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She pursed her lips, leaning her hands on the back of the couch and eying him apprehensively.
‘Zeke, is this really such a good idea? Won’t people...talk?’
‘A married couple attending together. Yes, I can see how that would make the headlines.’ He laughed, making her feel foolish despite everything.
‘Surely you can’t really need me there?’
‘I do,’ he said simply.
And when she blinked at the uncomplicated emotion in his words, something clenched low in his stomach. He found himself not wanting to give her the chance to back away.
‘Go and get ready to collect Seth, Tia, have some time together. I’ll set the rest up.’
‘I can help for a few moments.’
‘Go, Tia,’ he growled. ‘I’ll deal with it.’
And then, before she could argue any more, he strode around the desk, tucked the rhino picture neatly under the glass paperweight on top of his desk, and flicked out his mobile phone, as though his momentum could somehow galvanise Tia, too.
Either way he took it as a small victory when, a few moments later, she turned and headed out of his study.
It felt like less of a victory when he heard his son’s shout of delight following a splash and found himself standing at the study window, which overlooked the covered infinity pool, less than ten minutes later, unable to drag his gaze from the sight of his wife stepping out in peacock-blue and executing a graceful dive into the perfectly still waters.
He wanted her with an almost overwhelming intensity.
What the hell was he playing at?
Tia was supposed to be a part of his history, his past. Not something he had to poke at every available opportunity. Like sticking his tongue against a loose tooth when he’d been a kid.
The sooner he remembered that, the better.
* * *
‘Where’s Zeke?’ Seth demanded as the two of them headed to the pool together. ‘Isn’t he coming swimming?’
‘No, sweetheart, he had to work.’
‘Oh.’ Seth peered at her. ‘I thought it might have been because he couldn’t get his robot leg wet.’
Tia froze, feeling as though her entire body were twisting itself around and around as she turned to her son.
‘What do you know about Zeke’s leg?’
‘Oh, he has one real one and one robot one,’ Seth declared. ‘Didn’t you know?’
‘Yes,’ she nodded, relieved he clearly didn’t know that she had been the one to amputate. ‘I did know that, actually. But how do you?’
‘I’ve seen it.’
A gurgle rippled through her. Of course Seth had seen it; Zeke wore shorts out here. It was practical, and
suddenly a vivid memory rushed her of the time when, five years ago, the rehab centre had told her to stop worrying about Zeke hiding his leg and give him time, telling her that most of their amputees came to wear their limbs like a badge of honour.
Back then, she’d never believed it would be Zeke.
Every time he’d looked at his legs, he’d had such an expression of loathing. Whether at her for amputating, or at himself for living when his buddies had died, she’d never quite been sure.
It was better than hiding away and feeling somehow ‘defective’, as Zeke called it.
