Page 97

“Absolutely,” I cut him off. I rise from the seat and take my mug to the dishwasher, putting it away before turning back to look at them. “I might pop around tomorrow, though, after the hospital appointment, depending on how it goes.”

“Maybe you should invite Joseph around for a dinner here. We all need to keep our focus on Maddie, and maybe it would be a good opportunity to clear the air,” Caleb suggests, and he looks pointedly at Felix.

“Hey, I’m on my best behaviour,” Felix retorts.

“I don’t think he’d feel comfortable coming for dinner tomorrow. He might think it’s a trap for us to lure him in and murder him,” I joke.

“Just ask him. All the adults in this situation need to be exactly that—adults,” Caleb reasons.

“I’m sure he means you.” Felix looks at me and gives me a grin.

“Fuck off. You know he means you need to control your resting bitch face.” I laugh.

“Invite him. Just let us know early enough so I know how many we’re cooking for.” Caleb ignores our joking around.

“I’ll ask, but don’t be surprised when he says no.” I shrug. I’m sure eating with the Devil himself would be preferable to Joseph than eating with us.

“Don’t let him make you feel shitty,” Felix implores.

“I’m sure he’ll be on his best behaviour,” I mutter.

I’m not particularly looking forward to tomorrow. I don’t know why I volunteered to do it, other than trying to be the bigger person. Or maybe there’s a more devious element to my offer, the idea that the more I try to appease him, the less he’ll punish me for my transgressions.

“Well, I’ll sort him out if he even dares thinking about being a dick,” Felix promises.

“There’s that winning adult behaviour I’m looking for.” Caleb laughs.

I force a laugh and give them both a kiss on the cheek.

“Have a good evening, both,” I say. I gather my things and then head out of their kitchen and towards the front door, listening to them both calling their goodbyes and “I love yous” from behind me.

I walk to my car, parked on their driveway, getting in and driving the twenty minutes out of the little village and into the city centre where my flat is.

I park in a free spot, grateful there’s still one left in the parking bays for residents on the street, and not too far from the door to my place. The shop still looks secure as I pass it, the “Closed for family emergency” sign I put up on the door this morning still there. I’ve done my best to keep the shop open every day, but I knew I wouldn’t focus on work today, even if I opened just for the morning.

I let myself into the main door to the stairs that lead to my flat, heading up so I can let myself in. I drop my keys onto the table, putting my bag down as well. I know I should probably go to bed and sleep, even if it’s early. Pregnancy makes me tired, and adding on the stress of today has made me feel more so, but I still end up sitting at the craft table instead. I need to do something to take my mind off things, and the dress I’m making has been a good distraction for the last couple of days. It’s not one I’ve been commissioned to make, nor is it something for me to wear. Instead, it’s a pretty outfit for Maddie. It has a close-fitting, lined bodice with princess seams and a long skirt section with hidden pockets. I’ve made it in a sateen fabric in a deep purple because it’s Maddie’s favourite colour.

I don’t know where she’s going to wear this dress. I don’t know whether she’ll even like it or appreciate it, but it gives me something to focus on in the evening, and it’s something different to the wedding dresses I keep getting commissioned for. The past two years have been lucrative for me and the business. Word of mouth gave me a steady stream of customers, to the point that I’ve been booked back-to-back. The commissions I’ve made through wedding and bridesmaid dresses have given me a nice financial cushion, enough so that I’ve been able to give up the weekend classes in the last few months. Businesswise, everything is going well. All I need now is for Maddie to be better. For this baby to be born safely for Felix and Caleb. If I can get those things in life, I’ll be happy. I won’t want or need anything else.

I switch on the sewing machine, then gather the sections of fabrics, the skirt, and the bodice, planning on connecting them. It won’t be a long task, so it won’t delay me getting to bed at a relatively early time, but it will be progress, taking it closer to being finalised. I glance at the pile of fabrics that rest on the arm of the sofa, looking at the array of colours, thinking of the things I’ve planned to make for Maddie. A long skirt in an emerald green. A pair of dungarees in a purple corduroy. An inky midnight-blue denim that I’ve planned for a knee-length skirt. A bold print I’ve planned for a jumpsuit for her. Clothes I don’t know if she’ll want nor wear, but distractions for my racing mind.

I turn my attention back to the dress. I pin and check, set up the machine, and focus on creating a seamless stitch and connection between the fabrics, creating with my hands something that I can say is perfect when everything else in my life feels so imperfect, jagged and torn.

The sound of the machine drowns out everything else, making it impossible for thoughts of Joseph to penetrate through, leaving me grateful because I know if I let them in, I’ll be broken all over again. It’s why I never allow me to think about those months when things had felt special, why I focus only on the pain I felt when he left, the first time and the second. I always let myself sink into the torture I felt seeing him in the papers with Hannah or other women on his arm, more so now—a reminder that even if there is a tentative truce between us for the sake of Maddie, I cannot let him hurt me again.

I cannot shatter again.

***

“Are they always running late?” Joseph asks, breaking the silence between us. He shifts on the seat in the waiting room, looking uncomfortable and frustrated.

“They’re not always giving good news to people,” I point out.

Despite my words, I understand his frustration. It’s one thing to be reasonable and compassionate at the news other families are getting when on the other side of the door, but it doesn’t fully dampen the desire to be at the front of the queue, met on time, put out of the misery of waiting. He’s never experienced this before, but I have, and I know sometimes the updates are awful. Thankfully, this is a routine appointment, a discussion about whether Joseph would be a good donor, should Maddie need one.

Silence falls between us again, but it doesn’t seem unusual in the waiting room. Most people sit in silence, even if they’re with somebody waiting. There are usually some low murmurs and questions about whether somebody needs a drink of water, but mostly the noise comes from the nurses calling people for various reasons—time to be weighed, time to be measured, time to go into the room and hear their fate.

Joseph clears his throat. “I looked at the scrapbook properly yesterday when I got home. Thank you. It meant a lot, and I’m sure it must have taken some time for you to recreate that for me.”