Fix You (23 page)

“Don’t you love him, Richard? Isn’t he gorgeous?” Ruby had
already forgotten Tom’s infraction, and started to make faces at Matty, who
giggled in response. “You look so natural holding him. Have you ever held a
baby before, do you know what you’re meant to be doing?” She looked almost
disappointed to have to stop and take a breath.

“I held you for hours when you were a baby. All clingy and
whiny, not to mention constantly needing your diaper changed.” Richard raised
his eyebrows at Ruby, and her cheeks flushed as she glanced across to see if
Tom had heard. “So I think I’ll do fine.”

The day passed in a blur of diapers, food, and bright
plastic toys. In between naps and play, Richard marveled at what must seem like
a normal Wednesday to anybody else was like a day of miracles to him. His
attention was constantly on his son, watching his chubby legs wobble as he ran
from room to room, the constant need to rush seeming to be his main motivation
in life. He was energetic right up until the moment tiredness hit, and
suddenly, like an electronic toy whose battery had run out, he flagged and
curled up in Hanna’s arms, sucking at his thumb and pointing at a book.

Hanna showed Richard how to run the bath to hit the right
temperature, how to change Matty’s nappy so his constant wriggling didn’t cause
a bigger mess. Everything she did seemed accompanied by a soundtrack of advice
and experience, and part of him wanted to push her away and tell her to leave
him alone. He was an intelligent guy, he was pretty sure he could handle an
eighteen month old child.

Bedtime was perfect. Matty’s room had been decorated before
Hanna gave birth, though she’d refused to find out the sex of the baby. It felt
warm, and calm—like an island oasis after a storm. The two of them walked him
into the nursery together, Hanna holding Matty tightly against her chest, and
he lifted his head up and struggled until she lowered him down, letting his
tiny feet touch the warm wooden floor.

He toddled over to the pale blue bookshelf, pulling out a well-worn
dog-eared book and holding it out in front of him. Walking toward Richard, he
offered it to him with an expression on his face that was hard to read.

“Story.” Like he knew Richard was a novice, Matty held out
his hand, curling it around Richard’s, and together they walked over to the
blue-and-cream plaid rocking chair next to his cot. Richard sat down, helping
Matty as he clambered onto his knees, curling up on Richard’s lap with his
thumb in his mouth.

He held Matty’s head against his chest, luxuriating in the
warmth flowing through his veins. It was almost impossible to believe only two
days earlier he hadn’t even known of Matthew’s existence. Now Matthew
was
Richard’s existence.

“Read,” his son commanded, and Richard suppressed a grin. He
unfolded the cardboard book, being careful not to pull the paper away from the
edges any more than they already had done, and began to read in a soft, deep
tone.

“Once upon a time, in a land far away…”

He turned the pages, reading the words and sharing the
pictures with Matty, watching as his son’s eyelids began to droop, his thick,
pale lashes sweeping his face. Richard reached a hand out and gently cupped
Matty’s cheek, feeling the softness of his skin and the plumpness of his tired
smile. His heart clenched with the thought he’d always have him, always be able
to hold him in his arms. Matty was his now, as much as he was Hanna’s, and he
was determined never to let him go again.

Out of everything that had happened in the past twelve
years, from the way they first met, to the way she had run away from him yet
again, he couldn’t regret a single moment. Not if it had led to the birth of
this child. No matter what he felt toward Hanna—or how he regarded her actions
to date—he couldn’t bring himself to hate a woman who had nurtured Matthew in
the way she had.

All day he’d watched the love spill over from her eyes as
she watched their son, played with him, picked him up when he was crying and
chastised him when he did something wrong. Every movement she made, every word
she spoke, was with Matthew in mind.

He was clearly first in both their lives.

When Matthew was asleep, Richard kissed his soft, light
brown hair before lifting him gently into his cot. Pulling the blanket over him
until his body was covered, he lingered a moment longer, burning the image of
his peaceful son into his mind so he could think about him all night.

Richard turned to leave, seeing Hanna standing by the door,
tears pouring down her face. She was wringing her hands as she stared at the
two of them. Part of him wanted to touch her, to pull her into his arms, but he
didn’t want to give her false hope that all was well between them.

All was far from well.

“Can we talk?” she asked.

“Not tonight.” He was firm. “I’m exhausted, I’m going to
bed.”

“When then?” Hanna was persistent and his cool façade
disappeared.

“On my schedule Hanna, not yours.” He was angry, and she
shrunk away. “It’s been a hell of a day and I’ve got a lot to think about. Good
night.”

“Good night.” Her words were faint and tremulous. It took
everything he had to walk away.

But he did it, and he knew why. This wasn’t about them
anymore. It wasn’t about a girl and a boy who were foolish enough to let love
slip through their hands. It was about their son, a beautiful child who only
deserved to know a life full of happiness and joy.

Matty
was Richard’s life now, and nothing else was going to get in the way.

Twenty Four

May 18
^th
2012

T
he rain was beating down on the tiled roof,
drumming like the hooves of a thousand horses. Hanna sighed loudly, watching as
Matty ran from room to room, desperate in his need to expend some energy. The
summer storm had started suddenly. The yellow-blue of the morning sky was
quickly painted over by grey, the heaviness increasing until the clouds could
no longer contain the rain. There was no gentle patter of raindrops against the
window; the storm started as it meant to go on: hard and harsh.

Matty wasn’t an indoor child. He needed fresh air and grass
and sand. He loved to explore, picking flowers and running after scurrying
animals, squealing with frustration when they eluded his grasp. Being stuck
inside was mere containment. The pressure of his unexpended energy seemed to
grow until Hanna felt it could burst the roof off the house.

He was banging on the door to the orangery. Richard was
inside, working on his laptop. He had muttered something about a video
conference during another of their strained exchanges. Hanna pulled at Matty’s
arm, hushing him as she tried to drag him away.

“No!” Matty’s face compressed with anger. Hanna swallowed
hard and mustered up her mother-courage.

“Come away from the door, Matty.” Her voice was firm. It was
something she had learned; firmness meant you were listened to.

“Not.” Matty shook his head and turned away again, hammering
his fist against the wood. Hanna sighed and scooped him up, lifting him away
from the door. For a moment Matty stared at her, his mouth agape as if he was
surprised she had actually defied him. His lips trembled and his eyes shut
tightly, a wail escaping his throat.

She tried to walk away as fast as she could, but Matty had
surprisingly strong lungs. Only a moment later, Richard opened the door,
walking out into the hall and gazing at her and Matty with a questioning look.

“Is he okay?” His voice was soft as he stared at his son.

“I’m so sorry, we didn’t mean to disturb you. He’s going
stir crazy.”

It was killing her in small, measured stages. A glance here,
a tightly polite word there. Every interaction with Richard was torture, from
the mornings at the kitchen table feeding Matty, to the evenings when he
brushed past her and went straight to his room.

Hanna was desperate to talk. She was dying to listen. She
didn’t care if he wanted to vent, to tell her how much he hated her—he could
shout and scream all he wanted to. She could take it, far better than she could
take his intense, innate politeness.

He had been here for five days. Five days of walking on
eggshells and tiptoeing around their future. It was like he knew this would be
greater torture than shouting at her and berating her.

It was.

Matty started to struggle in her arms, wanting to be put
down, and desperate to run over to his father. Richard advanced toward them, a
smile tugging at his lips, and when he was only a few feet away Matty reached
his chubby arms out, wriggling harder in Hanna’s grasp.

“Dad.” He was almost shouting. “Daddy.”

Hanna froze.

Her chest swelled, pressuring her ribs until she thought she
was going to explode. She looked at Richard, noticing his watery eyes. She
wanted to wipe the tears away before they formed.

“He said my name.”

Hanna nodded, her own tears escaping. Richard lifted Matty
from her arms, pulling him tightly against his chest, cradling his son’s head
in his large palm.

“Can you say it again, Matty?” He whispered. “Say ‘daddy.’”

Matty looked up at his father, his eyes sparkling as he
realized it was another game. He was good at these.

“Daddy.” His words were rewarded with a squeal from Hanna
and a kiss from Richard. They looked at each other again, and Hanna noticed a
softness she hadn’t seen before. She wanted to wrap it around her body and
snuggle within it.

“Such a clever boy.” She reached out her hand and stroked
his head, his soft strands caressing her palm.

Richard continued to stare at her, and she could feel a
blush creeping across her face. Like a magnet, she was drawn in, her own eyes
stuck on his. Emotion bubbled within her like a just-opened bottle of
champagne. He hadn’t forgiven her—she knew that much, and what was worse she
could understand it—but she couldn’t quash the hope one day he might.

“I need to finish my conference.” Richard’s voice was thick
with emotion. There was a tick in his jaw, and she wanted to cup her hand
around his chiseled features and smooth out the tension.

“I’ll take him,” she offered, reaching out her arms. Matty
struggled and held tightly onto Richard. It made them both smile.

“He can come in with me, if that’s okay. It should only be a
few minutes.” They were back to being polite.

Baby steps, she reminded herself.

“That’s fine. I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me.”
Ask
me to join you. Please invite me in.

“We’ll be fine.” He turned around and walked back to the
orangery, pulling the door open so he and Matty could walk inside. Hanna rolled
her bottom lip between her teeth as she watched Richard’s retreating back,
recalling the text message she’d received from Ruby that morning.

Give him time. He’s worth it.

WHEN EVENING CAME, Hanna’s body ached
from polite smiles and walking on tiptoes. Over the past few days, they had
fallen into a routine of eating dinner with Matty, followed by his bath and
bedtime. Richard participated eagerly, his face glowing as he played with his
son, running around the house and avoiding the elephant they both knew was
there in the room.

“He’s asleep,” Richard whispered as he walked out of the
nursery.

Hanna smiled and walked past him, knowing he would be
heading right for his bedroom. She stopped at Matty’s cot, leaning over to
stroke his peaceful face, her fingers lingering on the plump skin of his
cheeks.

“Goodnight, sweet prince.” She kissed her middle and index
finger before pressing them to his forehead. Bedtimes were always bittersweet;
part of her was relieved, knowing at the end of a long day of running after
him, she would have an evening of rest. The other half missed his smiles and
giggles, and the sensation of his warm arms curling around her in love.

She walked quietly out of the room, pulling the door closed
behind her. She was so caught up in her thoughts it took her a moment to
realize Richard was still standing there, leaning against the wall. His hands
were shoved in his pockets, the tendons of his arms tense and defined.

“Do you want to talk?”

Her stomach lurched. It was the moment she’d been waiting
for all week, but now it was here she was trembling with fear.

She nodded, unable to speak for a moment. Richard pushed
himself off the wall and headed for the living room. She trailed in his wake,
her mind a myriad of thoughts and worries.

There was an open bottle of red wine on the coffee table
next to two half-filled glasses. Hanna wondered if it was a good idea to drink
alcohol with Richard near. He already filled her senses until she thought she
would burst. How much worse would it be to face him with the false bravado that
wine would give her?

“I thought this might help.” He lifted a glass and offered
it to her. Hanna grasped the stem, feeling the fragility of the crystal. She
wondered if it would snap if she got any tenser.

“Thank you,” she murmured, sitting opposite him. The coffee
table was between them, a welcome barrier. Lifting the glass to her lips, she
took a sip, letting the warm, ambient fluid dance around her taste buds before
swallowing.

Richard cleared his throat. “Our son is beautiful.”

She nodded again, the lump in her throat growing. “He is.”

“I’m still so fucked up over everything that’s happened, but
we need to concentrate on Matty.” He was running his finger around the rim of
his glass. “His happiness is the most important thing.”

“It’s all I care about,” she agreed with a small voice.

“You’re a wonderful mother, Hanna. I don’t want to take him
away from you.”

She felt like she could breathe for the first time in
forever.

“But I need to be with him, too,” he added, before
whispering. “Now I’ve gotten to know him, I don’t want to let him go.”

“I know.” Her heart filled with love. “I want you to be with
him. You’re his father, and he loves you.” It was clear to her, from the way
Matty stared up at Richard adoringly. “I’ve never seen him accept anybody so
fast.”

Richard drained his glass, before setting it down on the
table. “But the fact remains, we live in different countries. Hell, we’re on
different continents for Christ’s sake.”

There it was again; the barrier which had haunted them for
twelve years, only now with added complications.

“We can make this work,” Hanna argued, unsure of who she was
trying to convince. “If we’re both willing to try.”

Richard leaned forward, and for a moment she wished the
coffee table would disappear.

“I’m willing to try.”

Her mouth was too dry to swallow, and she could feel her
heartbeat start to race as his stare remained on her face. His eyes were dark
in the ambient glow of the lamplight, but the green halo surrounding them kept
her gaze captured.

 “We’ll move to New York, Matty and I.” Her mouth opened
before her brain engaged, but she couldn’t bring herself to feel sorry. “I’ll
find an apartment and we can share custody there.”

His eyebrows rose with surprise. “You’d do that?”

Hanna was almost as shocked as him. She slowly nodded. “Yes,
I’d do that. Matty deserves to see you, not only for holidays, but in the
evenings, and on weekends. I can’t think of another way.”

“I don’t know what to say.”

She gave him a small smile. “There’s no need to say
anything. I’m doing this for me as much as for you two.” She leaned forward and
put her glass down on the table. At the same moment, Richard reached out and
captured her hand in his. She gasped at the contact, the warmth of his hand,
and the roughness of his skin. It was the first time they had really touched in
two years. Memories flooded her soul, until they were a constant ache in her
chest.

She stared at the way his hand curled around hers, the warm
hue of his skin contrasting with her own, paler flesh. Drawing in a ragged
breath, she willed herself to lift up her eyes, wanting to see what emotion was
behind his move.

When she finally looked at his face, she saw him staring
back. His expression was tender. She knew he was grateful for her offer, and
nothing more, but it didn’t stop her heart from racing as she took in his
gentle smile and the shallow lines around his eyes. The years hadn’t diminished
his beauty; he seemed to have grown into his looks, and the way the emotions
were spilling out of her gut she knew of one undeniable fact.

She was still in love with Richard Larsen.

HANNA TRIED NOT to grimace as they
walked across the tarmac, but it was a losing battle when she saw the white jet
waiting for them. It was lower to the ground than she was used to, six
galvanized metal steps away, and the five portholes facing her were gleaming
and bright.

She turned to look at Matty, who was clinging to Richard’s
neck with one arm, his other pointing at the plane.

“That?” he asked, and Hanna allowed herself to smile.

“It’s a plane. It’s going to take us up into the sky.” She
reached out and touched his cheek.

“All the way to London,” Richard added.

And the frown was back again.

“You okay?” he asked, noticing the way she withdrew.

Hanna nodded her head. She would be, once they got the trip
to London over with. She was afraid to see Claire and Steven, and was thinking
of staying in the hotel when Richard took Matty to meet them. She knew she was
a coward, but there was only one way this meeting could possibly end.

In tears.

“I’m afraid this thing is only taking us to London.” Richard
tapped his hand on the jet, making a clanging, metallic sound. “We need to fly
scheduled to New York.”

“How dreadful,” Hanna allowed herself to crack a smile. “I
hate slumming it.”

Richard’s lips twitched. “It wasn’t you I was feeling sorry
for. It was all the other passengers once we let our boy loose on the plane.”

Hanna closed her eyes and tried to picture Matty running up
the aisle of first class, knocking over drinks and disturbing angry
businessmen. Maybe a three-day layover in London wasn’t such a bad thing after
all.

They climbed up the steps. She took Matty from Richard’s
arms as he stopped to chat with the pilot, discussing the flight plan and arrival
times. Walking into the main cabin, she felt herself gasp; it was so very
different to the standard class she usually frequented. The bright colors of
the airline had been replaced by muted cream leather and dark walnut veneer. It
had a calming effect, and as she sat down in her seat, with Matty in her lap,
she allowed herself to relax.