Page 151 of Every Silent Lie

Ron nods my way as Lynette steps out into the cold and closes the door behind them, leaving me alone in the hallway. I lower my bag and hang my coat on the stand, going to the playroom door and pushing it open. Hovering on the threshold, I take in the colourful space. It’s a mess, toys strewn all over the floor, colouring pens scattered across the tiny wooden table in the corner, books stacked chaotically on the mini bookcase under the window.

A perfect mess.

I back out and wander down the hallway, poking my head around the other doors before the kitchen. The study opposite the playroom. The downstairs loo.

A set of closed double doors lure me there, and I push them open to reveal a beautiful formal lounge . . . and a Christmas tree to rival Rockefeller Center. I inhale my surprise, blindly kicking my trainers off before I tread on the lush cream carpet, dazzled by the tree that’s drenched in gold glass baubles, satin bows, and thousands of warm twinkling fairy lights. Piles of gifts surround the base, a huge gold-encrusted star perched atop. I wander over and the closer I get, I see there’s pictures in the baubles. All of Dec and Albi, ranging from when he was a baby, to now. My heart can’t take it, and I press my palm into my chest, looking closely at each and every one of them. All gorgeous. Father and son.

Each other’s worlds.

I feel my eyes welling for an entirely different reason. Not for what I’ve lost . . . but for what Dec has. I roughly wipe my face, turning, coming face to face with a large piece of art over the fireplace, a collage of pictures all in black and white. All smiles. All laughter. All them.

Two velvet stockings hang from the oak hearth with their names stitched into the white fluffy edging.

Albi.

Daddy.

Will I fit here? They’re so complete. Whole.

Feeling a little overwhelmed, I move to one of the giant cream suede couches that frame the fireplace and lower, staring up at the pictures. I had something similar, all pictures of Noah. It’s still wrapped up in paper, still hidden away in a cupboard. And the stockings, we did that. Had our names embroidered into our own. Two smaller stockings for Mummy and Daddy flanking Noah’s larger one.

My chest constricts, and I stand, leaving the room in a rush and closing the doors behind me. Dec’s coming down the stairs, and he stops halfway when he sees me. Or more registers my blotchy face. He sighs and treads down the remaining stairs, pulling me in for a hug.

I never knew how soothing a simple hug could be. “It’s a beautiful room,” I say into his shoulder.

“It’s our favourite.” Pulling out, he checks my eyes for tears, running the pad of his thumb beneath each. “Come” He clasps my hand and leads me up the stairs.

The bedroom is basked in a faint apricot glow from the bedside lamps, the curtains drawn. Dec walks us through to his bathroom, turns the shower on, and strips me down, then himself, leaving our clothes in a mixed pile on the floor.

Hot water hits my skin when he walks me in, but it doesn’t warm me like Dec can. Taking a sponge, he soaks it under the spray and turns me away from him, dragging it across my back. There’s not one inch of my body he doesn’t clean. Not one hair on my head he doesn’t comb his fingers through, shampooing, rinsing, and brushing conditioner through the lengths. When he’s on his knees before me, I look down at him washing my thighs, his concentration intense, his well-honed body glistening under the drops of water coating him, his hair saturated. I know he won’t escalate this. Whether he thinks it’s inappropriate to or not, I don’t know. I sense he just wants to take care of me. I hate that I feel like I need taking care of. I hate that I’m fragile, because I don’t want to be a burden. Dec doesn’t need someone else to look after.

I drop to my knees to join him, and he lifts his gaze to mine. I hate the sadness I see in his usually glittery eyes. Eyes that are now dull. “Today was the best day and worst all rolled into one,” I admit quietly, my voice not broken but definitely cracking. Two emotions—happiness and sadness—swaying like a pendulum. Both catching me off guard when one would creep up and dilute the other. “I think you’re brilliant.” I cup his face with both hands, holding it firmly, making him see. “I think Albi’s brilliant.”

“I feel like there’s a but coming, and I really don’t want to hear it.”

“But I’m even more scared now because I’ve fallen in love with him even faster than I fell in love with you.”

His lips part, his eyes darting across my face. “You’re not replacing Noah,” he whispers. “To love another child would never mean that.”

“I know. But it doesn’t stop the guilt. Or the reminders. Or the heartache.”

“I need you, Camryn. Not for Albi. I need you for me. You’ve filled a part of me I didn’t know was empty. I went to the bar that night to kill time. April took Albi to the pantomime, and I didn’t know what to do with myself. I’m irrevocably his, but I don’t want to hold him back. I don’t want him to be scared to leave me. I want him to experience life. Travel. Explore the world, become utter greatness. Be successful, fulfilled, a good father. By being what my father isn’t, I could hold him back, and I don’t want that. But most of all, I don’t want him to be afraid of falling in love. I want him to look at me when he's older and know I’m okay. Not lonely. I was so fucking lonely, Camryn. I know it’s terrifying, but I want you to stay. I need you to stay. Please stay. For me.”

I take his face in my hands, overwhelmed by the amazing man before me.

“You’ll never lose me, I promise you,” he whispers.

My lip quivers. “I love you both.”

His smile is small but fucking huge, and he stands us up, flipping the shower off before pulling a white towel off the heated rail and drying us. He leads me to the bed and gets us beneath the duvet, pulling me onto his chest, holding me there.

“I love you both too,” he whispers.

I fall asleep in his arms, his heart beating strongly under my ear.

And I feel mine pounding in reply.

Life.