by Carrie Elks
“I didn’t mean to wake you.” His voice was soft, his touch sure, as he sat down on the bed beside her. He was dressed, wearing just his pants and white shirt from the night before.
“You’re leaving?”
“I have a meeting at seven. I can’t get out of this one.” His words were laced with regret. Then he leaned and brushed his lips over her forehead, leaving a trail of ice across her skin.
“Oh.” She frowned, trying to think of a suitable response. It was like her brain hadn’t caught on to the fact she was awake yet.
“Can we meet this evening?” His mouth feathered her skin. “We need to talk.”
She gnawed at her lower lip, the reality of the situation hitting her like a curveball. There was so much to talk about. She didn’t know where to begin.
“I’ve got interviews all day. I’ll be free at six.”
“Interviews?” His forehead wrinkled. She reached out a finger to smooth them. Even the sensation of his skin against hers was enough to light her flame.
“For my replacement…bad timing right?”
The story of their lives…
“I’ll pick you up at six. Don’t make any rash decisions.”
“Why not?” The unspoken words were like a scab. She wanted to pick at it, make it bleed.
“Because I want you here with me.”
“I’m not a cheater, Richard, and neither are you.” Except they were. They both were.
The muscles in his cheek twitched as he looked down at her. In the half-light of the morning his skin looked warm and tan. She wanted to kiss it all over.
“When Meredith comes back next week, I’m going to tell her it’s over.”
Just like that, her heart felt like it had grown wings and flown out of her chest. Though welcomed, his words were like a bolt out of the blue. In the course of a day she had gone from having nothing, to possibly having it all.
They were so close.
“Okay.” Her words came out as a whisper, and she sat up, the sheets falling from her body to reveal her naked chest. The twitch in Richard’s cheek got stronger, and she rapidly grabbed the sheets and pulled them up to her shoulders.
“I want to touch you so badly,” he confessed, his hands balled into fists as if he were restraining himself. “But I’ve fucked everything up so far.”
“Richard—”
“No, hear me out. You know I love you, I’ve always loved you, and you don’t deserve to be anything but first in my life. I shouldn’t have slept with you while I was still with her.”
“You were drunk. We both were.”
“It doesn’t excuse anything.” He was agitated now, long fingers raking through his hair. “Let me try to fix this, let me do this right. Can we try to just be friends until next week?”
Hanna sighed, relief flooding her chest. “That sounds good to me.”
IT TOOK ALL day, but she finally found the right man for the job. Like Hanna, Paul Spence came from a music-journalism background, and his knowledge of the New York scene rivaled her own in its encyclopedic nature. She felt a little sad she wasn’t going to be working alongside him in New York. They’d hit it off from the start, and she’d spent half the interview asking him questions about the gigs he’d been to recently, arguing good-naturedly with him about the merits of various groups.
“It’s been a pleasure meeting you, Paul,” she said, as the elevator car arrived. “You’ll be hearing from us very soon.”
As soon as he walked into the elevator, she turned and made her way back to her office. She grabbed her coat, shrugging it on, excited that she only had half an hour before she would see Richard again.
How had she stood being apart from him for all this time? Like a sculptor, he had taken the dull-grey clay of her life and made it into something beautiful. She felt so alive.
It was five past six when her cell rang, and she tried not to smile when she heard the jarring chords of Last Night by the Strokes blaring out of her purse. Richard had been busy reprogramming her cell while she was asleep. She liked these flashes of humor, amongst the seriousness of their situation.
“Hello?”
“Hanna?” He sounded breathless. Beneath the timbre of his voice she could hear the familiar sounds of the city; humming motors, beeping horns and the perpetual drone of police sirens.
“Are you outside?” She didn’t bother to disguise her enthusiasm. She was just so damned happy.
“Sweetheart, there’s been a change of plan.”
“Oh?” The excitement poured out of her like sand spilling from a broken timer. “Are you still coming to pick me up?”
“Meredith’s been in an accident.” His voice was monotone. Hanna frowned for a moment, trying to think of something to say; a reassuring word, a peaceful sentence. But the only thing in her mind was pure, blind panic.
“I’m on my way upstate now. It sounds bad.” His voice cracked and she ached to touch him. Her hands curled around the thin air of her disappointment, a poor substitute for his body.
“I don’t know what to say, I’m so sorry.”
“I’ll call you when I know more. Give me some time, okay?”
She took a deep breath, letting the oxygen fill her lungs, holding it inside until the burning need to exhale took over her mind. Letting it out with a whoosh, she eventually calmed herself enough to reply.
“Concentrate on Meredith. Let me know how she is.”
“I love you.” His words were desperate. Hanna tried to hold on to them, like a child catching a bubble as it danced through the air. When she opened her hands she feared it would be gone.
“I love you, too.” There was nothing else to say. Her mind was bursting with the things she wanted to tell him, but they would have to wait. Now, she had to let him go. He still belonged to Meredith. Until he severed the tie, Hanna was the one on the outside looking in.
The guilt that she’d suppressed all day was growing like topsy in her mind, and she wondered if it was a judgment from above or just plain bad luck.
She began to suspect it was a little of both.
THE FOLLOWING WEEK, Hanna was leaving the office, pulling her coat tight to block out the wind. It was already getting dark; the evening sky was a cloudy grey, and though the weather was dry the air tasted of snow. She was going to miss the extreme highs and lows of living here—the stifling heat of summer, the bright oranges of the fall. London was a beautiful city—and the one closest to her heart—but Manhattan had been such a wicked love affair.
The wind was whipping up Second Avenue, and she turned up the collar of her coat, regretful she’d left her scarf in the office. A black sedan idled at the curb, grey vapor clouding from the exhaust, and she watched with interest as the back door opened.
“Hanna.”
Richard climbed out of the car, putting his feet on the sidewalk, and she found herself moving toward him. He looked so drawn; his skin was pale, his hair messed, and she wanted to throw her arms around him and pull him tightly to her.
“I thought you’d still be with Meredith.”
In the week since Hanna had last seen him, they’d only managed to speak on the phone a handful of times. Most of Richard’s day had been made up of sitting with his fiancée, sorting out her insurance, and arranging her transfer to New York. Perhaps that was why he was here.
“I’ve been interviewing nurses.” His voice was the same monotone she’d been hearing all week. It was like he was trying not to feel anything. “Meredith’s being helicoptered back tomorrow.”
“How is she?” It was a stupid question. They were both standing here, restraining themselves from touching each other. The only thing stopping them was Meredith’s health.
“Still not able to move very well, the doctors say we have to give it some time. They say with intense therapy there’s hope she’ll be on her feet soon.”
“That’s good news.” The wind lashed against her cheek, making her pink up. A solitary flake of snow fell in front of her eyes. Th
e thick clump danced in the air, in no hurry to reach the ground.
“I hope so.” He looked as awkward as she felt. Snow began to fall heavily. He cleared his throat, glancing up at the roof of her building, and she remembered he owned it. It was so strange, the way everything in her life led back to him.
“I’m leaving next week.” The agony of being unable to touch him was pulling at her soul. “But I don’t want to go.”
He was agitated, and she could see his eyes flash as he tried to calculate something in his mind. “Why don’t you get the hell over here?”
She was in his arms before he’d finished the sentence. It didn’t seem enough to just hold him tight, she wanted to climb inside him until they were one person.
“This is all so fucked up.” She looked up at him. His eyes were glistening, too.
“I have to help Meredith get back on her feet. She can’t live alone yet, she needs constant supervision.” He twisted his fingers in Hanna’s hair. “But once she’s up and healed, I’m going to tell her everything. Then I’ll be on the next flight to London.”
She dipped her head and nuzzled into his chest. His coat was slightly damp from the snow, and she could see the little beads of moisture clinging to the wool fibers. Those words were more than she had hoped for; it was almost a promise for a future that could be theirs. But the thought of enduring months of pain, of wondering, was too much to bear.
“I love you.” She ran her fingertips along the cold skin of his cheek. She paused for a moment, trying to think of the right words. “But we can’t carry on an emotional affair while you’re engaged to somebody else. I’ve been on the other side of that and it would kill me to hurt somebody else in the same way.”
His hold on her loosened. “I know. I’m such a shit.”
She tried to smile. “You aren’t. Circumstances could be better. At least we won’t be tempted to see each other.”
“They invented these little things called airplanes—”
“You know what I mean. While you’re still with Meredith we need to stop this thing. Come find me when things are better for you. I’ll still have the same address, and I know you have my cell number.”
“It could be months.”
“I’ll be there.”
He stood right in front of her, tipping her chin with his finger, lowering his own until his forehead was touching hers.
“You promise?” He was so close. She was losing herself in the green of his eyes. It took every ounce of willpower she had not to kiss him.
“I promise.”
Twenty
June 15th 2010
It was embarrassing, and more than a little worrisome, that Hanna hadn’t even realized anything was wrong until two days ago. She’d been sitting in Tom’s garden, watching him lose his wrestling match with his shiny gas barbecue, and trying not to giggle, when she first noticed the tiny kick. It felt a little like indigestion, though she hadn’t eaten anything, despite her overwhelming hunger. Her friend Natalie had taken one look at the way Hanna clasped her stomach with over protective hands, before pronouncing, “You’re pregnant.”
A long discussion about the ability to have periods whilst being pregnant ensued, followed by a mad dash to find a pharmacy that was open on a Sunday. Natalie had eventually returned with three tests—all different brands, a bag loaded with prenatal vitamins, and a bumper box of tissues for the tears she knew would ensure.
Now they were in Tom’s car, heading for the prestigious Portland Hospital, where he’d arranged for an ultrasound. Despite Hanna’s protests, he’d argued she deserved the best care, and he’d pay for the initial consultation.
“Have you told him yet?” Tom asked, as the car swept past Regent’s Park. The grass was littered with half-clothed bodies, desperate to take advantage of the mini heat wave in London. Hanna wondered idly if the weather in New York was as warm.
“I’ve been putting it off,” she admitted, fanning her face with her hand. Despite the noisy whir of the air-conditioning, the interior was stifling, and she couldn’t seem to cool down at all. “I want to see the evidence for myself before I call him.”
She was dreading it. Hanna had a vision of Richard jumping on the first plane out, and sweeping her off her feet in a protestation of love. What if that didn’t happen? It was four months since she’d seen him last, and made him promise not to contact her until he was ready. She felt like she was cheating, forcing things.
She hadn’t heard anything from him—not a word—and she’d been avoiding the Larsens for fear he was staying with Meredith for good. Waiting was hard enough; rejection would be a hundred times more painful.
“Were three pregnancy tests not enough proof?” Tom asked. Hanna watched his dimple twitch above the curve of his jaw. “You should have told him already.”
“What if he doesn’t want it?” She voiced her worst fear. It didn’t make her feel any better.
“It’s not his choice to make,” he replied. Taking her hand, he rubbed his thumb across her palm. “Even if he doesn’t want it, you know I’ll always be here for you.”
Her heart clenched. Tom was too good to her sometimes—this was definitely one of those occasions.
The car turned into the hospital’s private parking lot. Outside the front entrance, a few photographers leaned on the walls, waiting for the next big celebrity to emerge.
“Are you sure you want to come in with me? What if somebody sees you?”
If the paparazzi spotted him, they’d both end up as headline fodder. The Portland Hospital was a hotbed of celebrity births, and photographers routinely hovered outside, hoping to catch an exclusive.
“Nobody’s going to see me. I’ve arranged for a space next to the back door, and we’ll run in and out.” He pulled something from his pocket. “Anyway, I’ve brought my beanie with me.”
Hanna laughed as he pulled the black, woolen cap over his blond curls. He always knew how to diffuse the tension, whether it be asking her to marry him when she found out she was pregnant—to which her answer was no—to putting a winter hat on in the middle of the hottest day in fifty years. She was so thankful to have him around.
Tom’s money talked, and it had a lot to say. Their parking space was the best in the lot, and as soon as they walked through the back door, she was ushered straight into an examination room. There was no hanging around in the waiting room or form filling required. A couple of signatures, and she was lying on the bed, top up and jeans down, cool gel being poured on her stomach.
“You must both be so excited,” the radiographer said. Hanna felt herself blushing at the inference and glanced over at Tom. He didn’t seem perturbed at all.
“We are.” He winked at Hanna. She tried to smile back.
“Well, I’m going to take a look, make sure everything is okay, and I’ll turn the monitor around and show you what there is to see.” The radiographer’s voice was calm and reassuring, but the butterflies still flew around Hanna’s stomach. “You think you are around four months, is that right?”
“I think so.”
“Well, there won’t be too much to see, but I’ll try and point out some of the good stuff.”
Hanna looked down at her stomach, all shiny from the gel, and wondered how she hadn’t suspected a thing. The slight protrusion seemed obvious now, her stomach rounding up from her pelvis in a small arc.
Tom leaned forward and took her hand in his. He looked more nervous than Hanna as the radiographer silently moved the wand across her skin. Hanna squeezed him back, flashing him a reassuring smile to try and calm him down.
The radiographer turned around and smiled at them both. “Okay, it all looks good.”
God, those words were perfect. Hanna hadn’t known the baby even existed until two days ago, but suddenly her world revolved around a tiny being no larger than an avocado.
Then she saw the monitor.
Her mouth fell open at the green and black image. Tears stung at her eyes, as she looked at the screen
, seeing the tiny outline of a baby. She’d expected to see little more than a blob, but she could make out a head, legs, and little arms flailing around as the radiographer pushed the wand on her belly.
“Jesus,” Tom whispered. Hanna turned to see tears pouring down his face. Her throat felt tickly and dry, and though she opened her mouth, she couldn’t speak.
It was a baby. Her baby—hers and Richard’s, and it was everything she wanted. Nothing in the world mattered more than the tiny thing growing inside her.
“The baby looks perfectly healthy, and measures around four and a half inches. I’ve put your expected date of confinement down as November 3rd, but because you don’t know the date of your last period, it’s not precise.”
“You’re going to have a baby before Christmas.” Tom’s excitement was infectious, and Hanna grinned madly. She was already picturing a tiny infant, all bundled up in a Santa outfit, cute and cuddly, and surrounded by love.
“I’m going to take a few photographs for you now.” The radiographer held the wand still and pressed a button on the keyboard, lips curling down in concentration. “The baby doesn’t seem to want to pose. He or she is a feisty little thing.”
A flash of pride warmed Hanna’s heart, and she wanted to hug herself with glee. She was pregnant with a healthy, feisty, gorgeous baby, and in around five months’ time she was going to be a mother.
A mother.
“He’s so beautiful.” Tom leaned in closer so his head was right next to Hanna’s and they both stared intently at the monitor. The baby moved its arm again, like it was waving.
“She is,” she corrected, unable to tear her eyes away. Five months seemed so far away. Her mind started to make a list of things to do: move house, build nursery, and buy shit-loads of useless equipment even though she’d never use any of it.
“Okay, I’ll put your referral through. The obstetrician will want to see you next week, and I’ll be doing some more tests at week twenty.” She cleaned her stomach off. As Hanna sat up and adjusted her clothing, the radiographer handed the photographs to Tom, who took them greedily.
