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“All right,” I say. “Leave it with me. Maybe we’ll go after Christmas. Spend New Year’s Eve standing in the Pacific. What do you think?”
“It sounds wonderful. I’ve never liked New Year. But I think this year I might feel very different.”
“It’s going to be exciting next year, for sure.”
We get into the Aston, and I head toward Island Bay. It is going to be exciting. Terrifying. But exciting.
“I hope I’ll be a good father,” I say.
Her eyebrows rise. “Why on earth do you think you wouldn’t be?”
I shrug. “I’ve not had much to do with babies.”
“Apart from Eddie, you mean?”
“Well, yeah, I guess.”
“I’ve seen you with him. You’re going to be an amazing father.”
I sigh, touched that she has such faith in me.
“Oh, Saxon,” she says, “I’m just crazy about you.”
I give a short, embarrassed laugh. “I don’t know why.”
“That’s why. Because you have no idea how wonderful you are.”
I hold her gaze for a moment, then return it to the road.
We don’t talk again for the rest of the journey. I want to tell her how much I want her. But I’m still worried she’ll feel beholden to me. And I’m still afraid that as soon as she feels frightened again, she’s going to run. If I take that step toward us being together, it would be so much harder for me if she left.
When we get there, I slow the Aston, open the garage as we approach, and steer the car down into it. Then I turn the engine off, and the sound fades to nothing, to be replaced by the gentle rattle of the waves on the beach, drawing the pebbles along the sand.
I scratch at a mark on the steering wheel. Then I look at her. We study each other for a long time.
Her eyes are huge, and she looks as if words are about to come tumbling out of her mouth, but she doesn’t say anything. Maybe she has no idea why I’m tied up in knots. I don’t know what she’s thinking. And because she finds it difficult to vocalize her feelings, I know she’s not going to declare undying love to me.
“What does a Dalek do to keep its skin so soft?” she asks.
I blink. “What?”
“Ex-foli-ate,” she says in a robotic voice.
I stare at her. She gives a short laugh, then says, “Sorry. Probably not the right moment.”
She doesn’t know what to say, so she’s trying to diffuse the tension. I brush my hand over my face, sigh, then open the car door and get out.
Catie follows me, heading up the stairs into the house.
We go into the living room, and I toss my keys on the table, then stop in the middle of the room, sliding my hands into the pockets of my jeans. She stands a few feet away, looking at me as if I’m a movie star who’s just walked into the room.
“Don’t look at me like that,” I say helplessly.
Her lips curve up, just a little. “Like what?”
“As if I’m something wonderful. I’m not, Catie. Without the money, I’m just an ordinary guy. Nothing special at all.”
“I think you are.”
