After You Left(39)

‘Why do we have to be going somewhere?’ I’m not sure why I’m asking this. It is a lot like tempting fate. Perhaps it’s because I’d always wanted a future from my relationships, and I’d never got one, so I’m operating with reverse psychology.

‘Don’t we?’ He frowns.

I can tell this question has wrong-footed him slightly.

‘Because if we’re not, then you should say.’ He sits up. He isn’t chilled out any more. I have spoilt something. Again. ‘I think it’s important for honesty here, Alice. I certainly wouldn’t want to be wasting your time, and, frankly, I don’t want my own wasted, either.’ He’s become way too serious, and I wish I’d never said it. Why do I have to sabotage everything? It’s so damned annoying. ‘Time isn’t really on our side quite as much as we always like to think.’

‘Considering my womb is nearly collecting its pension.’

‘Precisely.’ He pretend-flinches, no doubt expecting me to attack him with a pillow again. I love his good-natured ability to change shadow to light.

‘Justin. Can I ask you something? Do you ever know how to answer simple, harmless questions without always making a big, heavy deal of everything?’

He scowls again. ‘What have I made a big heavy deal of? Fuck, Alice! You asked me if it bothered me that we didn’t use birth control, and I said no!’

‘You’re such a weirdo.’

‘Then we balance each other out. Because you’re so perfect. Obviously.’

I beam another smile. ‘Is right!’

We hold eyes, and I mentally say the things I will never say to him. With each passing day, Justin is turning out to be less and less like any man I’ve known, when it comes to his perspective on life, his maturity, and the fact that he genuinely seems to care about things that don’t just directly impact himself. He never appears confused, like all the others – when it comes to what he wants and, more importantly, about whether he wants me. He seems so certain of us that I do not trust it. I will eat, sleep, wake up, and the fact that Justin is there beside me, happy to be with me, still feels like something sent to mess with me.

I owe him my seriousness, though, as it is a serious subject. ‘I do want children, Justin – just to finish this point. Very much. But I would never rush into something to make it happen. I tend to be the kind of person who accepts things for what they are. Everything happens for a reason. So if it never happens, then some things are just not meant to be. I’ll be at peace with my life, whether or not kids are a part of it.’

A lovely warm expression lights his eyes; I can’t stop looking at them. ‘I love that you have that perspective on things.’ He takes hold of my hand, momentarily mesmerised by the sight of my fingers in his. ‘It’s just important for me that you know that I’m not going to string you along. I’m not the kind of person who would do that to someone. I didn’t do it to Lisa, and I’d certainly not do it to you.’

Lisa. Justin rarely speaks of his ex-girlfriend. I am still not crystal clear on why they broke up. So when her name suddenly comes up again, it resonates with me perhaps more than it should.

I go on looking at him. He wants marriage and a baby. He’s a fair person – he truly cares about me, perhaps on the same level as he cares about himself, because he doesn’t want to string me along, any more than he wants to be strung along himself. How did I find this fabulous man? And yet am I ready for all that he is? Can I be the lawyer’s wife, and mother of his children? Can I cope with his structure? With the intense, serious, sorted-out person he is – who, in many ways, is the very opposite of me? And then it dawns on me: What am I thinking? Of course I can cope! It’s everything I’ve always wanted. Love. Stability. Family. A decent man. And I love him. Let’s not forget that.

He gets up. He crosses the room and gazes out of the window into the spotted nightlights of Newcastle. ‘I know we’ve not known each other forever, and I hope you don’t think this is all moving too fast, but I feel something. It’s just a sense of optimism every time I look at you. I felt it from day one.’

I am with him on this. I’d have called it rightness. Overwhelming, incontestable rightness and belonging. Yet coming out of his mouth, optimism feels bigger. I stare at his back, his broad, bare shoulders, suddenly remembering what he said about the ill health in his family. I say a silent prayer, even though I am not the praying type: Please God, don’t let anything happen to him, like it did to his dad.

He turns around, meets my eyes and smiles. The qualities that make Justin different from any man I’ve known are the things that make me love him and yet are also the things that make me worry. He isn’t emotionally one-dimensional. He doesn’t seem to roll with the punches. There is a soft, gentle, thinking side to him that makes me wonder how strong he would be when push comes to shove. Though he would hate that I thought this.

‘So . . . are we in love?’ I ask him. I think of him just mentioning Lisa and wish he’d never said that name.

‘Are you in love?’ he asks.

Not how the answer was meant to go. ‘Well . . .’ I try to sound light. ‘I’ve always had this policy of not being the one to say it first.’

It isn’t true. Normally, I am the first one to say it: sometimes the only one. And the crazy thing is, sometimes I’d said it when I hadn’t even felt it, which makes me wonder why I had this need to declare bogus feelings just to get them to state where they stood. Why did I want to know if they loved me first, before deciding whether it was mutual? It felt more than a little messed up.