10. Iris
Iris
T his morning couldn’t have been any more different from the previous day. I phoned the cottage hospital where I had my scan booked in for another fortnight’s time and asked if there was any chance we could come in this morning, basically explaining that the father of my baby was about to have a conniption because he was clearly worried.
The midwife I spoke to found it funny, mainly because she’d met Gully before – who hadn’t – and she loved his books. I promised her a signed copy of his latest and demanded the car keys off my baby daddy, because he was in no fit state to drive the car.
He’d spent the night not letting me go, which I wasn’t complaining about. It was a long time since I’d been held through the night like that and Gully was an easy person to sleep with; no snoring, no massive movements or talking in his sleep, he was just a hugger.
This morning he’d been quiet, which was unGully-like and while I wasn’t worried about the change in routine from morning to evening sickness, there was no way we were going to have a nice time in York with him moping.
He needed to see our baby. He needed that reassurance. Weirdly, given how worried I’d been before the positive pregnancy test, I wasn’t worried now. I knew I was still pregnant, I knew our baby was growing inside me – I could just tell.
The drive to the little cottage hospital wasn’t a long one, just a few winding roads which Gully said were making him feel nauseous and he wasn’t worried at all.
I wasn’t buying that. He was tapping on the side of the car seat and his leg was jumping like he was playing a drum kit, the least composed I’d ever seen him, including the day of the implantation.
The midwife, Carole, met us at reception, keeping cool in front of Gully until we were in one of the rooms, which was surprisingly light and airy.
“I love your books. I never read any crime fiction until you came to the island and now I’m addicted. What happens to Joe in the next book? Will anything actually happen with him and Charlotte?”
It was the best thing that could’ve happened, because Gully loved talking about his characters and stories, so he was nicely distracted while Carole spread some (very) cold gel on my stomach and switched some screens on.
“Okay, let’s check the heartbeat first.” Her words were completely aside from the dialogue she’d been having with Gully about Joe’s next mystery. “Here we go. Do you hear that?”
I did, a booming sound that filled the room and my heart. I didn’t try to stop the tears or the smile, and neither did Gully. He looked shocked, overwhelmed and I wondered whether he was going to replicate Finn and faint at some point.
“The baby’s okay?” He looked at Carole as if she’d just relit the moon.
“Your baby’s got a lovely strong heartbeat. It’s just where I’d want it for week ten, so all’s very good there. Shall we have a look while you’re here and you can see.” She was focusing on the screen now, pressing a few buttons and then something else was placed on my stomach.
My attention was caught by Gully, who just looked gobsmacked and on the verge of tears. His hands were pressed deep into his pockets and he seemed unsure where he wanted to look, glancing back and forth between me and the screen.
A few seconds later and we were both fixed on the screen. Gully had loosened his hands and they were holding mine, both of us spellbound with the moving jellybean on the screen.
“There’s your baby. Measuring well, looking lively. I’d say you shouldn’t have anything to worry about, just take care of yourself, eat well, have fun – growing babies like it when their mummies are happy, lots of good hormones for them – be as active as you can while being sensible and that’s your job being done well.” Her smile was beaming. “I love this part of my job.”
“So the baby’s healthy. She’s well?” Gully didn’t look away from the screen.
“Everything is as I’d want it to be at this stage.” Carole’s tone was calm and friendly, motherly in lots of ways. “Things can still happen, but the longer you go, the less likely. I know this is an IVF baby, but everything the clinic has sent tells us that you shouldn’t have any more complications than a couple that’s conceived through natural means. There’s no reason to unnecessarily worry; enjoy being pregnant as much as you can.”
“Iris was sick at a different time yesterday, does that mean anything?” He was still panicking.
Carole shook her head. “Not necessarily. Things can change in pregnancy. Hormones vary, there are lots of factors, but don’t overthink any of it. Be concerned if there’s a lot of sudden blood loss – a little bit of spotting isn’t unusual – or cramps. The second trimester, which you’re heading into, is when you’ll feel more energised and active.” Her eyes twinkled. “Your sex drive will increase as well. Make the most of it because after your baby’s here, it’ll probably be the last thing on your mind.”
“Unless you’re my sister-in-law.” Gully finally broke out of his shock-induced silence. “She got pregnant with her second two months after she’d had her first.”
More twinkling eyes. “I remember. It does happen. And I take it you had some embryos frozen for the future? In case you want more babies after this?”
I looked at Gully. We’d only skirted over this briefly in the clinic when they’d told us how many viable embryos had been made. Because of my age and health, we’d been advised to just have the one implanted. If I’d been older or there’d been concerns about my ability to carry a baby, we’d have tried more.
“We have more for the future.” Gully looked at me and finally smiled. His grip on my hand had relaxed some. “I think we’ll decide what happens if we survive having one.”
Carole laughed, pressing another couple of buttons. “Sensible. I’ve printed a few copies of this out for you, but you can take a video of your baby too. It’s a nice record.” She assessed Gully. “You said she before. Was there a reason?”
He looked stunned for a moment. “No, I just – I don’t know.”
“Would you prefer a girl?” I wished I had hold of my camera so I could take a photo of his expression right now.
He focused on me and shook his head. “I don’t care. As long as you and they are healthy, that really is all that matters.”
Carole smiled again, this time at me. “You’ll have your next scan at twenty weeks, unless there’s any reason for another before then. You can find out at twenty weeks what the gender is if you want. That’s up to you.”
“We’ll talk about it.” I watched Gully take his phone out and start to video the screen. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to know or not, but I was curious why Gully had said she . The idea of him holding our baby was a heady one and did things to my insides that made my heart melt; the idea of him with a daughter, knowing how protective he’d be, made me smile a little bigger.
“I’m going to be a dad.” He looked at me, stopping filming. “Our baby’s going to call me daddy.”
I started to laugh, he was impossibly lovely right now, all thrilled and excited. “That’ll include when they’re seventeen and need a lift home at one o’clock in the morning, or they want money for something like a new pair of trainers.”
He looked soppy and daft.
“You’re going to say yes every time, aren’t you?”
He shrugged. “Maybe not every time. But most. Probably.” His eyes shone, still teary. “I’m still going to worry.”
“I think that’s every parent’s job. I don’t think that’ll stop. But we can relax now. Everything’s okay.”
He nodded. “More than okay. It’s fucking amazing.” There was more in his eyes now, more than happiness and excitement.
And it was all for me.
It was a four hour journey, more or less, to York from Anglesey, most of it on A-roads rather than motorways, meaning the scenery was pleasant and worthy of a few stops for me to take photos. The rain had blown off, leaving us with a mild day, but given the scan this morning, the weather wasn’t dominating our conversation.
We talked about the baby in real terms now. Having seen them on screen and heard their loud, fluttering heartbeat, it felt very real and very amazing. We talked about names for the first time, both of us adamant that if it was a girl, she wouldn’t be called after my sister, unless it was for a middle name. Gully had a thousand and one cousins, all of whom had children themselves, and he didn’t want to duplicate names, which ruled a lot out. By the time we reached York we were no closer to having a shortlist, but that didn’t matter because it would be months before we needed to make any decision.
York was as I remembered it at first glance. The landscape changed from fields and moors to villages and towns and then the city walls, the ancient architecture and millenniums of history. I’d first come here on a school trip as a teenager, and had then spent some weekends when I was a student, staying with a friend who was studying at the university here. At one point, there had been a pub for every day of the year and maybe there still was – this wouldn’t be the trip when I found out.
We checked into our hotel and it was confirmed – we did have just one room.
I calmly focused on Gully in the lift on the way up to our floor. “Are you still trying to see who breaks first?”
He smirked, almost back to normal since the scan this morning, just with a spring in his step and a glint in his eye that I was falling in love with even more than I already had done. “It’ll be you, of course.”
I shook my head. “I have the resolve of a thousand female ancestors, all giving me their strength to block out the power of your dick.”
He laughed, wrapping a hand around my waist and pulling me closer for a hug. “They’re going to advise you to give in and enjoy it at some point soon.”
“Why the one room?” I wanted to see inside his head at some point.
“Because I’m not going to leave you alone in a strange place however capable I know you to be. You’re mine, and I look after what’s mine.”
I pinched his nipple through his T-shirt. “I’m not a possession, Mr Alpha.”
He grabbed my hand, holding it to his chest, just over his heart. “I know that’s how you see it. I know you’re capable – more than capable. I also know exactly how I feel and part of that is doing everything I can to look after you and make you happy.”
My eyes were blinking because of dust in the lift, not because of what he’d just said.
Honest.
“That’s some elevator pitch, Gulliver.”
His smile was soft and full, rather than a smirk. “My aunt Marie properly met her husband Grant in an elevator in New York. It got stuck for over an hour and by the time they got out, she’d agreed to marry him.”
I frowned. “What?”
Our lift thankfully stopped at the right floor and opened. Gully took my hand and the suitcase in his other.
“They were working opposite side of a commercial litigation case. She was fairly newly qualified, he was the rising star of the comm lit world and was licenced to practice in England and in New York. They went out to get each other for the first few days of the case, and then they were stuck in a lift.” He shrugged. “She transferred to his firm – in fact, the firms merged, which is why it’s called Callaghan Green – and moved here, taking on Uncle Grant and his four kids, who were all under eight.”
“Wow. She must’ve been head over heels for him. That’s huge.” I paused outside our hotel room door.
“That’s what she apparently said to my mam.” He made a face that expressed utter disgust. “She was dick drunk.”
I tipped my head back and laughed, hoping no one was trying to grab an afternoon nap because it came out pretty loud.
“Are you worried about that happening to me? Is that why you’ve created this battle of begging?”
He gave me a look that needed a health warning, such was the level of sex it contained. “You’re already dick drunk and it’s been two years since I’ve been inside you.”
A door opposite us opened and a woman’s head popped out.
“For the sake of my husband’s heart, get inside your room and carry on word fucking each other in there!”
We kind of unpacked, freshened up and headed off around York, the weather staying clear enough for us to go up Clifford’s Tower – Gully headed to the top while I wussed out not fancying the heights. Instead I headed to Fairfax House, which gave me Bridgerton vibes. We found a restaurant specialising in South Indian food and ate there, before heading back to the hotel because it felt like the long day it had been. We talked about Ivy, but about her life and not her death, remembering her as she’d lived and loved and been one of the most complex people I’d ever known, and we talked about the bump, however tiny they were right now, in a few weeks they’d be a bigger bump until at some point I wouldn’t be able to see my toes.
That night he curled around me again, ignoring the fact his dick was hard against my ass and I would’ve been more than happy to accommodate it, but I was too tired to instigate any more banter, and for whatever reason, he was quiet, only commenting briefly that my evening sickness hadn’t happened.
He also didn’t sleep well. When I woke, disturbed by being in a strange bed and in a room that was too hot and stuffy, he was awake, quietly holding me – which probably added to the heat – and I could almost hear him thinking.
“You’re going to be tired in the morning.” I turned over in his arms to face him, kicking the covers further down because all I needed was his body heat.
A kiss was pressed gently to my head. “I’ll sleep now. I was just thinking.”
“I could smell the burning.” The joke didn’t quite fall flat, but he did drift off to sleep, the smoothness of his breath and the relaxing of his muscles soothing me back into a sleep which was free from dreams and any other disturbances.
The tension between us was still there, a battle of wills which I was coming close to conceding. The small touches, the soft kisses and the lingering looks were teasing me to distraction, and I wanted to do something with that fire they were fuelling. My mind had wandered too many times to New Orleans and the night we’d spent fucking each other’s brains out in a tiny, humid hotel room, and I wanted more.
So very much more.
Gully was distant during our second day in York. We went to the Castle Museum and Jorvik, taking the ride round the Viking village that incorporated what the smells would’ve been like in that period, smells which I found strong enough to make me feel like I was going to vomit most of the way round.
I found a café afterwards, and Gully disappeared because there was ‘something he needed to do’. I didn’t ask questions. We were spending so much time together a little space would be healthy, even if it was just for an hour or two, so he went and did whatever it was that he needed to, and I headed to York Minster, taking part in half an hour of a four hour tour and then soothing my soul with photographs, capturing light and dust that gave the photos a painting-like quality even before I’d edited them.
I saw parents with a baby strapped to the dad’s chest, his gaze at his child making him look like he had his entire world with him and my eyes grew wet when I saw him circle his partner’s shoulders with his arm, a moment I wished I could capture on film, but instead I stored it in my head, replacing their faces with that of mine and Gully’s, my hand on my stomach as I thought what was growing in there.
I found Gully near the Shambles, a narrow street that could’ve been out of Harry Potter. He was looking in the window of a shop that sold pasties, which could suggest he was hungry, but was more likely to be something to do with a character arc or plot development.
I was gathered up in his arms when he saw me, and he clearly wasn’t bothered about public displays of affection when he captured my mouth with his, the kiss probably a little too long for the good people and tourists of York.
“What was that for?”
“I missed you.” His arms stayed around me. “How was your afternoon?”
“Good,” I nodded. “Photos and site seeing and milling around. What did you get up to?”
“I had a purchase to make.” His grin was devilish. “I’m not telling you what.”
“I’ll find out at some point.”
“I’ll tell you at some point. But not today. Want to go back to the hotel for a bit? Freshen up?” We’d started to walk in that direction.
“Is that a code word for sex? Freshen up?”
His smile was one of my favourite sights, more so than any sculpture or landmark or place.
“No. You haven’t asked nicely enough yet.”
I shook my head. “This could be a very sexless few years if you don’t give in.”
That earned me a laugh. “We only get one more first time.”
“What do you mean?” His words sounded like an ending. Panic rose faster than the River Ouse during storm season.
“After you’ve lost your mind with the vast number of orgasms you’ll receive when I’m inside you, that’ll be it. No more two-year droughts from my dick. No more second first times. We only have one of these.” He looked almost wistful at the thought.
I paused, thoughts rapidly circling in my head, some of them not so good.
“We can co-parent without being in a relationship, you know. Like we said at the start. I’d rather you break my heart now if you don’t want a – a commitment with me.” My eyes were teary again.
Gully stopped walking. “What?” He frowned at me, his expression furious. “Why would you think that?”
“If you’re, I don’t know, not ready to settle down. You want more first times.” I swallowed, trying not to cry because that would be pathetic.
Gully faced me, his hands going to my hips, steadying me firm, shaking his head. “’Ris, you’ve got completely the wrong end of the stick, so much that it’s a different stick in another country, possibly in a different time zone.”
“You were saying about this being the last first time - ”
“For us. I wanted us both to remember it, to be, I don’t know, desperate for it because we want each other not because we’re tied together forever and it’s convenient. I don’t want you to be with me because it’s convenient with me being the father of your baby. I want you to be with me because you’re in love with me.” He swallowed. “Like I’ve been in love with you for the last two years.”
York disappeared.
Whatever the weather was doing, it stopped.
The world’s axis got a little rusty because it stopped spinning momentarily.
“Two years?” It was all I could say.
Gully nodded. “Since New Orleans.”
“You never said anything.”
“I didn’t want to lose your friendship because when I said those words it would change everything. It’s just changed everything.”
“That’s why you agreed to be the dad.” It made sense. Lots of sense.
My heart thudded in my chest. Pieces of a jigsaw clicked together and I started to see a picture I very much liked.
“I wanted a kid as well. I wanted to be a dad so it made a lot of sense anyway. But yeah, I love you. I’ve loved you for a long time.” He didn’t look away from me, his expression more serious than I’d ever seen it.
I didn’t have the words so I threw my arms around his neck and crashed my mouth to his, glad when he held me a little tighter as I felt I was about to take off.
The kiss was fierce, without grace or sophistication, with desperate need instead, in the hope it would convey how I felt without the words. It took Gully all of about two point five seconds to take charge, directing the kiss to calm it, slow it down, remind us both that we were totally in public and now wasn’t the right time to cinder each other’s clothing.
Eventually we stopped, still holding each other, still looking in shock at each other because this had been a revelation that neither of us had been anticipating today, in the middle of a pretty city miles away from home.
“I hope you don’t mind, but I took a photo of your kiss.” A young woman, probably not much more than twenty, came up to me.
She took a second look and frowned. “You’re Iris Winter – the photographer Iris. Oh my god, I want to be you one day!”
We relaxed the hold we had on each other. Any further declarations would have to wait a short while.
“You want to be a photographer?”
She nodded enthusiastically. “I’m studying at university at the moment in London. I’ve been following your career; your work is phenomenal. I’m embarrassed to show you this – it’s just I actually read an interview with you and you said never pass up on a moment that should be captured, and that kiss – it needed to be captured. It was swoon-worthy.” She brought the picture up on her phone.
It was a really good photo, the depth and clarity perfect, and somehow she’d managed to focus so it captured the intensity too, the rest of the scene blurring around us.
“Portrait mode?”
She nodded. “And a couple of other tricks. I know it’s just my camera’s phone but it works well. Shall I send it you?”
“Please. How about I give you my email and if you’ve any questions you can ask me? I owe you for taking this.” It was a perfect picture, a perfect moment. “It was a really special moment that you’ve caught.”
She beamed. “I’m Layla Morton, anyway and I have a million and one questions. I promise I won’t stalk you.”
I gave her my email address, although she insisted on airdropping the photo to me now so I had it. I didn’t say no, wanting to set it as my wallpaper on my phone and everywhere else already.
“I feel like that was divine intervention or something.” Gully grinned at me when Layla left us. “The photographer being photographed.”
“It is an amazing photo. It’s perfect.” I looked away from my phone and at him. “Like what you said was perfect.”
He nodded, just once. “So we’re clear. You know I’m not interested in sleeping with or dating anyone else? Just you.”
“I understand.”
His smile came with a shake of his head. “If there are any words you’d like to say back to me, feel free. You know, it’s not like I’m out on a limb here, having just declared exactly how I feel about you.”
I was going to be smug for a while longer. “You know, I bet that’s really annoyed you.” We carried on walking in the direction of the hotel, heading to the bridge to cross over the River Ouse.
“What? That we were interrupted before you could tell me how I rocked your world?” Gully was grumpy.
“That Layla recognised me and not you.” I was definitely enjoying this now. It was usually Gully who was recognised and that was usually by women between the ages of twenty and sixty who all wanted to pander to his ego and tell him what a wonderful author he was and how he wrote their favourite books of all time.
He shrugged, his eyes bright. “It’s good for you to get a bit of attention from time to time, helps your self-esteem.”
I elbowed him hard in the ribs.
“Ouch!” He was laughing so I didn’t feel bad.
“Do you like that photo?” I wanted to bring the conversation back to that moment.
“I do. I love it as much as you love – come on, fill the gap.”
“Cheese.” I was trying hard not to laugh.
“Cheese? Come on, ‘Ris. Apart from bump, what do you love most in the world?”
“Are you being desperate on purpose, or do I really need to make you beg?” It was wonderful being able to turn the tables on him.
“Let’s not talk about begging. Come on, I need a shower.”
It was while he was showering I wrote him a letter, aware that he could shower quick and I wasn’t the fastest of writers, especially if I wanted it to be legible. I folded the letter up and placed it in his bag, making sure it stuck out enough for him to notice it easily. Gully was observant, there wasn’t much he missed, but knowing my luck he’d miss the note and I wanted him to read it while I was in the shower.
He came out with a towel wrapped low around his waist, the dark hair that was scattered over his chest denser within the ladder than ran from his navel to what lay below.
I knew what lay below. I’d felt it two nights ago when I’d made him come with my hand; I’d felt it against me when he’d held me; I’d felt it inside me two years ago.
“It’s rude to stare.” His grin was infuriating.
I shrugged. “I’ll be rude then. You could even take the towel off and let me have a proper look.”
He shook his head, still grinning. “We have a reservation in an hour. It’s about a fifteen minute walk. Does that give you long enough to get ready or shall I call and put it back if I can?”
“You’ve already booked something?”
He nodded. “I have.”
I frowned. “Okay. I’ll be ready.”