Page 97 of Duplicity

My tiny nod is all the permission he needs. He closes the space between us and joins me under the spray, banding an arm around my back and tugging me close. With his other hand, he cradles my head, pressing it against his chest.

The relief is instant. His body is huge, the most physical reminder of how much I’ve missed having any kind of support. I bury my face in his chest and luxuriate in the incredible sensation of hot water and warm, solid man. If he wasn’t holding me up, I’m not sure I could have stayed upright for another second.

He holds me more tightly, crushing me to him, his body a cocoon. He drowns out everything else: the exhaustion, the worry, the isolation, thenoise.I wrap my arms around his torso and hold on tight, an overwhelmed child clutching her giant teddy bear for dear life. Whatever fuckwittery he’s been guilty of recently, right now he’s undoubtedly my safe space, my port in a storm.

Gently, silently, we sway together, his hand smoothing my hair as the water soaks it. After a few moments like this, he speaks.

‘I’m so fucking sorry you’ve had to go through this, sweetheart. I’m just—I’m so blown away by you. Athena’s filled me in on a lot of stuff.’ He pauses. When he speaks, his voice is gruff. ‘I think you might be the best parent I’ve ever met.’

I give a little laugh-sob then, because what he doesn’t know is that anyone would do this. In my place, anyone would fight for their child’s health and wellbeing like I have. It’s all part of what you sign up for when you have a kid.

‘I can’t imagine how tough it’s been on you, especially this week,’ he continues. ‘You’re bearing up so well. And I’m not here to waltz in and save you—Athena made it very clear on the way over that you’re far too strong to need saving, and I agree.’ He twists my hair idly into a soaking rope before resuming hisstroking. ‘You’ve been saving yourself and your little girl for longer than I can bear. But I’m here to support you for as much as you need, okay? Let me take some slack off you, whatever I can, even if it’s doing laundry runs for you, or sitting with Tabs every day while you come back here and shower. I’m not going anywhere.’

‘What do you mean, you’re not going anywhere?’ I mutter against his skin.

‘I mean, I’m staying here till she gets discharged.’

I summon the energy to lift my head so I can gape up at him. He looks down at me and nods sternly.

‘Seriously. I’m not leaving you.’

‘But you can’t do that,’ I protest. ‘We could be here another week! You have work—oh my God, isn’t it the summit this week?’ I wade through the treacle in my brain. ‘Wednesday?’

‘Today is Wednesday, love. I canned it.’

I gasp. This summit has been Brendan’s sole professional focus for weeks. I know what a massive deal it is for him. It’stoday?And he’s here, casually hugging me in the shower like he has nowhere else to be?

The horror on my face makes him smile. ‘It’s just work. Whatever. No one’s saving lives. Not like you.’ He gathers me close again, and I lay my cheek against his chest. ‘Through that lens, it’s completely unimportant.Everythingis unimportant compared to you and what you’re going through right now. Do you understand what I’m saying?’

His heart beats steadily against my cheek as he resumes stroking my hair. I can’t hear his heartbeat under the thunderous water, but I can feel it. I’ve spent the past few days monitoring the beat of my daughter’s heart, obsessing over it. The steadfastness of Brendan’s tells me he’s healthy. Strong enough to take some of this cup of suffering for me.

He fucked up big time last week with his nasty, degrading behaviour, and I honestly don’t know where that leaves our unique professional relationship. But right now he’s here. He’s sacked off a huge career opportunity and chartered a jet and crossed an ocean to be here with me.And he’s telling me he’s not going anywhere.That he’s staying here, of his own volition, for me and for a child he doesn’t know, for whom he bears no parental responsibility.

The gravity of his gesture hits me like a freight train, and I screw my face up as I turn to bury it fully in his lovely pec.

Stress has built this week, just as surely as exhaustion. I’ve had no outlet, no ability to fall apart. Not when I’m the sole adult present for Tabs. A heart operation is exhausting and terrifying, an enormous strain on not just her heart itself but on her whole body. She’s the brave one. She’s the one who’s had to put her life in strangers’ hands. She’s so full of courage that it blows me away.

I’ve been helpless to do much except be there for her.

Comfort her when she’s scared.

Distract her when she’s in pain.

Stay strong.

So no. Falling apart has not been an option, but it’s come at a hell of a price, because my entire head feels like it’s going to explode. I’m so full of unresolved stress and anguish and fear that my eyes and my sinuses ache with the tears I have not been able to shed for my little girl, the suffering I haven’t been able to take from her.

Something was always going to have to give.

Something was eventually going to push me over the edge.

And it’s this. The kindness of a man with whom I’m supposed to have a purely transactional relationship. The very fact that he is here, offering to help me carry this burdenfor as long as it takes.

I’ve been holding the vaguest appearance of sanity together with the emotional equivalent of a rusty old lock securing a dam, and Brendan’s unexpected acts of compassion have that lock giving up the ghost and the floodgates bursting open, obliterating every last drop of composure in spectacular style.

The tears aren’t decorous tears. I don’t sob prettily into his chest.

I bawl.

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