Chapter 22 #2
“That’s fine. If, and only if, you fancy a trim, we have the barber come in every Thursday. You just put your name down with your housemaster, and they will make the appointment. You can have your hair however you want.”
“I like Andrew’s hair.”
“Mr Andrew does have cool hair.”
“And I like…the clothes.”
“Thank you.” An admission. He’d been so overwhelmed in the shop that he’d not been able to say a word.
“Bailey, why don’t you have a memory box? I asked Mrs Patricks at social services where it was, and she didn’t know.”
He laughed.
“Stepdad… I think in Nottingham. Burnt it all because I’d wet myself. Made a big fucking bonfire. Mum just laughed.”
He didn’t even look emotional. I was, though, and it hurt. But yes. I needed to know these things. And fucking hell.
“See? Another good dad point. You ask questions I can answer. I hate when people ask things I haven’t got a clue about. Like, Bailey? How are you feeling? How am I supposed to know that? I feel like shit most of the time.”
“I know, I feel like shit a lot of the time too.”
“And you’re really sad sometimes. I can see that.”
Perceptive little shit.
“We’re all sad sometimes.”
“Yeah. Do you miss Noah?”
“I miss him a lot.”
“Then he needs to get up here and marry you.”
“Yeah.” I had to blink away a tear. I wasn’t sure if it was a sad one or just laughter.
“So, chicken curry, double paratha, a little bit of rice and…what do you say about…some spicy lamb chops?”
“Really spicy?”
“Can you handle it?”
“Try me.” He grinned.
It was much later when I finally crawled into bed, not wanting to change the sheets, but I still did. Bed clean and made, I dialled his number and then sat there with my heart in my throat. I didn’t want to cry but still had to swallow down far too many emotions at the sight of him.
“Hey,” he said softly.
“Fuck, I miss you,” came back. It was the truth.
He was smiling. I breathed. The stupid things I knew about him. I had no doubts. None left whatsoever.
This was very much me, heading straight into another disaster. But then he would say something and all those doubts would so easily trickle away.
“I love you,” he said, rubbing his face, the way he did when he got frustrated. “I love you, and it’s so bloody irresponsible to say something like that, and I should be saying it to your face and not over the bloody phone.”
Fuck. But…
“For fuck’s sake, Noah.” I grinned.
“You don’t have…”
“Shut the fuck up.”
“Language, Fox.”
“Don’t care.”
“I love you, and this is all so messy, but I have plans.”
“We have all the plans. When can you come back up here?”
“Soon. You can come down and see me too, but I know how busy you are. It’s not as easy for you to leave for the weekend.”
“No. But I would, for you. I can make it happen.”
“Good.”
“Noah?”
“Yeah?”
I was a mess, and I had to put the phone down for a second so I could wipe my eyes with the sleeve of my jumper.
Cold. I was cold, and he was not here and I wanted him to be, and for heaven’s sake, Bailey had got in my head and now I wanted to marry Noah and all sorts.
“I love you.”
There. I’d said it too, and the weight off my shoulders was immense. I knew I did; that was not the issue here, it was more acknowledging the fact. Making it real, when my entire purpose here was to not.
It was real. Everything was, and I had to start dealing with that.
“I love you,” I repeated. “I love you, and I want you here. Ideally, I want you to come up and move in with me and we get married and we’ll make a mess of everything. I have no doubt we will…”
“We won’t make a mess of anything. We haven’t so far, have we?”
“We’ve made a mess of a lot of things,” I said sternly.
“True…” he drawled, “But not of the important things. I love you. You love me. We’re too far apart for this to work, so we need to fix that. Do you agree?”
I nodded. Very vigorously. “You’re starting to sound like Bailey.”
“The kid who thinks he’s our son.”
“Yup. Still does.” I had to laugh, and he did too. “I spent the afternoon with him. Took him shopping, and we went for dinner. He can handle his spices. We had extra spicy chilli lamb chops, and he cleaned his plate.”
“Good.” He smiled. “I can see it, what he’s saying. And I know it’s a pretend fairytale, Fox, and a child’s imagination wreaking havoc here, but…you know. Maybe we should. I mean? What are our options here?”
“With regard to Bailey?” I sat myself up straighter in bed.
“No… Yes…but with regard to your life. You stay up there, single, live alone, and you see me once a month? How long will we be able to keep that up?”
“Not sure.” I was just being honest.
“That’s what I’m saying. I’m down here, I’ve never had a relationship, never found love, never done anything remotely whacky, and…now I want to. I want to do…”
“Midlife crisis. You’re having one, and you’re embracing it.”
“Abso-fucking-lutely.”
“Language, Noah.”
“I know,” he whined. “But I want it. I want to resign from the practice; it’s just a job. I can sit and listen to people’s woes and dodgy toenails and shitty hips anywhere.”
“Don’t put yourself down. You’re a qualified doctor with years of experience.”
“Yeah, but I’m also shit scared, Fox.”
“So am I,” I admitted.
“Do you want to? Do you see a future with me? I know all of this is new and exciting, but…”
“I can,” I admitted. “And I know what you’re saying, and my track record isn’t great. I rush into relationships, and then it all goes bad, but…”
“We wouldn’t go bad. Bailey wouldn’t let us.”
“And we’ll get married, and then apparently things don’t go south. Or whatever Bailey said.”
“He’s nuts.”
“I don’t blame him.”
“Did you speak to social services?”
“Yes,” I whispered. “And it’s, Noah, he’s pretty honest with what he’s saying.
He’s had a rough time, but he’s been messed around by adults his whole life.
And for the first time ever, he’s trying to choose something for himself.
Something he thinks will be good. He didn’t want to come here; they made him because it was either that or a group home where he’d already spent far too long.
They drove him here and dumped him, and now he’s had enough. ”
“I see that.”
“So…” I had to laugh. “Are you serious about this? Would you…actually?”
“Resign and rent out my house and move up there?”
“Yes? Something like that?”
“I…would take a career break. Six months. Rent the house out and move up with you. See if I can get a position somewhere, not too long a drive so I can be home every evening. Would the school even allow that, me living there?”
“If we’re married, yes.”
“We’ll get married then.”
“Just like that?”
“Yes,” I breathed. This was serious. Bloody serious. We were doing this?
“Then where do we start?”
“Getting a marriage licence is easy. We could just drive down to Gretna Green.”
“I’m not doing that, that’s worse than Vegas, and my parents would kill me.”
“Arguing already?” He was laughing, and I loved that.
“I’ll find out how to do it tomorrow. Google that stuff. And I’ll speak to the practice manager and get the ball rolling.”
“We’re getting married?”
“Fox.”
“Noah.”
“Don’t you dare propose to me over the phone.”
“Well, you said I love you over the phone?”
“This is going to end in disaster.”
“Yup. But it will be a good disaster.”
“Noah, will you marry me?”
He laughed. He couldn’t stop smiling. And he kissed the screen, like he was pretending I was right there.
I was. Right here.
“Yes. Absolutely, yes.”
“Good.”
“Fox Riley?”
“That’s me?”
“Wanna be my husband?”
“Abso-fucking-lutely.”
I blew him a kiss. Then I hung up on him because I had things to do. And I needed to sleep. Properly.
Which was when the door outside clicked, and little footsteps padded across the carpet. Small movements as I lay there wondering if I should get up, or just…let him.
I waited a bit, then snuck over to the door, just so I could see what he was doing.
All I could see was the new duvet I’d bought him. The cover neatly put on, a small blond head on the pillow, everything picture perfect on that sofa.
The light in the window on, the way I always left it.
And he tugged the duvet over his shoulder and wrapped himself up.
“Good night, Bailey,” I whispered.
He was already asleep.