He straightens from giving someone a hug and his gaze scans the room. It falls on me, and he pauses for a second. I can hardly breathe, and my heart is banging against my ribs.
He gives a small smile. Then someone says something behind him, and he turns away to talk to them.
That’s it. That’s all I get. That’s all I’m worth. I’m not a wife, not a girlfriend. Just a girl he banged for a week while he was on holiday.
It’s unfair, and I know it, but my eyes fill with tears. And suddenly, I know I can’t stay.
As quietly and unobtrusively as I can, I pick up my purse and slip out of the open door.
I run down the path to the main car park. Nobody tries to stop me. It’s a beautiful spring afternoon, and the Pacific is a stunning blue, but I can’t see its beauty today. I get in my car, start it up, and leave the Ark behind me.
I drive through Paihia, the sea on my left, tears pouring down my face. I’ve been such a fool. I’ve lost everything. Marc, the relationship, and the dream of having a baby with him.
Why didn’t I tell him at the time that I loved him? That what I wanted deep down was to have a family with him? Why did I insist on staying aloof? It’s all my own fault, and that hurts more than Daniel’s cruelty ever did.
I reach my house without even remembering the drive there, park, and go inside. It’s cool and quiet, filled with sunshine. I stand in the middle of the room and let the tears pour down my face. Oh God, this was what I didn’t want. I didn’t want to fall in love because when it all goes wrong, it hurts so much. I told myself I wouldn’t let this happen! Why didn’t I follow my own instructions?
I manage to make it to the sofa, sink down, and curl up on my side. I keep thinking about that smile he gave me. Full of pity and regret. Just the memory makes me ache.
God, I’m such a fool.
*
There’s a knock at the door.
I unfurl and look at my phone. It’s only been twenty minutes. I know I must look a sight. I’ve been ugly crying, and my hands are streaked with black, so I know my makeup has run. I’m so stuffed up I can’t breathe. I don’t want to see anyone.
The knock is insistent, though, and then, to my surprise, I hear my father’s voice. “Poppy! I know you’re in there. Let me in, please, sweetheart.”
“Dad?” I get up, go over to the door, and open it.
“Wow,” he says, his eyebrows rising. “Mascara explosion.”
I burst into tears again. “Don’t make fun of me,” I sob.
“Aw, honey. This isn’t like you. Come here.” He walks into the house, closes the door behind him, and takes me in his arms.
He smells comforting and familiar, bringing back memories of sitting on his lap as a girl while we watched TV. “It’s all right,” he soothes, leading me over to the sofa. “Everything’s going to be all right.”
“It’s not.” We sit, and I cry into his shirt, conscious I’m covering it in black blotches and not caring.
“You’ve got to give him time.” He kisses the top of my head. “He’s just lost his mother. Guys take that hard sometimes.”
“It’s not that.” I try desperately to wipe my face and fail. He takes his silk pocket square out and hands it to me. I stare at it doubtfully, and he flaps it in the air, so I take it and blow my nose, then try to clear my tears. “I thought I was pregnant, and I’m not.” It’s no good—fresh tears appear as soon as I wipe the others away.
“Oh,” Dad says. “Right. So… you wanted to get pregnant?”
I nod miserably. “I asked Marc to be a sperm donor, and he said he’d only help me get pregnant if we did it the old-fashioned way.”
Dad gives a short laugh, then purses his lips as I look at him. “Sorry. But I have to admire his approach. That was pretty ballsy.”
“I wanted a baby,” I whisper, and give a little hiccup. “Someone of my own to love, who wouldn’t leave me.”
Dad sighs and leans back, taking me with him. “Even children leave you eventually,” he advises. “They go out into the world and become amazing teachers, and break your heart.”