“If your ears hurt, I can take him.” Richard promised, helping Hanna fit the seat-belt extension around Matty’s waist. He was too young to sit alone in a seat.
“I’m hoping they’ll be okay since it’s a shorter flight. It’s the one on Friday I need to worry about.”
Richard rubbed the top of her arm, and she felt herself stiffen. She didn’t want to let him know how much his kindness affected her.
“We’ll see. I’ll be there to help.”
It took Richard longer to get through passport control, again. Hanna used the time to change Matty’s diaper and freshen herself up, trying not to look too closely at her drawn face in the mirror as she applied a stroke of lip-gloss. When they emerged, Richard was waiting for them, his eyes as tired as Hanna’s.
“If it makes you fe
el any better, it will be my turn for the interrogation in New York.” She stopped herself from reaching out a hand to cup his cheek.
“You have an American passport,” he pointed out.
“I do, but Matty doesn’t. Not yet.”
Richard lifted his son from her arms, placing him on the handle of the trolley he was pushing. “What’s on his birth certificate?” His voice was light, but she could sense the tension behind his question.
“Just my name.” She had registered him at the Consulate in France.
“We’ll need to change that, too.” Richard frowned, looking down at Matty. “He needs to have my name there. I’ll speak to my lawyers.”
Hanna glanced up, taking in the concern on his face. This was clearly important to him. “Of course. We’ll need to sort out some sort of visa for him if we’re going to stay in New York.”
“Lisa’s already on to it. Everything should be ready for Thursday.”
Richard set up Matty’s buggy, and Hanna lifted him in gently, pulling the straps across him, tickling his legs enough to make him giggle. She hadn’t asked Richard where they were staying, or how they were getting there, but she was suddenly desperate to know.
This was London. It was her city, her playground. She was delighted to be home, if only for a few days.
“Where are we staying?” She maneuvered Matty’s buggy across the polished tile floor. Richard matched her pace, pushing the luggage trolley. It was piled high with suitcases full of clothes and toys and the usual baby paraphernalia.
“I’ve booked us a suite at the Dorchester,” Richard said. “There are two bedrooms. I’ve asked for a cot to be put in your room.”
Hanna smiled. She didn’t like the thought of their son in his own room in a strange place. It was much better to have him with her. “Thank you for arranging it.”
He stared for a moment, allowing a grin to pull at his lips. Her heart stopped beating for a moment.
“I should thank you. You’re the one uprooting everything and moving thousands of miles.”
“It’s the right thing to do.” Hanna said simply. Richard reached out and squeezed her hand, where it gripped the handle of the buggy. Her breath hitched at the unexpected gesture.
“Thank you, anyway,” he whispered. She lifted her hand and squeezed back.
They were nearly at the end of the walkway when Richard’s face dropped, his mouth falling open. He stopped walking, glancing at Hanna with concern, and she felt her heart start to race.
Something was wrong.
“I asked them not to do this.” He held her hand tightly, as if he was afraid she’d run. “I’m sorry, Hanna, I promise I’ll be with you.”
She followed his line of sight. Standing at the edge of the crowd, staring at the two of them with open mouths, were Steven and Claire. Neither looked particularly happy—or pleased to see them—but she noticed with relief their expressions softened as soon as they saw Matty. He was wriggling in his buggy, singing to himself.
All hopes of avoiding confrontation seemed futile. She allowed Richard to pull them both toward his parents, his grip on her hand never wavering. She inhaled deeply, trying to keep her breaths steady, rearranging her expression to try and hide her fear.
“Richard!” Claire ran across the last few feet, flinging her arms around him. Hanna watched as he hugged her back, before turning to Steven and shaking his hand. They all leaned down to talk to Matty.
Matty’s face crumpled, and his mouth opened to emit a loud wail. Claire and Steven jumped at the sound, stepping backwards to give him some space. Richard could feel Hanna tensed beside him, and when he looked at her face, he saw concern and agitation etched across it. He knew her well enough to understand that she wanted to comfort her son, but was afraid to upset his parents by pushing through and lifting Matty out of his pram. He squeezed her hand and leaned down, unstrapping the buckles across his son’s waist and lifting him out, murmuring comforting words as he cradled his head.