having all those activities as a kid. The most exciting thing I remember was watching Swap Shop or Live and Kicking with a bowl of Frosties on a Saturday morning, then the afternoon being endless. Are kids never bored anymore?’
She watched the definition of his muscles under the pale, faintly freckled skin as he moved around the room without a trace of vanity or self-consciousness. He had a lean, toned physique that he seemed to take for granted as he chose his clothes for the day: Calvin Klein jeans and a dark-green hoodie. It didn’t seem fair, she thought, a guy could have twenty kids and it would never change his body. She took a sip from her cup and reflected on how intimate they had been last night and yet how strangely separate he felt this morning.
He sat down beside her on the bed, gripping his mug of coffee with both hands. She touched his hair, which was slightly standing on end. He was even better-looking up close in the daylight, she decided. He nodded and for a moment she had him back.
‘We didn’t have a damn thing to do, did we? And as for sports clubs, are you kidding, you had your bike .?.?.’
‘And your skates and your skipping rope. I don’t even remember what we did. Playtime was sort of endless, but it was great.’
‘It’s so different now. And no, kids never do seem to get bored, or exhausted.’ He leaned in and kissed her.
‘You’ve got to go,’ she reminded him. ‘Hip-hop at ten.’
At least that gave her some vestige of control in a situation where she was having the uneasy feeling of being in the way.
‘I know, sorry,’ he said.
She grabbed her clothes and made for the bathroom. Gazing at herself in the mirror, she let her shoulders droop. Who the hell was she? A questionable woman. She’d just slept with a man who, while definitely not exactly belonging to someone else, didn’t appear to be entirely free either, and who could only keep a thin slice of himself for her. He was supposed to be separated, but she could feel the pull of those other lives around him. On a happier note, she looked astonishingly well, probably the combination of hormones and excitement. They should bottle that and sell it. Every woman’s peak moment.
He was fastening on a high-tech-looking watch when she walked back into the bedroom.
‘Come here,’ he said. ‘I’m going to miss you.’
She could feel his voice resonating through her body.
‘I’d love to stay, you know that. I’ll call you later, OK?’
But already, she could feel he was in parent mode. That wasn’t a bad thing, she reminded herself. It showed character. It just trumped everything else.
He offered her a lift but, sure, couldn’t she cut through the apartments and across the park on foot. She flipped up the collar of her long wool coat around her face and waved sanguinely as he drove past in the black Ford Ranger with the rack of halogen lamps on the roof for his on-site work. God, even his car was sexy. He indicated briefly at the corner then disappeared out onto the road, leaving her feeling .?.?. bereft. That was absolutely ridiculous, she scolded herself, because what was he but an adult being a good dad? And here she was, like a sulky twenty-something, expecting him to lounge around in bed, have lazy sex and then trail out for some brunch around 2 p.m. Instead, he was on a timer. She’d timed out in his schedule and he’d moved on.