is heavy, but strangely light at the same time, as if there are a hundred butterflies preparing to take flight.
‘Oh my goodness,’ she exclaims as she walks into the vast open-plan living area, with floor-to-ceiling windows perfectly framing Tower Bridge. It’s so close that she can see the expression on pedestrians faces as they cross it. ‘It’s beautiful.’
‘Wait until the lights come on,’ says Justin.
‘Look . . .’ she starts, knowing that every second she drags this out will just make it harder. She turns around, to where he’s holding out a chair at a perfectly laid table for two. This isn’t what she wanted. It’s exactly what you wanted, says another voice in her head.
‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have kissed you,’ says Justin. ‘But why don’t we sit down and talk? You’ve clearly got something on your mind and I’m all ears. Just as soon as I get the dinner out of the oven.’
Lauren smiles, grateful to him for injecting some much-needed humour into the situation, but hating him for it at the same time because it makes her love him all the more.
She watches as he pours her a glass of red. ‘Or would you prefer white?’ he asks halfway through. ‘I assume you’re driving?’
She nods. ‘Red’s fine – just the one though.’
He fills the glass and, with a flourish of a tea towel, retreats into the adjoining kitchen. Lauren smiles after him. ‘So do you own this place?’ she calls out as she takes a sip. It would be polite to wait, but she needs all the Dutch courage she can get.
‘No, I’m just renting at the moment,’ he says, before adding, ‘Shit!’
‘You okay?’ Lauren asks. ‘Do you need any help?’
‘Just dropped a potato on the floor, but it’s yours so it’s okay.’
Lauren laughs.
‘So, yeah, I’m just renting it until I sort out what I’m doing. I’ve only been back a few months and this suits me for now, but going forward, what with the kids and all . . .’
Lauren breathes in sharply, waiting for him to carry on, not sure that she wants to hear what he’s going to say.
‘I’m hoping that they’ll want to spend some time over here, so . . .’
‘You’ll probably want a garden then,’ says Lauren, finishing the sentence for him.
‘Garden?’ he says laughing. ‘That’s not my sixteen-year-old’s main priority anymore. I’m more concerned with him having too much of what London’s got to offer by living so close.’
‘Sixteen?’ says Lauren, feeling a little winded, but she doesn’t know why. ‘And how old’s your other child?’
‘He’s just turned eighteen,’ says Justin, as he comes in carrying two plates laden with a traditional roast dinner.
‘Oh,’ stutters Lauren.
‘What, you don’t like it? Don’t tell me you’ve gone vegetarian.’
‘Erm, no . . . no it’s lovely,’ says Lauren. ‘So you had your children quite quickly after . . .’
‘Yes,’ he says.
Lauren doesn’t know if that surprises her in a good way or bad.
‘Of course, I don’t regret having them, but I wished I’d waited a while.’
‘Why?’ she asks.
He sits down heavily opposite her. ‘I think I should have taken more time to . . . to get over you and us . . .’
Lauren looks down at the plate of food on the table.
‘And, selfishly, I suppose if I’d had them later, they’d be younger now and I’d still have little nippers running around instead of ninety-kilo man mountains. I miss those times.’
Lauren smiles uncomfortably as a slow grip snakes its way around her chest. ‘So, two boys then?’
Justin nods. ‘And you? Why didn’t you have children? Or is that too personal a question?’
A potato lodges in Lauren’s throat as she formulates an answer. This is it. This is her chance to be honest. If she tells the truth now, he might just forgive her. If she lets this opportunity slide, there’ll be no coming back from it.
She clears her throat and puts her knife and fork down. ‘There’s something I need to tell you.’
He sits up and mirrors her actions, dabbing his mouth with a napkin.
‘I do have children,’ she says, looking past him and out the window onto Tower Bridge.
‘But I thought—’
‘I don’t know why I said I didn’t,’ she goes on, still unable to look at him for fear of seeing what’s behind his eyes. ‘When I saw you . . . I just . . . I just panicked, and everything came out wrong . . .’
‘But why didn’t you just tell me?’ he says, sounding as confused by