With This Man Page 16

  ‘How am I supposed to recognise a woman who tried to steal my husband if I don’t even know where we keep the fucking mugs?’ A door slams, and she stills, though her body is rolling, fired up by her anger.

  ‘The mugs are in the top left-hand cupboard,’ I say quietly. ‘The plates in the bottom right-hand one. The knives and forks are in the drawer under the hob, and the breakfast cereals are in the pantry cupboard. In the morning, after I’ve made love to you, you come down and put on the coffee machine. Then you take a shower and get ready while it brews. You put a load of washing on around eight, and you make the kids’ lunches. You rub moisturiser cream into your hands every time you get them wet, and you always put the dishwasher on before you leave to take the kids to school and go to work. After dinner, you let me tidy up. That’s my job. To load the dishwasher while you help the kids with their homework. And when we’re done, we snuggle on the couch and watch some TV before you load the coffee machine for the morning and get the kids’ cereals laid out ready for when they’re up. Then I carry you to bed and make love to you.’ I pause for a beat, finding it so hard to say such simple things without letting my voice crack. ‘You fall asleep on my chest. I know if something is on your mind because you’re restless. Mostly, you don’t move from my chest all night. And when you wake up, you roll off me and I spoon you, waiting for you to push your arse into me. Waiting for you to tell me you’re ready to be woken up with some sleepy sex. And then we start all over again.’ I swallow and bite down on my back teeth, my devastation returning tenfold. All those simple things. Gone.

  Ava slowly turns, and I see the river of tears pouring down her distraught, beautiful face. ‘I want to do it all. All those things. I want to do them all. I want my life back. With you. With the kids.’ Her voice is becoming distressed, and she takes the side of the worktop to hold herself up.

  I’m across the kitchen and hugging her to me before I have a chance to think, letting her cry her despair into my T-shirt. My own tears tumble into her hair, our reality too much for both of us. All I can do is hold her. Be there for her. Love her. And all she can do is depend on me for . . . everything.

  ‘Will you do something for me?’ she whispers into the material of my T-shirt.

  Stupid question. ‘Anything.’

  ‘Will you show me our wedding pictures again? Will you tell me who all the people are?’

  I stall answering, but only because I don’t know if I could take her breaking down some more. Seeing her so hopeless and fraught is soul crushing. ‘Sure,’ I answer, knowing I can’t deny her that. ‘Want to do it now?’

  She fists the material of my T-shirt, breathing in as she looks up at me. Her eyes. Her gorgeous dark brown eyes are welling, and I reach up to wipe under them. ‘Please.’

  ‘Come on.’ I lift her from her feet and gently help her get her legs around my waist. ‘Comfy?’

  Her answer is her face in my neck and her arms circling my shoulders tightly.

  Walking us to the study, I place her down on the couch and plump a cushion for her, helping her to get comfortable. Her small smile of thanks should please me. It doesn’t. It hurts, because she should never have to thank me for being her husband.

  I wander over to fetch the laptop and settle beside her, whirling my fingertip across the mouse pad. The screen comes to life, and I click the file for our wedding shots. A massive smile immediately spreads wide across my face. ‘Look how beautiful you are.’ So much fucking lace, I didn’t know whether to worship her or rip it all off. ‘Do you know how hard it was for me to keep myself under control that day?’

  ‘Well, no, since I can’t remember a stupid . . . wait, are those handcuffs around our wrists?’ Edging forward in her seat, she gets up close and personal with the screen. ‘They are. They’re bloody handcuffs!’

  I smile, smug. ‘Your mother wasn’t best pleased.’

  Ava snorts, obviously imagining Elizabeth’s reaction. ‘I can’t believe you handcuffed me on our wedding day.’

  ‘Believe it.’ I point to the screen. ‘Hard evidence right there.’

  She’s silent for a moment, observing as she relaxes into my side, her palm lying on my bicep. ‘Just tell me one thing.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Are you older than my mother?’ She looks up at me seriously.

  Is she fucking kidding me? If I didn’t have a computer on my lap and her tucked into my side, I’d drop to the carpet and smash out fifty press-ups. Older than her mother? ‘Do I look older than your fucking mother?’ The nerve. I feel a stressed sweat coming on. How old does she think I am?

  ‘Well, Mum’s early forties. I’m guessing you’re there or thereabouts.’

  It takes me a few seconds to process her words, and then I realise . . . ‘Ava, your mother is sixty.’ Relief sends me dizzy. In her head, her parents are the same age they were in her last memory, and her last memory was when she was in her early twenties. ‘You’re not in your early twenties any more, baby.’

  ‘Oh yeah,’ she whispers, looking down at her stomach, remembering the stretch marks that tell her she’s a mother, then to the boobs she’s clearly not happy with.

  ‘Look.’ I gently nudge her with my elbow before she falls into despondency, pointing at the screen. ‘You know who that is.’

  ‘Kate. She looks a bit miserable.’

  Ava’s right. She looks like she’s licking piss off a stinging nettle. Then I notice Dan and Sam in the background. And I remember. ‘She and Sam weren’t talking,’ I tell her.

  ‘Sam?’ she questions, but then quickly holds up her hand to halt my explanation. ‘Kate’s boyfriend!’ She sounds almost excited. ‘Kate told me all about him in the hospital. I cannot believe she’s pregnant!’

  ‘That’s right.’ I smile down at her gleaming eyes and then continue to walk her through all the guests at our wedding. It’s a lot to absorb, but she seems to take it in her stride.

  ‘And this is Georgia,’ I continue when we’re past the wedding shots.

  ‘Raya’s and Drew’s daughter?’

  ‘Drew’s her father, yes. He’s recently asked Raya to marry him. But Georgia’s mother’s name is Coral.’ I pause a beat, maybe thinking the name might spike something. Nothing. Her face is blank. ‘She tricked Drew into getting her pregnant because she was in love with me and tried to pass the baby off as mine.’ I quickly spit it all out and smile awkwardly when Ava swings disbelieving eyes onto me.

  ‘What?’ she asks, incredulous.

  ‘We had some real interesting times, you and me.’

  She’s silent, just staring at me with round eyes. ‘How the hell did our relationship survive all this?’

  That gets my back right up, and my epic scowl must tell her so. ‘Because we were made for each other, that’s why. Because I loved you and you loved me. We got through so much, and more, so I know we can get through this.’

  ‘You were a slut.’

  ‘Was. That changed the second I clapped eyes on you.’

  She sniffs, casually returning her attention to the screen. ‘Except the time you cheated on me.’

  For the love of all things calm, someone help me out! I breathe in and out slowly, forcing back my barrage of blue language and the temptation to deliver one huge fuck. I’m not sure which one would be most suitable for sarcasm. The Punishment Fuck, maybe? The Sense? I’m pondering that with far too much energy for a man in my situation, just punishing myself as a result. I need to pull this back to the important stuff.

  ‘Let me tell you about the time I made an Ava éclair out of you.’ I settle a little, reliving that wonderful night. ‘I slathered you in chocolate and cream and licked it off to my heart’s content. You stripped for me. It was sexy as fuck but hilarious watching you trying to gain the upper hand.’

  She looks up at me with a soft smile and a hint of sadness behind her eyes. She wants to rememb
er so much, and I can see with perfect clarity that it’s killing her that she can’t, just as much as it’s killing me.

  ‘You’ve not heard the half of it, Ava,’ I tell her. ‘The things we’ve done, the times we’ve had. So many amazing memories.’

  ‘I know.’ Her hand reaches for my face and cups my cheek, smoothing down my bristle. ‘And even if I can’t remember them right now, I love hearing you tell our story.’ She smiles. ‘Most of it, anyway.’

  I close my eyes and nuzzle a little into her palm, kissing the centre. I don’t want to get ahead of myself, but I feel like she’s falling for me all over again. For the most part, being with each other today has been so easy and natural. Even the silly squabbles are us. Her reactions to me, in every way, are perfectly Ava and perfectly us. I ask myself if I would be satisfied with only finding her love again. Would it be enough without her memories? Of course, I’d make it enough. But part of our connection is everything we’ve shared since we met. The things that made us stronger. But it isn’t just about the things that brought us closer and made us stronger. It’s not just about piecing all that together for her and for me. There’s one thing that she just has to remember. Or two things. Maddie and Jacob. I can’t let those memories fade, no matter how many more we’ll create. She has to have all of their years back. She just has to.

  My phone rings and Ava reaches for it. Jacob’s FaceTiming me, and as Ava stares down at his gorgeous face on my screen, I don’t have the faintest idea what to do. I don’t want to upset my boy and I don’t want to upset Ava. I’ve spoken to the kids twice every day, but only when Ava has been in the shower.

  ‘How come I can see his face?’ she asks, and I stall, confused for a moment.

  Then I remember that my girl isn’t just missing sixteen years of memories. She’s missing sixteen years of technology advancement. ‘It’s FaceTime. Like a video call.’

  ‘Oh.’ Her bottom lip disappears between her teeth. ‘You should answer,’ she says, handing me my ringing phone. ‘I want to see them.’

  I’m stunned. Happy but wary. ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Yes.’ She thrusts the phone at me. ‘Answer.’

  ‘I don’t want to upset them, Ava,’ I say, hating myself for it. If I protect my kids, I hurt Ava. I can’t win this one.

  The phone rings off, and sad eyes glance up at my useless form. ‘Please.’ She’s begging, and it’s like a knife through my heart. ‘I need to see them. To speak to them.’ She swallows, shaking her head to herself. I know there’s a part of her missing so much more than her memories and me. She’s spent countless hours in their bedrooms, just lying on their beds, hoping it’ll trigger something. Maybe I was wrong to send them away. ‘It’s an ache in here.’ Reaching up to her chest, she flattens her palm over her heart, and her wedding ring sparkles at me. ‘Today has been wonderful, and it would finish it off perfectly if I could see them.’

  My throat clogs with guilt, sadness, and too many other emotions to swallow down at once. How can I refuse her? I take the phone from her hand and dial Jacob, forcing back any signs of apprehension. I sit back on the couch and encourage Ava to come close as it rings and connects. And then he’s there. My boy. His hair is damp and he’s in a wetsuit. ‘Hey, buddy.’

  His face is halfway between excitement and uncertainty. ‘Mum?’

  ‘Hey,’ Ava chirps, genuinely happy. She can see her boy’s unease, and instinct is telling her to right it. My fucking heart booms in my chest.

  There’s a few bangs in the background, a door, I think, and Jacob is suddenly ambushed by his sister. ‘Is Mum there?’ Maddie asks, a little frantic as she appears on the screen with Jacob. ‘Mum!’ She has no unease, just pure excitement.

  Ava leans forward to get closer, touching the screen with her fingertip. ‘How are you two? Having fun with Nan and Pap?’

  ‘We’ve been surfing,’ Maddie tells her enthusiastically. ‘Well, me and Jacob did. Pap stuck to the boogie board.’ Ava laughs, and, God, I could cry. ‘Mum, did you get your memory back?’ Maddie, bored of surf talk, asks the question I knew she would, while Jacob would only think it.

  Ava smiles. ‘We’ve made progress.’ She looks up at me. ‘Haven’t we, Dad?’ Her look suggests I should pull it together. I quickly brush at my eyes and clear my throat.

  ‘Great progress,’ I confirm.

  ‘Tell us what you’re doing,’ Jacob pipes up.

  ‘Your dad took me out on his bike today,’ Ava begins. ‘We had a walk in the park, stopped at a café, and ate my favourite for lunch.’ She smiles, and I resist the urge to remind her that she didn’t actually eat her favourite lunch. ‘Now we’re looking at pictures from our wedding.’

  ‘And do you remember any of it?’ Maddie’s dark brown eyes, a mirror image of her mother’s, glimmer with so much hope, I just can’t see it dashed.

  ‘There have been some things, yes,’ I jump in, putting my arm around Ava’s shoulders and squeezing her closer. ‘Like your mum knows things, but she’s not quite sure how she knows them.’

  ‘Like what?’ Jacob asks.

  ‘Like I knew how to ride on the back of Dad’s bike. But I don’t ever remember riding a bike before today. How cool is that?’ Ava claps her hands excitedly. All I can see is sincerity in her. Nothing but a mother’s desire to make sure her kids are happy and reassured, no matter what. Her way with them, even if she has no idea, is Ava through and through. It’s inside her, and it isn’t lost. ‘Then he took me on a romantic walk through the park to where we had one of our first dates.’

  Both of them look at each other on a roll of their eyes and mimic throwing up with their fingers in their mouths. I laugh, as does Ava. ‘What else did you remember?’ Jacob presses on, done with the sloppy stuff.

  ‘I remember some things your dad has said to me in the past. But enough of that. How is everything there?’ Ava settles back on the couch and gets comfortable, chatting happily with our kids for a good ten minutes. And I remain where I am, content to watch her. I could leave the room and she wouldn’t notice, and for the first time in my life, it doesn’t hurt to know she wouldn’t miss me if I were not here.

  When she’s done, she blows them both a kiss on a promise to call tomorrow, and sighs when she’s hung up, looking down at the phone on a mild smile. It’s a good few minutes before she snaps from her daydream and seeks me out.

  ‘I didn’t want to say goodbye, anyway,’ I tease quietly.

  She laughs lightly and settles her head on my chest. ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘Never apologise for loving our children more than me.’ I realise my error the second it’s fallen from my big gob. Love me. Does she? Can she? Will she?

  ‘I love you all the same,’ she argues quietly, pulling my stare down to the back of her head. There’s unmistakable uncertainty in her tone.

  ‘I don’t expect you to wake up from a coma with no recollection of me and instantly be in love with me, Ava.’ Never has it hurt so bad to say something.

  Turning onto her back slowly, her head on my lap, she looks up at me. ‘I love our children,’ she tells me, her hand on her heart. ‘I can feel it in here.’

  I place my hand over hers and squeeze, trying not to allow myself to be disappointed. A mother’s instinct is stronger than anything else in existence. It might hurt, but it also injects me with more fortitude. If the next few days are anything like today, Sarah aside, then she’ll be head over heels with me in no time.

  I hope.

  I pray.

  There’s no doubt the lust is there. I take comfort from the fact that this is how it started for us. That lust. That desire. The need to be all over each other. I see it in her now – the restraint it’s taking to hold back, the overwhelming urge to ravish me. I have to let her go at her own pace, and that pace has accelerated satisfyingly today. But I know she’s holding back, too, and I have a feeling deep inside me that
it’s because she’s scared. She’s scared of how she feels for me without even really knowing me. Just like she was scared all those years ago.

  Ava tries to suppress a yawn, and makes a terrible job of it.

  ‘Time for bed.’ I get to my feet and help her up. ‘You must be exhausted.’

  She lets me lead her by her shoulders upstairs. I smile privately, but feel a little guilt creep up on me. She’s overdoing things, and it’s my fault.

  The usual flurry of nerves descends the closer we get to our bedroom. Today has been a huge step forward. Would it be too much to ask . . .?

  ‘Goodnight.’ She turns at the door and takes the handle, biting her lip as she moves back.

  I die. Over and over inside, I die. ‘Goodnight.’ I turn quickly and make my way to the spare room before she can see the devastation on my face. Clearly it is too much to ask.

  Closing the door softly behind me, I strip down to nothing and crawl into the unfamiliar bed. It’s cold and lonely.

  I toss and turn for hours, sleep nowhere to be found, not that it’s much of a surprise. I’m about to give up and go and put myself on the couch, when I hear a stirring on the landing. Worried, I make to get up and go to check on Ava, but the sound of the door handle stills me. Light creeps into the room through the small gap, and the silhouette of a body I’d recognise anywhere appears. I slowly ease down to my back. It’s fucking ridiculous that my heart starts hammering. It’s fucking ridiculous that I dare not move. It’s fucking ridiculous that I’m nervous.

  She pads on light feet across the room and gently pulls back the covers a little before crawling in beside me. I’m like a fucking statue, letting her lift my arm so she can burrow into my side. She settles, palm on my pec, cheek on my chest. It’s one of the most beautiful moments of my life. So simple. But so significant. She can’t sleep without me. I don’t care that there’s a barrier of lace between us. I don’t care that she’s technically in the wrong position. And then she sighs and she’s on the move again, crawling onto my chest and spreading her body all over me, face in my neck. I smile, discreetly inhaling her into me, bringing my arm around her back and holding her to me.