‘I suppose so.’
In an instant, I decide to keep the truth to myself: that he’d already decided to move on, even before the accident. I’ve got a decent excuse, ready-made protection from blame, and I’m going to use it.
‘To be honest,’ Carla goes on, ‘I’ve never seen him so relaxed … so happy. I’m pleased for him, for all of you. Honestly. Now, go on.’
She motions to the doorway.
Leaving the pushchair in the lobby, I take the changing-bag and walk through into Dan’s office. I find him standing by the window, gazing out over the Thames. He’s jacketless, wearing charcoal grey trousers and a matching waistcoat, and he’s every bit as delectable as the first time I ever laid eyes on him. I’m just admiring his backside when Jack lets out a squeal.
Dan turns.
‘You took your time,’ he grins, coming over to join us.
‘Well, I would have been here earlier, but somebody decided to fill their nappy before we left.’ I drop the bag on the floor. ‘So, I changed their nappy, and then they filled it again.’
‘Oh, oh.’
Slipping an arm around my waist, he delivers a kiss that would go on forever if it weren’t for the baby wriggling in my arms. Dan pulls back, looks down and ruffles Jack’s blond fluffy hair.
‘Hello, little man. Have you been good for Mummy?’
Jack lifts his mouth into a lop-sided, gummy grin.
‘I think that’s a yes.’ Taking the baby from me, he sinks onto a sofa. Immediately, Jack pushes himself to his feet.
‘Two months old, and he’s trying to walk,’ I observe. ‘He’s got your genes. In a rush to do everything.’
‘Determined,’ Dan confirms, smiling at his son. ‘You carry on like that and you’ll get everything you want in life … just like Daddy.’
With a delighted squawk, Jack tries to bounce, landing a foot on Dan’s crotch in the process.
‘Well, that’s enough of that,’ Dan winces, encouraging the baby back onto his bottom.
‘All done?’
‘All done.’
Completely oblivious to the fact that a tiny hand has managed to grab hold of his tie, he surveys the office, his desk, the sofas, the huge glass meeting table.
‘Sixteen years,’ he muses.
‘Second thoughts?’
He shakes his head.
‘I just don’t know where the time’s gone.’ He looks round again. ‘This place has some fond memories, but only from the last few months. I should have had the furniture put in storage, especially this couch.’ He focusses back on Jack. ‘This is Daddy’s favourite couch. It should have a plaque.’
Because it was the site of our first full-on sexual encounter.
‘There’ll be other couches,’ I smile.
‘There certainly will. And desks. And windows. And maybe bathrooms. I’ll have a great office at the new gallery.’ He pulls a silly face at Jack. ‘Mummy needs to come and see it … all on her own.’
I sit next to Dan, and I just can’t help it. Even now, at the eleventh hour, I’m still plagued by uncertainty.
‘Was this the right thing to do?’
‘Chill your beans, wife.’ Carefully, he pulls his tie out of Jack’s mouth. ‘I’m finally getting to live the way I want to live. The galleries won’t consume me, not like this place. I’ll have more time with you and the milk monster.’
While Jack lurches forward, grabbing for his tie again, Dan locks eyes with me, and I gaze into those bright blue irises, reassured by their softness.
‘I’ll be right behind you.’ I put a hand on his knee.
‘And I’ll be right behind you too. You need to get back to painting.’
He’s right. I haven’t touched a paintbrush since the birth.
‘I’ll do it soon, but I’m not having a nanny.’
‘You don’t need a nanny. I’ll be around.’
Jack squeals again, this time through a mouthful of regurgitated milk and before I can do anything about it, Dan’s trousers have been spattered.
‘Oh God,’ he groans. ‘Wipes!’
Leaping up from the sofa, I scramble through the bag, pull out the wipes and offer them to him. Taking the pack, he lifts an eyebrow, refuses my help and does his best to clean up the mess, one-handed. There’s no time to dry out the trousers and I know for a fact the spare suits have already been returned to the apartment. He’ll just have to make his grand exit, looking like he’s lost control of his bladder. He throws the used wipes onto the table and makes a face at Jack.
‘Oh dear.’ Clive’s at the doorway now, with Lucy at his side. ‘What’s going on?’
‘Baby sick all over Mr Mean and Hot and Moody,’ I explain. ‘All part and parcel of parenthood.’
While Dan frowns, evidently confused by my code name for him, Clive approaches and holds out his hands.
‘Come to your godfather.’ He takes Jack and admires him. ‘He looks more like you every day. It’s a tiny Dan.’
‘I should hope so, seeing as he is the dad,’ Lucy adds, kissing Jack on the head. ‘So, are you ready to stay the night with Uncle Clivey and Auntie Lucy?’
I sense a pang, deep down inside. I know it’s Dan’s big day – and he’s determined for us to have a ‘special evening’ to celebrate – but I’m not sure I’m ready to let Jack go.
‘I don’t know about this,’ I muse, gazing at him. ‘He’s so little.’
‘He’ll be fine,’ Lucy counters.
‘I just don’t know …’
‘He’ll be fine,’ she repeats, glaring at me. ‘The trial run was a success.’
‘That was an afternoon. This is a whole night.’
‘Stop moaning. Me and Clivey are more than capable of looking after little Jack. It’s not difficult. You put stuff in here.’ She points at his mouth. ‘And stuff comes out of here.’ She pats his bottom.
He giggles.
