“I know.”
The two of them exchange a glance. It’s not friendly, exactly, but it isn’t full of ire either. It’s interest mixed with wariness. The type of look two captains from opposing teams give each other right before a match. Shake hands then in for the kill.
I shudder at the analogy. Maybe it’s better if Andie and David are over. I can’t begin to imagine Alex and David as brothers-in-law.
Alex passes David a coffee and we all sit and sip, making small talk about Mathilda and about David’s plans for work. He’s hoping to buy a house once he’s back in Darwin.
Alex is on his best behaviour, hardly sniping or remarking, and I reach my hand out to take his. He squeezes and I squeeze back.
I love the way he’s become so much more chilled out since we’ve been back together. Both of us have managed to smooth our ups and downs into small hills and dips, rather than the mountains and ravines they were before. It feels as though we’ve overcome the challenge, slayed the beast. Now we get to run off with the virgin and enjoy the spoils of victory.
Or something like that.
“I reckon that’s about it,” David finally says. He steps back, running a hand through his over-grown sandy hair. He already looks more Australian. A few weeks back there and his skin has darkened, his hair lightened. It’s as if the sun has stolen any English influence away.
“You’re all done.” I nod, and for some reason I want to cry. Which is stupid, because we’re moving, too. It’s not as if we were going to be living near him forever.
“Thanks for the help.” He reaches in to hug me, then shakes Alex’s hand.
“You’re welcome.” My reply is gruff. I don’t tell him I’m going to miss him, even if I am. And I don’t let him see the tears, even though they want to fall. I simply hug him again, and tell him to keep in touch, smiling when he promises he will.
When Alex takes us back to the flat, he holds me a little tighter, as if he knows I’m feeling fragile and sad. His lips are soft against mine as he pulls me through the maze of boxes that line our living room, and his words are sweet against my ear.
“I love you,” he says, swinging me around until I’m pressed against the wall. “Always.”
And that’s enough for me.
* * *
Two Years Later
“We’re going to need a bigger place.” Alex glances around at the living room. It’s stuffed to the gills with garish toys, plastic primary colours covering every surface. Max knocks down the bricks he’s built, laughing loudly, begging us to “look, look!”
When we don’t go immediately, he gets up and barrels towards us, throwing himself against me. I stagger back, half-laughing, half-wincing, and Alex kneels down to Max’s height, looking carefully at his son.
“Max, you need to be careful with Mummy, remember?”
Max nods seriously. “Yup.”
“You okay?” Alex glances up at me, reaching up to rub my bump. “Anything hurt?”
I shake my head. “I’m fine.”
“Baby.” Max points at me.
“That’s right, Maxie.” Alex nods, still looking serious. “There’s a little baby in there. Your sister. You need to look after her, all right?”
Max’s eyes widen. For a moment he looks so much like his daddy. I touch my stomach, wondering if this tiny life is going to be the same. Dark hair, dark eyes, serious smile.
I hope so.
“Everything okay?” Tina walks out of the kitchen, carrying a mug full of steaming coffee. “Are you two not off yet?”
I smile. “We’re saying goodbye to Max.”
“Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye,” Max sings. I try to work out which of his many favourite programmes that song is from. All of them, maybe.
“Bye bye. Be good for Nanny.” I lean down and press my lips to his head. He smells of baby shampoo. It’s still one of the best smells in the world. “We’ll try not to be too late.”