Chapter Forty-Six #2
She scrunches her face up, hits my chest. “Perv.”
I laugh and then we leave, back into the car and over to my parents.
Delphine answers the door as usual, embraces Phoebs, gives her a kiss.
“They’re in the living room,” she tell us, taking our coats.
“How are they?”
She looks at me, sighs a bit. “They’re good, they’re okay.” And then she smiles, points at me. “Just don’t rile them up.”
“When have I ever done that, Delphine?”
She rolls her eyes, slaps my arm.
“Phoebe!” Mum gasps when we walk in. She goes straight over to her, wraps her up in a hug. “Long time no see, my darling.”
Phoebe smiles, bows her head when Mum pulls back. Dad sits on the couch, hand rubbing his jaw as he stares at us.
“It hasn’t been that long,” Mum tuts. “No need for formalities.”
High tea has been set out on the coffee table between the couches and she waves us over. Phoebe sits next to Mum while I sit opposite, besides Dad.
“So,” Mum claps. “Where to begin?”
“When are you getting married?” Dad interrupts before anyone can say anything else.
Phoebe’s cheeks go beetroot red and I turn to face him. “What?”
“Well,” he shrugs, sits forward. “Before babies, marriage comes, does it not?”
“Oh,” Phoebe shakes her head, pulls an uncomfortable face. “We’re—I’m—not pregnant, Benjamin.”
He gives her a once over with his eyes while Mum sits there, fiddling with her hands in her lap. “Good because you’re not married.”
“We know how it works,” I tell him, frowning.
It’s a relatively new law, put in place in our family after Theo.
Something Nan and Grandad decided on after they blamed his death on Mia having a child before they were married.
It doesn’t make much sense but not much does when you’re grieving.
If Phoebe was pregnant right now, we’d have to get married within the next few weeks before anyone found out.
And if we didn’t, we’d both be cut off and I’d be forced to leave the family.
“We won’t have to worry about that,” Phoebe says quietly.
“Oh, no, why?” Mum frowns, facing her. “Are you having trouble in the bedroom?”
“Mum!”
Phoebe laughs. Not awkwardly. Just laughs. “No, Sophia, it isn’t that but babies just aren’t on the cards for us at the minute.”
Dad’s eyes ping-pong between them. “But they will be, right?”
I run a hand down my face. Everytime I come here, I fucking regret it. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“You’ll need an heir,” he tells me plainly.
I shift in my seat, further away from him. “And what if she doesn’t want children?”
“Why would she not want children?” Mum asks, smile on her face. “Having a child is the most magical thing that can happen to a woman.”
“Because it’s the fucking twenty first century and if she doesn’t want a child I won’t put one inside of her—and if I do accidentally then I’ll take her to the clinic myself if that’s what she wants!”
Dad scoffs. “No you will not.”
“If she wants an abortion, you won’t let her get one?”
He gives me a stiff shake of his head. “No.”
“Well, good job that it isn’t your decision to make, then, isn’t it?”
“Arthur!” Mum cuts me up. “Stop it, will you?”
“It’s not me!” I point at my dad. “It’s him—stuck in his ancient ways!”
Phoebe’s awkward laugh cuts through the air. “Can we stop discussing my uterus, please?” We all turn to look at her. “I’m not pregnant nor will I be needing an abortion anytime soon. Excuse me,” she stands up, runs her hand down her dress and then walks away.
It wasn’t lost on me—the fact she can’t have children—but I just don’t know what will happen if I tell my parents that.
Mum would be more understanding since she’s a woman but Dad?
He wouldn’t. He’d probably forbid me from marrying her.
It’s an old school way of thinking. There’s no point in trying to educate him now.
It’s not like Mum can have any more kids.
Mum clears her throat. “You will propose, though, won’t you?”
“Yes! When she’s ready!”
“Alright,” she holds her hands up. “Take a deep breath, darling, calm down. We’re just talking hypotheticals.”
“He’s not,” I nod over at the man next to me. “He’s talking bullshit.”
“Arthur,” she mutters, shaking her head.
When a few more minutes pass and Phoebe doesn’t come back, I go and look for her.
She isn’t in the downstairs toilet because no one in their right mind uses that toilet.
I do, however, find her sitting on my bed.
I go in without thinking, only realising that I’m in there when I’m sitting on the bed next to her.
The walls are bare, the furniture is collecting dust and the only thing that’s still left are the sheets on my bed.
She doesn’t even look at me—might not even know I’m right here—before she starts breaking down into quiet sobs.
“Sorry.” She turns her face to look at me, her chin wobbling, her cheeks red, her eyes glazed. “I’m sorry I can’t give you what you need.”
I frown for a second, take her face between my hands. “You’re not running away this time, Phoebe. I fucking mean it. We’re staying. We’re not going anywhere.”
“But—” she sniffs, shakes her head. “This isn’t going to work. You need a baby—you deserve that, Arthur, and I will never be able to give it to you.”
“There’s no ‘buts’ this time. I’m determined to stay.
I don’t care how hard it’s going to be, Phoebe, don’t you get that?
I don’t care. I don’t care that you can’t have children.
Having a child isn’t your whole worth—we learned that in school—you can be more than a mother.
I saw it today, in the store, looking at what you created.
That’s all you. If you want children then there are other ways.
We can try all the avenues if that’s what you want.
It’s going to be hard but I’m going to work through it every fucking day because I want you.
I love you. Before, then, now, all the time. ”
She cries harder, folds herself into me.
I rest my chin on her head. “When have things ever been easy between us? Easy isn’t us.
Hard and impossible, that’s what we are.
But,” I pull away from her, look her in the eye.
Makes me sick what I’m about to say. “If you wanna leave—if you think you can’t do this, then you can leave, Phoebs.
I’ve waited for you before, I can do it again. ”
“No,” she sobs, grabs onto my shirt. “Not again.”
“Alright,” I lick my lips, nod. “Then we make it work, don’t we? That’s what we do. It’s going to be the hardest thing we’ve ever done, but we’ll do it because we’ve managed every other hard thing so far.”
“Yeah,” she swallows, nods, pulls me down to her. “I love you so much,” she cries, her tears catching in the corner of her mouth. “I want nothing more than to make this work.”
“It will,” I assure. “The proof is right there. We can do it again.”
She nods against me, rests her head on mine.
And then the weirdest fucking thing happens.
She kisses me, I kiss her back because kissing her adds years onto my life and then we have sex in my childhood bedroom.
When I reach into my bedside drawer, she shakes her head, tells me to not worry and it fucking splits my heart in two.
I’m more than aware of the fact my parents are downstairs but it’s not the kind of sex you’re thinking of.
It’s meaningful, slow. Every stroke, kiss, touch, tear that touches my cheek is confirmation.
Confirmation that this will work. Maybe I didn’t need the confirmation but she did, so I give it to her.
I’ve known since I was five that there was no one else for me.
Not a single fucking person on this planet is my person—but she is.
She snatched up that place before anyone else could even get a look in.
She sits inside of me, curled around my heart, manually making it beat because without her, I don’t think it would.
She saved me at thirteen when my brother died, again at eighteen when I hit rock bottom and now at twenty-two when things are spiraling so fast out of my control that not even I can grab ahold of them.
Throughout my whole life, she’s been the only constant, the only thing I’ve been able to keep.
I can’t afford to lose her.