she had been so very, very careful, but with Nick. She screwed her eyes closed, because the only person she was raging at was herself.
‘I knew the risks too.’ He caught her racing brain and sent it on a different track. ‘Oh, I wasn’t actively thinking…’ The words weren’t coming easily for Nick, but he was at least trying, this conversation incredibly honest, dangerously honest perhaps. ‘I’m responsible, Alison, I’ve never not been careful except with you.’ And it was raw and honest and the truth. ‘And, yes, I should have taken more care, you can throw that at me too if you want to, but I guess for the first time passion won. There was someone, you, that I was willing not to be so practical and sensible with…’ And he looked at her then and stated a fact. ‘That’s how babies are made, have been since the beginning of time. The chance was worth it at the time.’
‘Is it worth it now?’
‘Of course it is.’ He sounded very sure.
‘You want to travel.’
‘The world will still be there, waiting.’ And then he grinned. ‘To tell you the truth, I’m sick of throwing myself off cliffs. You’ve saved me another bungee-jump, yet another sodding extreme sport to show I’m having a good time.’
‘What will your parents say?’ Alison asked.
‘Trapped by a colonial!’ He rolled his eyes. ‘They’ll come round. I know you can’t leave her, Alison, and I completely see why.’
‘What about your job?’
‘I’ve got a job! I’ve been offered a year’s work when Amy goes on maternity leave next week.’ And he gave a little grimace. ‘Keep that quiet—I mean it. She’s adopting a baby from overseas and she’s beside herself—doesn’t want to tell anyone till he’s actually here.’
And someone was looking after her, because Nick would never need to know how little she had trusted him, how this gorgeous blonde sexy doctor somehow really was just that.
‘What about your mum?’
‘She’ll be completely and utterly delighted.’ And there was a wobble in her voice, a strange fizz of excitement that had, till now, when she thought of the baby been absent, a vision, a glimpse of a future, only now she could see Nick and herself and a beach and a baby.
And then she admitted something, something she hadn’t dared admit, not even to herself.
‘I’m scared.’
‘I know.’
‘No, you don’t,’ Alison said. ‘It’s not trapped that I feel, it’s.’
‘Scared,’ he offered, and she nodded, sure he didn’t really get it, except it would seem he did. ‘Scared you might love it too much?’ he said, and she nodded. ‘Scared you might lose it?’
And he shouldn’t say that, Alison thought frantically, because if he said it, then maybe it would happen.
‘I think being a parent means you’re scared for the rest of your life.’
‘I can’t stand what my mum went through.’
‘Then you’ve got a choice,’ Nick said. ‘You can hold back, never fully live, never fully love, just in case…’ Which was what she had been doing. ‘But that doesn’t work, because sooner or later living wins. Look at your mum,’ Nick went on. ‘Look at you.’ He put his hand on her stomach, the result of taking a chance, and he was right because, cautious or not, life threw in surprises whether you liked them or not.
‘I got you a present.’
And out of his laptop bag he produced not a ring but a rather tatty airplane magazine folded on one page. And it was nicer than a ring, nicer than anything actually, because it was a flight map showing all the destinations that airline went to, and Nick pointed a couple of them out.
‘There’s Sydney,’ he said, ‘and there’s London, and there’s an awful lot of world in between. You choose the stopovers.’
‘Sorry?’
‘Well, even if they are a pain, even if they are miserable and controlling, I guess I do love my family, and I’m going to be going home once a year, hopefully with you, or we can drop you off somewhere and pick you up on the way back. Me and the baby, I mean. It might take a while to complete your gap year…’ he grinned ‘…but you can do it in stages.’
And it was the nicest picture. It would be the first on her wall, one she would take to the shop tomorrow and have properly framed, because it wasn’t the red dots, or the destinations, but the generosity that came with it—the acceptance, the space, the future they would create.
And she could do this, Alison realised.
She could love and she could live, and, yes, it might be scarier than safe, but it was nicer than safe, better than safe, and anyway Nick made her feel safe.
‘Choose the honeymoon.’
‘You don’t have to marry me.’
‘Actually, I do,’ Nick said. ‘Makes me feel more secure.’ And then he grinned, and grinned even wider as a delicious thought struck. ‘Oh, God,’ said Nick, ‘you know what this means…’ He was grinning and sounding delighted. ‘No condoms. Monogamy, here I come.’
They had to undress in the dark because there were no curtains and would have to be up at the crack of dawn if they didn’t want to be on public display.
‘I don’t like the look of this,’ he warned as he pushed at the inflatable bed. ‘I think it needs more air.’
‘It’s been filling for ages,’ Alison said. ‘You go first.’ Because she’d rather topple onto him than have him topple onto her.
‘It’s comfortable.’ Nick sounded surprised and he took her hand as she climbed in beside him and lay a moment adjusting to floating on air—her first night in her flat and Nick was beside her, and she lay there for a moment, trying to fathom how in so little time her life had changed, was changing, and would keep on doing so.
He rolled towards her and she lay in silence, could feel him watching.
‘Are you happy, Alison?’
‘I think…’ She thought and paused as she examined her heart. ‘That I’m going to have to get used to being happy.’
‘Hey!’ Nick said. ‘We could move in with your mum, save a bit of money—rent this place out.’ She kicked him, which wasn’t a great idea in that bed because he almost fell out, and he held on like he was climbing up onto a life raft.
‘It’s a bit awkward,’ Nick said, and he was right. It was awkward, less then two months in and suddenly here they were, except, she realised, Nick was talking about the bed, because he toppled onto her with a touch more gusto than intended, his lips meeting hers. They were warm and firm as she had so often remembered and his tongue was smooth and warm and tasted of Nick. And he was here, and that was going to take some getting used to, that this gorgeous, stunning man was here, not for baby, not for duty, but for her.
‘I’m scared,’ Nick said, and she was about to admit again that she was too—scared of telling everyone, scared of the future, scared that what they had found was too good to last—except as he came up for air, again Alison realised that he was talking about the bed. ‘That we’re going to topple over.’
There was the difference. Nick was in the now, living in the present, and for Alison grief and tragedy meant she lived with every scenario, every vision, knew how easily it all could change. And she wanted his faith and his presence in each moment, and she stepped into it as he moved deep within her, she let her mind still, concentrated on nothing more than the pleasure he gave her, focused on the now and all that they were.
And it was a precarious position, a shift to the left or the right and the passion that was building would