Page 99 of If I Could Say Goodbye
‘Ta-dah! This pink stuff is trar-ra-ra-slaaaata and this one is tus-in-ki.’ His beaming smile looks up at her, eager for praise.
Jen bends and picks him up. ‘Oof! You’re getting so big!’ she exclaims as she pulls him close and kisses his ear, making him wriggle and giggle.
‘Me and Daddy made . . .’ Hailey looks at me for confirmation as she says, ‘moussaka. I helped chop the au-ber-gine.’
‘I can’t wait to eat it. Aren’t you all clever?’
‘Wait until you eat before you make your conclusions,’ I whisper into her ear. I kiss her on the cheek and her hand grabs mine, pulling me back to her.
I stand on the threshold of Oscar’s room while Jen makes all the right noises for the animals in his favourite story. Hailey appears, smelling of strawberry toothpaste and camomile shampoo.
‘Is she fixed?’ she asks.
‘I think so.’
‘But is she properly fixed, like when you bought new legs for the chair Grandpa broke and fixed it with the screws, or is she fixed like when you superglued my unicorn cup together?’
‘When was that?’
‘The day after Oscar’s nose bleeded all over Mummy’s bed sheets. You fixed it but I could still see all the cracks. I didn’t like it properly.’
‘Sorry about that,’ I say, thinking of the discarded cup.
‘It’s OK. It’s just that it was never the same after it broke.’ She lets go of my hand and pushes her way into Oscar’s room, sits on the end of the bed and sucks the ends of her hair.
Jen catches my eyes as Hailey roars like a lion and Oscar dissolves into a fit of giggles. My heart doesn’t expand like it’s supposed to according to all the romantic audio books that Jen listens to. Her eyes don’t twinkle, they don’t sparkle or dance . . . but there is a light behind them. I think that’s the best way to describe it: there is light, whereas for the past few months they have been dull.
Chapter Sixty-Eight
Jennifer
‘Well, that was . . .’ I roll off Ed and we both laugh.
‘I know.’
Everything is as it should be. This is one of the moments I want him to remember. When we’re both flushed with the afterglow of sex, our bodies wet with sweat, our heartbeats racing and in sync. This is the woman I want him to remember.
‘God I’ve missed you,’ he whispers into my hair.
‘I’ve missed you too.’
We stay silent for a few minutes, a smile nestled into the corners of my mouth, the rhythmic strokes of his hands up and down my spine.
‘Who is your perfect woman?’ I ask.
‘Is this a trick question?’ Another kiss, more strokes up and down my arm. ‘You’re my perfect woman.’
‘Smooth-talker.’ I prop myself up on my elbow. ‘Seriously . . . like when you were a teenager, who was your perfect woman?’
‘I used to have a real thing for Penelope Cruz.’
‘Really?’ I never knew that. ‘So brunettes then?’
He lifts a strand of my hair and twiddles it around his finger. ‘I suppose . . . and her accent. Such a sexy accent.’
‘Mr Jones . . .’ I do a dreadful attempt at a Spanish accent, ‘are you saying you would like me to talk like these when we are in ze bedroom?’ I straddle him and sit up as he laughs softly. I love Ed’s laugh . . . if sounds were food, his laugh would be melted chocolate.
‘How about you?’
