Page 196 of This Woman Forever

There was a heavy sense of regret the entire journey home. Regret we’re leaving Paradise. Regret it ended on a bit of a low. Regret London is waiting for us. And for me, there’s a whole host of issues that need resolving. I had thought my list of things to tackle was reducing. Somehow over the past few days, it’s grown. Seeing my mum has knocked me sideways, I admit it. Historically, such an encounter would’ve had me diving for a bottle to wash down the remorse and anger, and my lucidity and feelings right now are also why I would reach for the vodka. I can’t say I’m all too fond of the regret I’m feeling, or the worry, or the compassion. Mum looked so old. And Dad? How is he?

My knee jumps repeatedly as I stare down at my mobile. The kitchen is quiet, Cathy’s not here yet, and Ava’s upstairs getting ready for work. Can I? Should I?

I place my coffee down and snatch up my phone, dialing, standing, and walking around the island in circles. “Jesse?” Amalie says, unsure.

“Yeah, it’s me.” My sister inhales, while I fight the compulsion to yank at my recently knotted tie. “I saw Mum.”

“I know.”

I stop pacing. Of course she knows. “It didn’t go too well.” I roll my eyes to myself. “I mean?—”

“You’re married,” Amalie says quietly.

“Yeah, I’m married.” To someone I actually want to be married to. “We’re expecting. I mean, she’s expecting. Two. Babies, I mean. Twins. It’s twins.” I look up at the ceiling. “Ava’s expecting twins.”

“That’s so amazing, Jesse.”

“Thanks.” Amazing is right. And obviously a massive surprise to them. “I’m sorry your wedding was canceled,” I go on. “How’s Dad?” My face bunches, and I don’t fucking know why.

“You didn’t see him? He was with Mum at the restaurant, Jesse.”

“He was?”

“Yes.”

“He didn’t...” What? Say hi? Come shake my hand? Congratulate me?

“Come to you?” she asks. “For you to yell at him?”

“I didn’t—” I pinch the bridge of my nose, taking air into my lungs. I did yell at him. Always. Usually drunk. “So he’s okay?”

“They’re monitoring him,” she says, and I nod.

“That’s good. Very good.”

“So your wife...”

“What about my wife?”

“She’s...” Amalie hums, and I show the ceiling my rolling eyes again.

“Younger than me, yes,” I confirm, knowing Amalie would have wanted every small detail from Mum. “By nearly a whole twelve years, if you must know.”

“And she knows about The Manor?”

“Yes.”

“What’s inside The Manor?”

“Yes.”

“She knows about Jake?”

“Yes.”

“Your drinking?”

“Yes,” I grate.

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