Fix You (25 page)

“Do you want me to take him?” Richard’s voice was still low.
He was distracted by her skin. He could remember the way it tasted.

“I think he’s frightened, he doesn’t recognize where he is.
I feel a bit disoriented myself.” Their eyes caught and locked, and for a
moment they were silent, feeling the blanket of energy pushing down on them
all. Then Matty opened his mouth again and screamed.

Richard reached forward and ran his hand across Matty’s
cheek. It surprised him enough to quiet him momentarily while he took in the
change. “Hey, Matty, it’s sleep time,” Richard murmured, his hand gentle but
firm.

“Daddy.” Matty reached out to him, his voice a plaintive
wail. Richard scooped him up, relieving Hanna of the burden, holding his son
tightly against his chest in an attempt to make him feel safe. It seemed to
work; his breathing became slower, more regular, and his hand moved up to his
mouth, thumb extended. Richard rubbed his back, swaying gently in time to a
silent rhythm, his head buried in his son’s hair.

He smelled so good.

“Shall I try to put him down?” Richard asked, looking up at
Hanna. She was standing by the dining table, fiddling with the kettle.

“Yes, please. I think I’ll put him in the bed with me. I don’t
want to risk him falling out of his cot again, it could have been so much
worse.”

Richard walked into her room, the fragrance both familiar
and enticing. It reminded him of lazy days in London, and frantic nights in New
York. Matty yawned, thumb firmly stuck in his mouth, and let Richard lay him on
the undented pillow, his eyes fluttering under the weight of his fatigue.

“Try to sleep.” He leaned forward and kissed Matty’s cheek,
the plump skin smooth against his lips. Matty sighed, twisting his body until
he was lying on his side, legs curled under his diapered rump. He stayed for a
moment, watching his son as his lips worked themselves against his thumb, the
occasional slurp breaking the silence of the night.

“Sweet dreams,” he murmured, walking out of the bedroom and
pulling the door closed behind him. He glanced around, spotting Hanna sitting
on the plush upholstered sofa, her legs curled beneath her, hands wrapped
around a mug of tea.

“I made you one, in case you’re thirsty.” She pointed over
at the table. Richard walked over and retrieved the cup. The steam rose up as
he lifted the mug to his lips, hot sweet liquid spilling over the rim into his
mouth. He swallowed it like a dying man.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Hanna’s reply was rigidly polite. Richard
wondered what would crack the barrier; bring it falling down until all that was
left was raw wounds and honesty.

“I never got to apologize for the ambush at the airport.” He
smiled nervously, trying not to look at her too closely. Even though the
pajamas she had on were fairly conservative—a tank and long, black pants—they
were strangely erotic to look at, knowing she was bare underneath. He knew all
too well what she looked like when naked.

His conflicting emotions were hard enough to handle in the
daylight, let alone the dark gloom of night.

“It wasn’t your fault. I knew I had to see them at some
point.” She took another sip, soft lips touching china. He watched as she
swallowed, eyes closing momentarily to savor the tea.

“I thought it went surprisingly well, considering.” Richard
sat down on the sofa beside her, his legs inches from her feet. He wanted to
lift them up, put them on his lap and rub them.

He didn’t.

“They’re always gracious. I know it must have been hard,
being civil to me after all that’s happened.” Hanna reached forward and put her
cup on the coffee table. “They seemed to like Matty, though. That’s all that
matters.”

“It will get easier, you know, every time we tell people.”
He watched her breath hitch when he said the word
we
. “Things can only
get better.”

She smiled, lighting up the dark room. Despite her
tiredness, and the tension of the day, she was still heartbreakingly beautiful,
like a work of art. Since becoming a mother, her breasts were rounder, her
cheekbones more defined. But it was the inner change that affected him the most,
watching her interact with their son. He could so easily fall in love with the
way she adored Matty.

Hanna cleared her throat. “I haven’t told my dad yet. I was
going to visit him after telling you while I was in New York. I guess I’ll
catch up with him after we arrive.” Her brow crumpled.

“If it makes you feel any better, I’ll be having a talk with
my mother when we get back, too,” he replied.

Hanna raised her eyebrows. “It never ends, does it? Just
when you think the hardest part is over, something else comes up to take its
place.”

Richard reached his hand out, then pulled it back, running
his finger over the pattern of the sofa. Lifting his head, he looked at her,
his expression serious. “You know, when I came to London to find you gone, I
thought I’d never be happy again.” Her face stilled at his words. “I thought it
would be so easy; I’d come to your flat, sweep you off your feet and carry you
back to Manhattan.”

Hanna leaned toward him, eyes glistening. She looked like
she wanted to say something, but her lips remained still, her teeth worrying
the bottom one.

He took another breath, not sure where he was going with
this. He wanted to tell her—needed her to know—just what he’d been through. But
to hurt her was to hurt himself.

“I feel like I’ve just existed for two years, like I put
things on hold. And to know that I could have spent those two years with Matty
and with you…” His voice broke before he could finish his sentence.

“I’m so sorry.” Hanna scrambled to her knees, grabbing his
hand and pulling it against her face. “I know I fucked up everything. If I
could go back and change it I would.” Her tears moistened his fingers, and he
moved his thumb against her cheek, wiping them away. “I hate that you missed
out, and I hate that I believed you were still with Meredith. Even worse than
that, I had a piece of you with me, and you had nothing.”

Richard twisted his hips, turning to face her. Her skin was
smooth under his rough fingers, pulled taut against her cheekbones. Just a few
inches and he could caress her neck, tangle his fingers into her hair. Pull her
against him until their lips…

He shook his head, trying to empty it of conflicting
emotions. He wanted to pull her onto him, kiss the holy shit out of her, and
grind his aching body against hers until she was begging him for more. But
there was a deeper, angrier part of him that wanted to shake her until her
teeth rattled, scream at her until she was begging him for mercy.

He needed to go to bed, alone. He didn’t trust himself not
to hurt her. He couldn’t depend on her not to hurt him. The web just kept
getting stickier.

THE FLIGHT TO New York was as fraught
as they’d expected. At first, Matty had been distracted by the movies on the
screen in front of him: Hanna pointing out his favorite characters as she tried
to stop him from taking the earphones off his head. Then he’d gone through a
manic twenty minutes halfway through the flight, trying to escape from them and
run down the aisle, not understanding that he needed to sit still. Richard had
held him, walking him around the cabin until his head nodded heavy with sleep,
before laying him across their laps, hands stroking as he dreamed peacefully.

They didn’t speak of the previous night. Hanna’s tears, and
his own embarrassing response were buried at the bottom of their bigger
troubles. Matty was their shield and their glue, binding them together while
allowing them to ignore everything else that went on between them.

“I’ve asked the staff to prepare rooms for you and Matty,”
Richard said, his hand stroking his son’s hair. “I’ve arranged for a bed
instead of a cot, in case of any more Houdini escapes.”

Hanna tried to crack a smile. “He’ll have to stick to
safe-cracking and base jumping instead, I guess.” She met his gaze. “Thanks for
letting us stay while I look for something more permanent.”

It was early evening when they arrived at his apartment.
Matty was surprisingly subdued, as if he’d worn off all his energy on the
plane. His head lolled against Hanna’s arm as he stared out of the car window,
his teeth scraping rhythmically against his thumb. Occasionally, something
would take his interest and he’d point, using single words to ask what it was.
Hanna would patiently say the word, explaining more about it, and Richard tried
not to watch the way her lips moved as she spoke.

He was going crazy having them so close to him, but it would
be so much worse when they moved out. He wanted to find a way to keep them
near, so he could watch over them, and make sure they were safe. It wasn’t
enough just to have them in the same city, he wanted them under his roof.

Jack brought their luggage up, putting Hanna’s cases in her
room, unsure of what belonged to her or Matty. She’d packed a smaller bag with
their overnight things, and quickly bathed him before putting him in a snug
onesie covered with pictures of cars. Richard lingered in the room, watching
his son play with the plastic toys he’d asked Lisa to order for him, smiling as
he crawled from the plastic garage to the kitchen, his eyes wide with delight.

“It looks like Toys ‘R’ Us just threw up in your apartment,”
Hanna observed, watching Matty bang a plastic saucepan against his head. “It
seems so incongruous.”

Richard scratched his chin. The apartment clearly hadn’t
been decorated with children in mind; a glance at the white walls and raw silk
upholstery was enough to give that little snippet away. But somehow, having his
son here, being surrounded by childhood paraphernalia, attracted him to the
apartment more than any thousand-dollar designer could.

“I just ordered the basics. We’ll have to work out what else
we need.” He caught her eye. Her chocolate brown irises were huge, and she
stared right back, her lips slightly parted. Then she looked down, eyelashes
grazing her cheeks, her fingers trembling as she reached for their son.

“I’m going to put him to bed. We’ve a long day ahead of us
tomorrow.”

THE FOLLOWING AFTERNOON he was waiting
in Central Park, standing at the duck pond and watching the children throwing
bread. Hanna and Matty were due to meet him at 1:00 p.m., but it was already
quarter past. He was starting to worry.

Somebody threw something heavy in the pond, and the large
splash startled the birds, causing them to flap their wings and skim the water
in their haste to escape. Richard craned his head, spotting a group of
teenagers standing across the water from him, laughing uproariously at their
own foolish actions.

“I’m so sorry we’re late.” Her voice was thick, her eyes
rimmed with red. Matty ran toward him and grabbed his suited legs, sticky
fingers pulling at the worsted fabric.

“How did it go?” He didn’t need to ask. Her expression said
it all.

“My dad was difficult. Told me I was just like my no-good
mother. Then he called Olivia who shouted down the phone, and I could hear her
say Matty would be better off if we had him adopted.” She was staring at the
ground, her fingers twisting at her bracelet. He wanted to reach out and calm
her movements.

“I should have gone with you. I wanted to.” He was going to
do it; he needed to—for her sake as well as his. Stepping forward, he squared
his shoulders, one hand reaching out to touch her arm. She glanced up at him,
eyes shiny, opening her mouth to say words that came out silent.

The next moment she was in his arms, her slim frame
enveloped by his. Richard hesitated momentarily, trying to work out where best
to put his hands, before placing them in the middle of her back, rubbing her
through the thin material of her dress.

“I’m so sorry she said that,” he murmured. “You know she’s
wrong, though. Matty’s been the best thing that happened to both of us in a
long time.”

“He said he didn’t know me.” She sobbed into his shirt. “That
he didn’t
want
to know me. I know I lied to him by omission, but he was
so cruel.” She lifted a hand from his arm and wiped her face, dark smudges of
mascara smearing across her finger. “He reacted so much worse than you did, and
you had so much more to blame me for.”

“I’ve got so much more to thank you for, too.” Richard
scooped Matty up in his arms, and the three of them held each other like a real
family. He wanted to close his eyes and inhale the aroma of happiness. “We
still have a way to go before we sort everything out, but at least we’re both
willing to try.”

They walked over to a bench, and he watched the way the
muscles in her calves flexed with her movement. In the week since they’d been
back in New York, she had caught the sun from spending her days with Matty in
the park, showing him the animals and letting him run free across the grass.

In the evenings, he’d come home to his apartment with a
heart so full it was almost painful. To see Hanna standing in the kitchen,
preparing Matty’s tea, cut him to the core. It was such a pleasant burn. He had
to question himself; was he still attracted to her for who she was, or was he
just wanting the perfect family unit? The way his body stirred whenever she
bent over or leaned down so that the smallest swell of breast was showing told
him it was the former.

She was busy pulling Matty’s lunch from her oversized bag,
scrabbling around for her baby wipes and a bib. Matty leaned back on the bench,
swinging his legs back and forth, and singing to himself using made-up words.

“Did your dad even look at Matty?” Richard knew he was
pulling at scabs, but found it hard to believe Philip would reject his own
flesh and blood. It reminded him of a harsher, more painful confrontation he needed
to have with his own mother. One he was putting off.