“And?”
“I tell him she lives somewhere else and has a different life. Which is true.” I pause. “And that he’s very loved where he is. Which is the important part.”
Ava nods slowly.
“That makes sense.”
“Alfie’s not actually Alfie on paper,” I say after a moment.
Ava glances up at me. “No?”
“Alfonso.”
Her eyebrows lift slightly. “Alfonso?”
I smile faintly. “His mum was Italian. He was conceived while I was managing in Italy and she loved the name.”
“That’s actually quite lovely.”
“Try being called Alfonso in a primary school in Cumbria,” I say dryly. “He worked out pretty quickly that Alfie made life easier.”
Ava laughs softly against my chest. “Children are brutal.”
“Savage little creatures.”
A small silence settles again. Softer this time.
Then she says quietly, “That must have been lonely. Becoming a dad like that.”
“Yeah,” I admit. “It was.”
Her hand tightens slightly over mine.
“You don’t seem lonely now,” she says.
I look at her.
“No,” I say honestly. “Not right now.”
The alarm goes off.
Neither of us moves immediately.
Then Ava smiles slightly. “We ordered cuddle time.”
“We did.”
So I pull her closer again.
I keep my arm around her, feeling the slow rise and fall of her breathing as the alarm fades into silence.
For a moment I just lie there thinking about what she said. About how carefully she listens. How she doesn’t jump in with easy reassurances. How she treats things like they matter.
“What about you?” I ask quietly.
She tilts her head slightly. “What about me?”
“Dating. Family. Did you… never want kids?”
