Forget Her Name(99)

‘I thought I’d get over you eventually,’ he mutters, still not looking at me. ‘But it didn’t happen. After the first month without you, I started walking past your parents’ house, even dropping in sometimes, hoping you’d eventually come home. But it was only ever your mum there, alone.’ He grimaces. ‘I begged Ellen to let me know how you were.’

‘But she refused?’

He nods. ‘I told myself it was for the best. Until Robert called me out of the blue. Told me about the baby. I couldn’t believe it at first. But then I saw it was just another of those cruel tricks life plays on us sometimes. Only this is a trick that doesn’t have to be cruel. Not unless we let it.’ He pauses. ‘Robert also told me some other things about you. That you’re depressed. Badly depressed. That he’s never seen you like this before.’

I close my eyes.

Dominic drops to his knees beside me. ‘Listen, I know you’re deeply unhappy. I know you’re out there on the edge with no one to hold your hand. I know because I feel like that too. And maybe I don’t deserve a second chance, after all the shit I put you through. But you’re no saint either. Are you?’

I look at him warily.

‘My condition could be hereditary,’ I remind him.

‘Then let me be there for you both,’ he says quickly. ‘Whatever the outcome, we can face it together.’

He takes my hand and I don’t pull away this time, though I’m tempted to kick him in the balls instead. But that would be a Rachel response, and I’ve promised myself to be Catherine as much as possible. To keep taking the meds and going to the therapist and put all that horror behind me. For the baby’s sake, if not for myself.

‘I love you.’ He kisses my hand gently. ‘Let me be your husband again. Let’s put the past behind us and try to make a life together.’

‘Because of the baby?’

‘Because it’s what we want. What we both need.’

I almost hate him for that. ‘I don’t need you,’ I tell him hotly. ‘I don’t need anyone. Not even Mum and Dad.’

‘Really?’

He turns my hand over and presses his lips passionately to my palm.

I shiver, trying to pull away, and he reaches up, grabbing hold of my shoulders. ‘No escaping this time, you hear me?’ He’s breathing hard, his eyes intent on my face. ‘You may not need your parents. But you need this. I know I need it. In fact, I think I may be addicted to you.’

I struggle but he’s too strong. He holds my face still while he kisses my mouth. It’s not a gentle kiss. It’s a hard, searching kiss. A let’s-go-to-bed kiss.

It reminds me what I’ve been missing.

Craving, perhaps.

‘Oh God.’

I clutch at his hair and drag him closer, our mouths fused together in heat. Someone must have turned the thermostat up again, I think, because I’m so hot all of a sudden. I can hardly breath, my skin is feverish, and I’m shaking with urgency.

There’s no point pretending I don’t want him.

I may even love him.

He looks round at the narrow bed behind us. ‘Now,’ he says thickly, and kisses my throat, already unbuttoning the front of my white dress. ‘Here.’

‘Say my name first.’

‘Names are for ordinary people. Not us.’

I hold him off, frowning. ‘You don’t even know if I’m Rachel or Cat.’

‘I don’t care who you are. Only what you do to me.’

‘You’re crazy.’

He lifts me easily out of the chair, despite my swollen belly, and I lock my legs about his waist. ‘Then we’re made for each other, aren’t we?’

‘Bastard!’ I growl into his neck as he carries me across the room.

‘Bitch!’

‘Don’t waste time undressing,’ I tell him urgently.

Dominic throws me down on the bed, landing heavily beside me. ‘Who said anything about undressing?’

I keep my eyes wide open as we love each other the way other people hate. Neither of us can help being this rough with each other. It’s pure instinct.

But such wild behaviour is normal for people like me and Dominic. We’re made for each other, he said, and he’s right. This thing between us is elemental, unrestrained by ordinary rules and expectations. It’s natural, not something we need to pick apart in a clinical setting and psychoanalyse. It stems from our personal baggage and how we’ve learnt to deal with it. The violence of our lovemaking is what sweeps everything clean every time and brings us back to ourselves, back to some semblance of sanity. Back to life and out of the darkness.

Just before climaxing, he cries out, ‘Rachel!’

I don’t correct him.

He may be right, after all. Who knows?

Afterwards, cradled in the circle of his strong arms, I gaze out of the window at the white mountains, and my eyelids grow heavy as I listen to the steady drip-drip-drip of thawing snow.