‘I am. I’m talking to you. And after that, I’ve got the new Brandon Sanderson, plus a giant box of Maltesers to eat while I’m reading it.’
‘While glancing at the clock every ten seconds, anxiously waiting to see if Ellis comes home?’ I leant back against the new cushion on my restored garden bench. It was a perfect summer evening, still light at nine-thirty and the air sweet and gentle.‘Swap the book for a film and throw in a tub of Pringles and you’ve just described my Saturday nights for the past five years. Minus the phone call. I’m not judging, but it’s not what you need right now. You should go out, somewhere you can forget about everything for a couple of hours.’
‘Libby Franklin, are you asking me out on a date?’ He replied using my maiden name, as if without thinking, but the words hung between us with the weight of a whole potential future.
‘Um…’ Was I? Did I mean with me? I stared up at the cerulean sky and tried to remind myself of all the reasons why now was not the time to get entangled in a heady romance. All I heard was an imaginary Nicky sarcastically pointing out that according to me there was never a good time, so I might as well choose a bad one.
‘I mean, I suppose I could find someone else to have fun with, if you think it would help…’
‘We agreed to keep it light. We can do a light date, can’t we? A walk or a drink somewhere wouldn’t be a big deal.’
What a fib. Any time with Jonah was a humongous deal. Let alone one classed as an official date.
Before I could wait for his reply, someone knocked on the front door.
Given how late it was, for a panicked couple of seconds I wondered if it was another Toby looking for a place to stay. Maybe word had got around that the antenatal teacher took in stray parents.
For another horrible moment I wondered if it was Mum. Then I heard an all-too-familiar voice calling out.
‘Liz? Libby? Lizbeth?’
Please, no.
‘Keep your voice down,’ I shout-whispered, rushing around the side of the cottage. ‘Finn and Isla are in bed.’
‘Liz. Oh, thank goodness. I really need to see you,’ Brayden whined, even louder.
I opened the front door then jostled Brayden into the living room. He was wearing a white shirt, unbuttoned halfway down his waxed chest, and a pair of red and yellow checked trousers that reminded me of Rupert the Bear. He’d clearly come straight from the wedding.
‘What the hell do you think you’re doing, turning up at my house completely bladdered?’
‘Sorry. Sorry. I’m sorry,’ he slurred, slumping onto the sofa, gripping his bowed head with both hands.
Closing the door into the hallway, I took a slow, practised breath. ‘Sorry about what?’
‘I don’t think I can do it.’
I was too irritated to start grilling him on something I had no interest in talking about, but he drivelled on anyway.
‘You were right, last week, about when the kids were born. I flaked. It was so much pressure, you know? Like, my youth was over. Boom! I suddenly had no freedom. I was trapped. And no man can stand being trapped, Liz. It’s fundamental human nature. We instinctively fight to escape.’
‘Right. Despite all the dads who stay, and see their children as a joy and a blessing, rather than a prison,’ I said, with a hint of a growl.
‘Exactly!’ He waved a flaccid finger at me. ‘That’s it. All those other dads stay. But I couldn’t hack it. We were at this wedding, and it was all “I’ll love you forever and ever” and I started thinking about how I meant that, when I said it to you, but then as soon as Finn was born, I panicked. I know I was only a kid.’
‘You were older than me!’
‘But what if that wasn’t it? What if I just don’t like being a full-time dad? If Silva and me can’t have all the fun stuff, the parties and everything, then what if there’s nothing good left?’
‘Apart from a baby, you mean?’
‘Yeah. Apart from a baby I might not even like.’
‘And your two other children.’
‘Yeah.’
‘I’m going to ask you again, Brayden. Why the hell are you here, talking to me about this?’
