Fix You

“I’m leaving next week.” The agony of being unable to touch him was pulling at her soul. “But I don’t want to go.”

He was agitated, and she could see his eyes flash as he tried to calculate something in his mind. “Why don’t you get the hell over here?”

She was in his arms before he’d finished the sentence. It didn’t seem enough to just hold him tight, she wanted to climb inside him until they were one person.

“This is all so fucked up.” She looked up at him. His eyes were glistening, too.

“I have to help Meredith get back on her feet. She can’t live alone yet, she needs constant supervision.” He twisted his fingers in Hanna’s hair. “But once she’s up and healed, I’m going to tell her everything. Then I’ll be on the next flight to London.”

She dipped her head and nuzzled into his chest. His coat was slightly damp from the snow, and she could see the little beads of moisture clinging to the wool fibers. Those words were more than she had hoped for; it was almost a promise for a future that could be theirs. But the thought of enduring months of pain, of wondering, was too much to bear.

“I love you.” She ran her fingertips along the cold skin of his cheek. She paused for a moment, trying to think of the right words. “But we can’t carry on an emotional affair while you’re engaged to somebody else. I’ve been on the other side of that and it would kill me to hurt somebody else in the same way.”

His hold on her loosened. “I know. I’m such a shit.”

She tried to smile. “You aren’t. Circumstances could be better. At least we won’t be tempted to see each other.”

“They invented these little things called airplanes—”

“You know what I mean. While you’re still with Meredith we need to stop this thing. Come find me when things are better for you. I’ll still have the same address, and I know you have my cell number.”

“It could be months.”

“I’ll be there.”

He stood right in front of her, tipping her chin with his finger, lowering his own until his forehead was touching hers.

“You promise?” He was so close. She was losing herself in the green of his eyes. It took every ounce of willpower she had not to kiss him.

“I promise.”

Twenty

June 15th 2010

It was embarrassing, and more than a little worrisome, that Hanna hadn’t even realized anything was wrong until two days ago. She’d been sitting in Tom’s garden, watching him lose his wrestling match with his shiny gas barbecue, and trying not to giggle, when she first noticed the tiny kick. It felt a little like indigestion, though she hadn’t eaten anything, despite her overwhelming hunger. Her friend Natalie had taken one look at the way Hanna clasped her stomach with over protective hands, before pronouncing, “You’re pregnant.”

A long discussion about the ability to have periods whilst being pregnant ensued, followed by a mad dash to find a pharmacy that was open on a Sunday. Natalie had eventually returned with three tests—all different brands, a bag loaded with prenatal vitamins, and a bumper box of tissues for the tears she knew would ensure.

Now they were in Tom’s car, heading for the prestigious Portland Hospital, where he’d arranged for an ultrasound. Despite Hanna’s protests, he’d argued she deserved the best care, and he’d pay for the initial consultation.

“Have you told him yet?” Tom asked, as the car swept past Regent’s Park. The grass was littered with half-clothed bodies, desperate to take advantage of the mini heat wave in London. Hanna wondered idly if the weather in New York was as warm.

“I’ve been putting it off,” she admitted, fanning her face with her hand. Despite the noisy whir of the air-conditioning, the interior was stifling, and she couldn’t seem to cool down at all. “I want to see the evidence for myself before I call him.”

She was dreading it. Hanna had a vision of Richard jumping on the first plane out, and sweeping her off her feet in a protestation of love. What if that didn’t happen? It was four months since she’d seen him last, and made him promise not to contact her until he was ready. She felt like she was cheating, forcing things.

She hadn’t heard anything from him—not a word—and she’d been avoiding the Larsens for fear he was staying with Meredith for good. Waiting was hard enough; rejection would be a hundred times more painful.

“Were three pregnancy tests not enough proof?” Tom asked. Hanna watched his dimple twitch above the curve of his jaw. “You should have told him already.”

“What if he doesn’t want it?” She voiced her worst fear. It didn’t make her feel any better.

“It’s not his choice to make,” he replied. Taking her hand, he rubbed his thumb across her palm. “Even if he doesn’t want it, you know I’ll always be here for you.”

Her heart clenched. Tom was too good to her sometimes—this was definitely one of those occasions.

The car turned into the hospital’s private parking lot. Outside the front entrance, a few photographers leaned on the walls, waiting for the next big celebrity to emerge.