Page 79 of The Life We Almost Had

It smells of home.

‘Anna?’

A hint of a frown passes across Adam’s forehead. My throat tightens. Normal, I must act normal.

But I can’t.

For the second time, I wind my arms around his neck and press my body close to his. He hasn’t shaved and his chin scratches against my cheek. Before, I would have complained at this but instead my laughter merges with my sobs until I am hiccupping, not sure what I am feeling.

I am feelingeverything.

I pull away from him, giggling.

‘Okay. Tears I could understand, but laughter? Should I be paranoid?’ He adjusts his boxers.‘Nope, nothing hanging out there. Want to share the joke?’

‘Sorry… I’m just… happy.’ It’s too small a word to describe how utterly joyous it is to be with him at home where everything is so… perfect.

‘Right. Well, happy. Yeah… me too.’ He grins. ‘Still hasn’t sunk in, has it?’

‘Ummm. No?’ For one horrible second I think he is referring to the accident. That would explain his ‘tears I could understand’ remark. While I wait for him to speak, I wipe my eyes with my pyjama sleeve.

‘Not for me either, but the book told me your moods would be up and down. Crying is normal.’

‘The book?’ I’m not following him at all. There’s a book about yacht accidents?

‘Yeah. I know you told me to stop reading it since I told you it said it will take nine months to get your extra weight off, but I know see-sawing emotions are because of your hormones. It’s only to be expected in your condition.’ He smiles as he places a hand on my stomach.

‘In my…’ A movement in my belly knocks the air from my lungs. I place my hand on top of his, my eyes straying down towards my bump.

My bump!

‘That’s all it is, isn’t it, Anna? Hormones.’ His eyes darken as he studies me. ‘Everything’s been better since Alircia, hasn’t it? Or since this little one?’ He gently pats my tummy. I begin to cry again, shifting myself up to sitting so I can reach a tissue and mop up my tears.

‘I’ll go and make you a tea.’ He swings his legs out of bed.

‘No.’ I grasp his wrist, not wanting him to leave me, however momentarily. I remember what Mum wished she’d said to Dad. ‘Adam, I… I would cope okay without you, you know. I’d be okay on my own.’

He turns and studies me. I can’t remember the last time we properly made eye contact; not fleeting glances at each other while we talked about the mundane, but properly drank each other in. In this moment I feel so connected to him, but when he speaks his tone is clipped and I realize I have inadvertently upset him.

‘I know we’ve had a tough few years and the pregnancy isn’t a sticking plaster; we have to work at healing the wound but—’

‘Christ.’ I cut him off. ‘Where did you get that analogy from? The book?’ Automatically I fall into the defensive. Why does he take everything the wrong way?

‘So what if I’ve been reading up? Some of us want our family to work.’

‘I want our family to work!’ I’m crying again. I can’t believe we’re bickering.

‘So what’s all this “I’ll be okay on my own” bollocks?’

‘I just… I don’t know. I just wanted you to know that if anything happened to you… I wouldn’t want you to worry.’

‘Ah. This is antenatal anxiety—’

‘I love that you’ve researched all of this. Really. I’m sorry.’ I take his hand. I don’t know how much longer we have and I don’t want to waste a second.

‘Don’t be. It’s really common. Let me go and make a drink and we’ll have a cuddle.’

‘I don’t want—’

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