‘That I found out?’ she asked, feeling the fury mount up again.
‘For everything,’ he whispered. ‘I was trying to do the right thing, and got it so totally wrong.’
‘I don’t know who you are, Freddie. Everything I thought I knew about you – your strength, decency, kindness – isn’t true. You thought spinning me bullshit was doing the right thing?’
‘I am all those things, Dixie, I promise you. Yes, I let you you believe—’
‘Oh, own your bullshit, Freddie, or fuck off.’
‘OK.’ His eyes met hers. ‘Yes, it was a daft lie, but it didn’t come from a desire to deceive. I didn’t know how much you wanted to hear. I didn’t know how to talk about her. There’s never been anyone else till you. I am learning. I was, at least. I love you more than anything else in the entire world. I cannot bear to lose you. I didn’t want you caught up in the past. Daisy is dead, really, inevitably. There’s never been a way back for her.’
‘Well, that’s not what your so-called friends think, Freddie. The ones who think you’re not ready for a relationship, that I am nothing more than an emotional crutch to help you deal with the fallout. They seemed to think she might be back on the scene. That she could be saved. Then where would I be? You selfish bastard!’
The anger was gripping her again.
‘I couldn’t save her. It destroyed me not to be able to cure the person I loved. But I’ve said goodbye. Eventually life support will be turned off and we can bury her.’
‘But how could you love me when you still love her?’ she cried. ‘I won’t play second fiddle to someone else, Freddie.’
‘I love what we had, but I am not in love with her. I am in love with you. Everything about you, your temper, your talent, your dreams. I ache for you… Please.’
‘Don’t, Freddie. I’m not ready to forgive and forget. I was humiliated at your party. There was a massive secret, and I was the only person not in on it. That was your doing. You made your choice. You had your priorities and protecting me was not one. You have hurt me beyond belief. I don’t know if I can find a way back. I have spent my life learning to trust. I know all about loss. I can handle being alone. I finally open myself up to someone and this is the thanks I get.’
Dixie was furious to find herself crying. She pulled her hair over her face as he walked towards her. His arms closed around her. He was whispering indistinct words of comfort into her hair. She felt herself weaken. He pushed the hair away from her eyes and tilted her head up towards him.
‘Look at me,’ he said. ‘You are everything I want, and more.’ His hand started to stroke her cheek and then he let it fall slightly towards her breast. His hand cupped her, and she didn’t stop him, she couldn’t. His touch was everything she remembered. It felt so fucking good.
He whispered into her ear, ‘I love you, Dixie Dressler,’ and she let out a little gasp as he nipped her earlobe. He started to kiss her gently, inevitably. Did she want to stop him? She wanted to want to stop him, but she didn’t. ‘Don’t let this ruin what we have.’ He bit her lower lip. She’d forgotten his smell, like granite in a forest. She could feel herself softening, reciprocating, and she knew she was going to compromise, to forgive, and that felt good. It felt like learning, like progress. She realised maybe it was love, and maybe they could make it work, in spite of, or because, it wasn’t perfect.
Just as her body was starting to ache for him, as she started to capitulate to her desire, to respond to his touch, he pulled away, and moved across the room.
She was furious, every fibre of her body flared on high alert.
‘What now?’ she spat at him. ‘More games? More fucking surprises? You soften me up, and now what, are you going to tell me you have three children by three different women as well as a half-dead ex-wife?!’
She hated him and was furious with herself for losing control.
He turned his back on her and bent down to get something out of his bag. Great, thought Dixie, it’s probably pictures of his other family. Why had she listened to him? That was it, she was done.
Sheepishly, a half smile playing on his lips, he dropped to one knee.
‘Dixie Dressler, I am going to ask you to marry me,’ he said, the smile spreading. ‘So, will you do me the honour of agreeing to be my wife? I mean, if you’ve finished your fire and ice routine.’
Her mouth fell open. His eyes were shining and his smile was infectious. She found herself reaching out for the most enormous emerald she had ever seen, surrounded by a thousand glistening little diamonds. It was definitely bigger than Kate’s.
‘How did you get that so fast?’ she asked suspiciously.
‘Really?’ he said. ‘That’s your answer?’
‘Well?’ she pushed.
‘Well, I was going to ask you that night on Long Island, but you kind of disappeared before I got the chance, so…’
She blushed bright red. She now regretted her wardrobe. Tatty flannel PJs, worn and ripped from age. An old moth-bitten tartan blanket. She hadn’t painted her nails in days. They were chipped, torn and war-scarred. These photos were definitely going to need some photoshopping, but first things first.
‘Yes, I’ll fucking marry you, you bastard! But that doesn’t mean I’ve forgiven you, and that I don’t still want a lot of answers, but yes, yes, yes! God, yes.’
She ran into his arms and knocked him over onto the floor, kissing him hungrily with tears in her eyes.
‘I can’t believe I am actually going to be your wife,’ squealed Dixie.
‘I promise I will keep you safe forever, Dixie. This is just the beginning of your story,’ said Freddie, with tears in his eyes, as his fingers fumbled insider her pyjamas, testing her hot warmth. She was waiting for him.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Ana
Would yellow help? Ana asked herself as she pulled a mustard yellow skirt and daisy yellow blouse from the Monday rail.
‘Ana, will you hurry! We really have to go. I’m sure Dr Skinner won’t care what you’re wearing as long as you’re on time and your foo-foo is clean.’
Foo-foo. Ana rolled her eyes. Was Rex becoming more annoying or was she more intolerant? The more attentive and excited he was, the more irksome.
‘Darling, you look fabulous. I just hope our baby gets your looks,’ said Rex, kissing her paternally on the forehead.
‘And your brains,’ said Ana awkwardly, trying to join in.
When Ana had left the Cotswolds, she did so with a new personal power: strong and independent. The debrief with the girls had given her a new determination to do the right thing, to end things with Rex, whether she was pregnant or not. She was going to live for herself, trust herself, and hope for the best. She wasn’t, she’d thought, the kind of woman who cheats on her man and then lies to him. She wasn’t the kind of woman to be trying for a baby with one man and sleeping with another. This was a new beginning. She was excited.
But life has a way of messing with ethical clarity and personal certainty. She let him lead her downstairs to the taxi. Right now, the less thinking she did, the better. London was raining and summer seemed to have passed over to winter without an autumnal pause. The appointment had been in the diary for six weeks, since the day the egg was implanted and since just before she’d slept with Joel. It was still not 8 a.m. and, with the low cloud cover and persistent rain, it was still dark. She cuddled close to Rex, hiding. Was she terrified of the results of today’s scan? She didn’t know. What’s the difference? It was all out of her hands.