Page 162 of The Honeymoon Affair

‘But we were in love even when we came back.’

‘Dublin in the snow,’ I say. ‘Your fabulous party. Fireworks at midnight. Your amazing proposal. How could I say no?’

‘Did you want to say no?’ he asks.

‘Not then,’ I admit.

‘So if all the things that went wrong are fixed, with Ariel in the States and our divorce finalised, would you reconsider?’

‘It wasn’t only Ariel,’ I say as we reach the end of Grafton Street. ‘She was a great excuse, but it was about me too. What I wanted and what you couldn’t give me.’

‘What couldn’t I give you?’

‘The confidence to be myself,’ I say. ‘I was always the less experienced, less sophisticated person in the relationship. An appendage to your more glittering life.’

‘You were my beta reader, not an appendage.’

‘Charles! That’s exactly what I’m saying. I was supposed to be the woman you loved, not your beta reader. I was always involved in your stuff. Trekking down to Waterford to support your reading even though I had to change a shift to do it. Going to book launches for people I’d never heard of. Tiptoeing around the house so as not to disturb you when you thought it perfectly fine to wake me up if I was sleeping after a late shift . . . If that’s not being an appendage, I don’t know what is.’

‘I never thought of it like that.’ He looks genuinely contrite. ‘I thought you coming to things was fun for both of us. And it’s not like you didn’t have the confidence to tell me my book was terrible, by the way. Though I’m glad you did.’

‘I never said it was terrible.’

‘You didn’t pander to me, though,’ he says. ‘You told me I should be more like Janice Jermyn, an author I used to sneer at. Much to my shame. I’ve read all her books now, and they’re great.’

‘I’m so glad I introduced you to her.’ I give him a half-smile. ‘Charles, I’m not blaming you for how things turned out. It’s as much on me. I wanted to think the age gap didn’t matter, but you are a different generation. You have another perspective on life. You’re already hugely successful in what you do. I’m building my career. You like fine dining and your expensive wines. I’m still a Nando’s girl at heart.’

‘You’ve been promoted at work. You’re way more successful than I was at twenty-nine.’

‘I’m thirty now,’ I remind him. Not that I needed to. He sent me flowers for my birthday. Another massive bouquet that took over the house. Even Mum asked me then if I was really sure I didn’t love him any more.

‘More successful than I was at thirty,’ he amends. ‘Yes, there are differences between us. But there are also things we both want.’

‘Such as?’

‘A loving relationship. Someone who understands us. Someone to share our lives with. Someone to laugh with. We had some good laughs, Izzy.’

‘I’m sure I’ll find all that in the future. I’m sure you will too. Right now, with two failed engagements on my CV, I need time to be me.’

We walk up Dawson Street in silence and are almost back at the pub when he stops at Duke Lane, where Warren’s have their store. I recall the day he brought me there, the excitement of trying on the Ice Cube diamond ring and the fun of celebrating with champagne afterwards. I remember, too, that Steve had called me. I never told Charles that.

‘I still love you as much as I did then,’ he says as we look towards the shop. ‘After everything you’ve said, I don’t expect you to wear this, but I do want you to have it.’

He reaches into the pocket of his jacket and takes out a box. It’s the box that Warren’s gave us for my ring. He opens it, and there’s the Ice Cube, glinting in the evening light.

‘Why have you got that with you?’ I ask. ‘You weren’t expecting to meet me today.’

‘I expect to meet you every day,’ he says. ‘I have it with me all the time. Just in case.’

I stare at him.

‘It may have gone wrong for us,’ he says. ‘I didn’t change for you and I wanted you to change for me. Maybe that’s because I am an old fart. But I’m willing to work at change, because I’ve never stopped loving you. Also . . .’ he takes a deep breath, ‘everything you’ve said is absolutely right. It was only after you’d gone that I realised how difficult it had been for you. And how difficult living in Riverside Lodge would have been for you too. Difficult for getting to work and your family – yet you were prepared to do it for me. I should’ve told you I’d move on day one.’

‘It wasn’t all about the house, Charles. Though,’ I add, ‘not having Ariel in the back garden would have helped.’

‘Would you have felt differently if I’d offered to move closer to the airport as soon as you were promoted? Because it wouldn’t matter where we lived. It really wouldn’t.’

‘Don’t be an idiot.’