We ate out of the boxes because I didn’t have the brain capacity to tell him I had plates.
It was fine. He made tea. I drank it, sat there all wrung out and in a way? Sad. I was sad that this wasn’t real. That I couldn’t have all of this.
“How would this work?” I asked him. I meant it.
“You mean, us?”
“Yes?” Weak. But I had to know. Had to have that plan he’d spoken about earlier.
“I think,” he started. “You can’t leave. This is your life’s work and your home. I can see how much this place means to you, and the kids here. I wouldn’t ask you to make that choice.”
“This is a weird place. The life I live up here is not for everyone. If you want a pint of milk? You need to get in the car.”
“I know. Doesn’t bother me.”
“It’s harsh and bleak, and the weather is ridiculous. We get snow in April. It’s cold and wet and miserable, and you need to wear wellies.”
“I don’t mind wellies.” He grinned. Yes, I knew how ridiculous I sounded.
“Thomas couldn’t stand it. The kids and the isolation and the cold.”
“I’m not Thomas, Fox. I’m me, and I already love it here. I’d come live here in a heartbeat.”
“I wouldn’t ask that of you either. Uprooting everything for me.”
“I…” He started, then stopped. Looked down at the fork still in his hand. He had a tiny smidge of egg at the side of his mouth.
I reached out and smoothed it away. Held his cheek in my hand. The words were at the tip of my tongue, but I couldn’t make myself say them.Please. Please stay with me.
“Breakfast was good.”
Thank you. Breaking the tension.
“And just so you know, I would do it. I would resign and come here, and I would live with you. It would take a bit of time to get sorted with another practice, but I would. I have savings; it would be fine. If you wanted me to.”
Fuck.
I swallowed my response. Just staring at him as he lost his nerve and looked down.
“Please,” I whispered.
“I would,” he whispered back.
Which was when Bailey Butcher stormed through the door with Spring the dog on a lead.
“Are you walking the dog or what?” he shouted. “We’ve been, like, sat on the steps for half an hour.”
“Butcher.”
“Not my name. I’m changing it.”
“Kid.” I sighed.
“What’s the dog’s name?” Here he was. Noah Fairweather. Doctor Fairweather. And apparently also good with dogs, down on his knees giving Spring an all-over body scratch and laughing at something Bailey was saying.
And I thought,Fuck it. I also thought…
I could see it, what this could be. All the good things, none of the bad. Because things would be bad, I knew that.
