“We should get a lawyer,” he says. My eyebrows rise up when I hear him say “we”. “Do you know any good ones?”
For the first time in days I feel the urge to laugh, because I know a whole bloody chamber full of them, not that it’s any good to me now. “Apart from Simon?”
Niall stares at me for a minute. His next sentence is completely unexpected. “You should call him.”
One minute he’s kissing me, the next he’s telling me to call my husband. I don’t know what to make of it.
“Really?”
“What? You think I’m gonna get all macho and ban you from seeing him?” His lips twitch as if he’s trying to suppress a laugh. “That’s not me, you know that.”
Running his fingers through my ratty hair, he smooths it away from my face. I can’t stop staring at him. Does he know how right he makes me feel? Like I’m not that ditzy girl who broke down for years after Digby’s death. He looks at me as if I’m strong. Capable of anything.
“I love you.” I say it because I can’t think of anything else. Because it feels as though my chest will explode if I keep it in any longer.
This time he has the good grace to look surprised. “Because I told you to call your ex?”
“Because you’re you. I wanted to tell you before, when we were at your studio but...”
He starts to laugh. “You had your mouth full at the time?”
I hit him on the arm but the grin doesn’t slide from his lips. So I lean forward to kiss it away, brushing my mouth against his. He kisses me back and I feel the curve of his lips as his smile widens.
“I love you, too. So fucking much. And that’s why we’re going to sort this out. You, me and a whole army of ex-husbands. Whatever it takes.”
When I call Simon the first thing he does is offer me his house. Of course I decline, telling him I couldn’t afford to run it. The truth is I can’t even picture us there. It’s Simon’s house and always will be.
He sounds relieved when I say no, then starts telling me about a friend of a friend who has a tiny cottage to rent in Brighton. For a minute I think he’s making inane conversation and I feel myself start to bristle. Only then do I realise he’s offering it to me.
“Brighton?” I sound sceptical. “You think I should move there?”
Niall looks from his phone, his expression unreadable. His eyes stay on me as I listen to Simon.
“It’s just an option,” Simon continues. “The cost of living is cheaper than London and children love the sea.”
For a minute I can picture Allegra on the pebbled beach, wind lifting her hair and pinking her cheeks. In my imagination she looks happy and that makes me start to wonder.
“Brighton...” I say again. Niall smiles and looks back down at his phone. “What’s the rent like?”
We talk for a while longer. Simon promises to email some more details of the cottage, and then tells me he’s going to speak with the family law section to find out what I can do. He doesn’t mention last night, or his pleas for me to return.
Maybe he really has accepted it this time.
When we say goodbye I feel almost hopeful, enough to smile at Niall when he stands up and walks toward me.
“What’s that for?”
“What?”
“That smile?”
“You mean this one?” I bare my teeth at him, grinning like a loon. “I’m smiling because you’re lovely. And not at all macho.”
He looks affronted, though I think it’s a ruse. “I’m macho.” When he pulls me into his arms and lifts me off my feet I start to giggle. “And later, when you’re ready, I’ll show you just how macho I can be.”
* * *
Later that evening I’m standing in Niall’s shower, letting the powerful spray wash away the stress of the day. It took some persuasion to take me away from the home, but the support workers promised I could come back after dinner and spend the night with Allegra again.