Her face turns worried. “Lance, why don’t you start at the beginning? I find that helps.”
Her words give me a sense of déjà vu. She said that to me before, one of the first times we met. Steeling myself to tell the tale I’m about to, I take a deep breath.
Katie rises from her chair and moves to sit beside me, placing her hand on my arm. I tense at her touch; she has so much power over me. My body reacts to hers on impact.
“It’s me, Lance. I’m the same person I was. You look like you need someone to talk to. I’m here.”
Sometimes actions really do speak louder than words. I lean forward and pick up the cuff of my trouser leg, pulling it upward to reveal the metal that is the replacement for the one I lost. She tenses beside me but doesn’t run.
Embarrassed, not able to look at her, I keep my gaze fixed on my leg.
“What happened?” she whispers, her voice cracking. Her hand tightens on my arm; I never want her to let me go.
I tell her everything. About Dog, my leg, the challenges with Hannah. David’s unexpected arrival in our lives. My rash decision to take him as my own. How I’d never change it, but it’s been the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.
She listens. Only encouraging me to continue with a soft murmur when I fall silent. My fingertips tighten as I deliver each blow. The horror that’s unfolded, and the good now coming of it.
“Lance,” she whispers, tears rimming her eyes. “You’re…”
“Still here. Alive,” I remind her. “Enough about me, I want to hear all about you.”
After a beat, she tells me about the unexpected success of her book and the exciting places it has taken her, the interesting people she’s met and the opportunities landing in front of her. She doesn’t mention a significant person in her life, and it feels wrong to ask. She tells me her name has been officially changed to Katie Clark. Her past is now in the past. The line drawn in the sand.
David’s wailing interrupts our conversation; I go to him automatically, picking him up from his pram and sniffing his diaper.
“Urgh,” I balk. “Someone needs a change.”
Katie watches on raptly as I prepare his mat and change him on the floor. I move as smoothly as possible, which isn’t easy with my leg, but the process feels so natural. I’m just a dad caring for his baby boy. Once he’s fresh, I bring him to the sofa and hold him as he drinks his bottle hungrily.
“Can I hold him?” she asks quietly. A tremor beneath the words.
“Of course.” I smile softly, attempting reassurance.
She takes him into her arms like a woman who has done it a thousand times before, comfortable. David doesn’t make a sound, settling back to his bottle, pale pink lips suckling the nipple.
Katie and I continue to chat until the room phone rings, interrupting us. She passes me my son back, almost sprinting to pick up the handset. Her expression wavers as she answers, the flutter of terror I saw in her eyes back at the cottage a year ago returning for a moment. She twists a smile I don’t believe.
“I know. I’m sorry,” she squeaks. “I never switched it back on after the book signing. I’m sorry to worry you unnecessarily.” Whoever is on the other end responds. Katie winces. “Yes, I’ll call you later. Bye.” The words tumble one after the other, almost blending.
After replacing the handset, she comes back to the sofa. Lowering herself, her expression is somber.
“Everything all right?” Her demeanor is different—defensive and on alert. “Who was that?”
She shakes her head. “Nothing,” she mumbles, but won’t meet my eye. Not wanting to upset the moment, I don’t push her. I’ve been enjoying her company; I don’t want today to end poorly.
“When do you leave?” I ask. A pang of sadness creeps in as I realize this may be the last time I see her. Ever.
“Tomorrow.” Her eyes brighten a little. “Can we keep in touch?” Her words come fast, as if she says them before she can think twice about the question.
“I’d like that.” I smile. “But I’ll need your number because I deleted it. I couldn’t trust myself not to call you.”
She laughs, deep and hearty.
“Me too. I’ve missed you,” she says, leaning forward for a hug. We sit for a while, just enjoying the proximity of each other. The heat, the scent I’ve missed so badly, finally returned.
My temptation to kiss her is intense, but I hold back, not wanting to scare her off. Not wanting to hope too much and have my heart broken again.
“I have to get going,” I say. I need to get out of the room before I blow this completely. I’ve contacted her; she didn’t shut me out. I have no idea if we will ever have a relationship again, but trying to make a move on her today isn’t a good idea. I know that much.