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  She pulls her feet up onto the chair and wraps her arms around herself, her face pressed into her knees. She shudders and cries, quietly at first, then louder. I don’t have anything left to give. She’s taken everything out of me. I quietly shuffle across the floor of the room until reaching the sofa in the little bit of chillout space I have up here. I wait for her to finish and she eventually does.

  “He was called Markos,” she says, lifting her face up but looking at the wall. She looks a mess now, just how I feel. “He worked for my dad. He was my boyfriend from seventeen until twenty-four. My dad told me not to go out with him. He forbade me, but I did it anyway. I left home, moved in with Marko and my life was an utter, utter disaster. I felt like the only thing that might make things better was a child. I’ve wanted a baby since before I even started having periods. I watched other families… their lives so full. And it was just me. Nobody else. My dad was always working. He’d come home in his hard hat, sleep in the bloody thing and fucking get up and leave the house still wearing it! I had a nanny and that was it. I hated school. I was picked on for having a Polish name and looking different. I was picked on for being fucking pretty. So when me and Marko didn’t manage to conceive naturally, I went to the doctor and told them about my weird periods and they did tests and I was diagnosed. And I’d just believed my whole life that these excessively bad periods were normal. Hadn’t I? Because I never had any woman in my life telling me any different.

  “And the tests they did when I was younger… to make sure I wasn’t like my mother, that I wasn’t going to die like her… I thought I was past stuff like that. I thought that was all over, and then these tests… a young woman, unable to conceive. And the more I wanted a baby, the more my body started to fight me. And Marko had money. He paid for me to be seen by private doctors. He provided the sperm and asked no questions and when the second round failed, he got bored of me. He found someone new. I had a nervous breakdown. Two, in fact. One after the other. So, I went home, back to Daddy. Back to the guy with the money but nothing else for his lost little girl. A young woman, hardly any qualifications… I was a mess. And that’s when I started night school… got a bit of self-respect back… then got a job working for a media company, worked my way up in management, took a bit of a leaf out of my father’s book and became a workaholic. Until you. Until you, Adam. The first man I think I’ve ever loved and the first man who looked at me like I wasn’t some kind of trophy or a stupid airhead to be palmed off with trinkets or cheques. No. And you want to know why I lied? Because I was scared. I was petrified,” she cries, “I was so, so scared you’d be the same. Like Marko. Not because there’s anything wrong with you, but because there’s a lot wrong with me. Because inside, I’m anguished beyond anything you can possibly imagine. Because I can’t remember anything from the year after my mother died. I don’t remember a thing. I’ve blocked it out. Like I blocked out the months I was bedridden because of meningitis because my stupid father was dragging us here there and everywhere around the country, trying to find a place to put his foot on the first rung of the ladder… and all the while, he left me in my mother’s care and she was sick, really sick. And where does it end? Where does the sickness end, Adam? When do the tests end and the feeling, deep in my gut, of dread, terror, so thick, sometimes I can’t eat for days thinking about tests and more needles and more people asking these questions and treating me like her, like there’s some kind of deformity inside me because I’m hers. If it wasn’t endo, it’d be something else because that’s how it is for people like me. We’re experiments. We’re not a living, breathing thing with feelings and passions or desires for normal everyday life, no, we’re things to be tested and prodded and you have no idea how much this body has let me down and how much I want your baby. Because I do, I love you! I LOVE YOU!”

  I fly across the room, my heart breaking, catching her as she almost falls out of the chair and to the floor.

  “I forgive you, I forgive you. I just need to know you love me.”

  She pulls my face to hers and kisses me madly. “Don’t leave me, Adam. Just don’t leave me, please. I love you. Don’t leave me.”

  “I’m not going to leave you.”

  “I don’t want to live like this… I don’t want it to take hold of me. I don’t want it to be everything in my life… I didn’t want it to take you, too,” she wails, chattering and crying, hysterical as I hold her. “For a little while, I wanted to pretend I had a life without endo. Just a little while… just me and you. I just wanted it to be us… and then maybe, a miracle baby. And I can’t have a baby without you becoming a part of this. I can’t have a life free of this… ever.”

  She wails against me for a long time and I try to bring her into me, sheltering her with everything I have. She gradually cries it all out and then rests her cheek softly against my shoulder, her arms wrapped around my one arm.

  “If you can’t carry a baby, we have to decide what might happen next.”

  “I have to carry a baby,” she asserts, her voice ragged.

  I touch her cheek and kiss her mouth. “You’re enough for me, Susie. If we couldn’t have kids, you’d be enough for me. Haven’t the past two weeks been magical? I never realised I could be your support and comfort but it’s what I want more than anything. If it was just us, I’d be okay. I’d love you just as much. And maybe if you can’t carry our baby, we can find someone who can… or we could adopt. We could get a kid from somewhere and give it so much love.”

  “But I’ve wanted this for so long,” she moans, tears dripping from her eyes.

  “I’ve never wanted anything,” I tell her softly, “I’ve never gone looking for anything in life beyond my own capabilities and the latest gaming craze. I’ve only ever needed my simple pleasures. And that’s because I was lucky. Because I was loved growing up. I’m an only child, too and I never wanted for anything. We didn’t have money but we had each other. I had my friends and an amazing mum and dad. If my mum turned around to me tomorrow and said I was adopted, I don’t think I would care. It wouldn’t matter. How people treat each other matters so much more than blood and you don’t have to carry this alone anymore. You can leave the past behind and start all over again, just as you did before. You’re strong, Susie. But sometimes the strongest thing you can do is admit you need help and admit your limitations. I’m not about to leave you. I’m not that other guy. I’m your husband. I promised to stay with you always and I will. I’m not letting go.”

  Her face crumples and she throws her arms around me.

  “Adam,” she sighs, “Adam. Adam. I don’t deserve you.”

  “But you have me anyway.”

  Chapter Six

  Much later, we’re curled up in bed together, cuddling. Autumn is starting to visit these shores and the trees are blowing outside, the fires will soon be lit and Susie will be always sleeping in pyjamas because she feels the cold. I had better make the most of these remaining nights where she’s in little more than a bit of lace or satin.

  I’m listening to the rustling outside while she’s lying on her back, half on top of me, my chest against her back. My arms are wrapped loosely around her, her hands are stroking up and down my forearms, her touch relaxing me. Her hair is in a long braid and this is because she’s due at the hairdressers soon to get it straightened. She hates her natural waves even though I adore them, so much. Everything that I love about her she tries to hide, including her wavy hair, her fragility, her heart… her soul. Somehow, I always see past her silly tricks and see her. I don’t know how.

  I remember when I first started working at Bloom’s, the media company where I met Susan. It was my first proper job out of university. I’d done all kinds of crappy jobs since graduating with a degree in media and marketing – and this was the first thing that even resembled doing something related to my degree.

  Among the friendship group I’ve had for almost two decades now, I’m the one everyone always thought was a safe bet to stick around. I didn�
��t seem to have any ambition to ever leave Leeds. I’ve only ever had simple needs and demands. I’m the guy, you know, that guy who’s calm, quiet, that alright guy people get on well with and never imagine they may one day have beef with. I’m the safe guy. The one you can tell your secrets to and I won’t judge… and I won’t go telling everybody else your business, like Paul or Tom would, or Chloe or Marie. I wasn’t the drunk guy (Paul) or the weird guy (Theo) or the mysterious guy (Tom) or the sleazy guy (he’s long gone). I was always the sexless guy. The steady guy. The safe guy. That’s me.

  And then as I got established in my new job, skipping to work every day like I’d won the lottery just because I had an alright job, I went to my first big departmental meeting one day and some of the senior managers were present.

  Her eyes locked with mine across the room and something shook to life inside of me, some animal part of me… something base took hold. She spoke to the room with confidence and was dressed so elegantly. She seemed exotic and rare. I thought she reminded me of one of my fantasies from the games I played… a pocket-sized Lara Croft with more lifelike breasts but killer legs that could probably crack nuts. And her face. She was the most beautiful girl I had ever seen and it was like a shot to the heart. It was love at first sight. Everything changed. I wasn’t Safe Adam anymore. I was Desperate Adam.

  I was going to email Susan and ask if she wanted to get a drink sometime, but I agonised over it for ages and ages, writing and then deleting emails. I even tried to catch her at the coffee machine but people would always get to her first, needing her approval or advice. She was a presence everywhere I looked, but I couldn’t find a way into her circle. I was the new boy with a lot to learn and she was the one dealing with budgets and shareholders and clients, day in, day out. I was intimidated and terrified. And hard. All of the time. It was a terrible and beautiful time of my life.

  Then, the adventure of my life began. Not in the way other love stories do. It wasn’t romantic at all.

  We were at a charity ball in the summer, just a few months after I started working for Bloom’s. I’d passed my probation period with flying colours, was promoted to Senior Writer and even found myself being groomed for an editorial position. That’s how fast it works once you’ve proven yourself and have your feet under the table somewhere.

  It was a charity ball, out in the country. Bloom’s always sent a few of their employees to attend, I don’t know, maybe to increase their community presence or something. The ball was to raise money for the city’s children’s hospital and low and behold, I was seated next to Susan at our table for ten.

  “How’s it going, then?” she asked, and I tried not to pee my pants.

  The object of my very dirty, very sordid desires was speaking – and I realised I had to talk back.

  “It’s going well.” I smiled politely and turned slightly to look at her, resplendent in a navy ballgown with ruffles at one side that split to show off her long legs in all their glory.

  “I keep hearing good things,” she said, leaning in so she didn’t have to shout above the music and general chatter going on around us. “It seems like you’re really settling in.”

  “It’s okay,” I admitted, “but I have plans.”

  Shit, I didn’t know why I said that, but for some reason she smiled.

  “Plans? Sounds ominous.”

  I chuckled and turned towards her, glad I wore a suit and not jeans and a t-shirt because that’s how I rolled back then. It was Lily who I was telling about the ball one night in the Dog and Duck pub and she said to me, “What are you wearing then?” If she hadn’t forced me to visit Slaters for something smart, Susan probably wouldn’t have given me a second glance that night. I hadn’t been making much effort in the workplace but nobody cares when you’re a general dogsbody. A smart shirt everyday with no tie and the best black jeans you own seems to be general office attire for the modern man.

  “I’m planning to go freelance one day, I just need the experience.”

  She cocked her head and regarded me with the biggest, most searching pair of brown eyes. “Ooh, a rogue. You don’t look very roguish. Those baby blues and that ruffled hair…”

  Something about the way she was looking at me triggered a feeling inside… heat… but more than that. It was passion. I was besotted already, but this was… this was obsession I was feeling. Every movement of her hands, her mouth, her eyes… and her fucking hair. I was wanking off to thoughts of her hair nightly and my mother had started to threaten me with homelessness if I didn’t stop filling the waste basket with tissues without emptying it myself.

  “What about the way I look?” I decided to play up to her, see if this was what she wanted.

  “You’ve got that look,” she said, and took her wineglass, peering at me over the top of it as she drank.

  “What look?” I asked.

  “Like you’re a good boy,” she whispered. “A very good boy. A nice mummy and daddy probably. A bunch of close-knit friends. And a regular little habit of some sort. I don’t know… weed?”

  I chuckled almost as naturally as she was seducing me. “Gaming. I’m addicted actually. Sometimes I disappear for entire weekends.”

  She nodded swiftly. “Ah, see? A regular good boy, keeping himself to himself. And yet, he wants to go rogue. Work for himself, no less. He wants to be independent. Why? I wonder. Why? Isn’t company worker good enough for you?”

  I leaned in towards her and smelt her perfume. It was unlike anything I’d ever smelt before. It wasn’t Chanel or Dior or any of those scents you can usually pick up because they all have the same basic ingredients. This was exotic… like she’d sprayed herself with the literal incarnation of desire… something fresh and clean but with accents of the East. It was glamorous and unusual and her. It was definitely her scent. She was staring at me, waiting for me to speak.

  “I’m a blogger and want more time for that,” I explained, “but also there’s more money in freelance and I enjoy travel. If you work for yourself, you can do that whenever you want. All my friends have travelled but I’ve yet to. I don’t want to live my life envious of other people. I want to take life by the balls.”

  I thought I sounded passionate, ambitious, and just arrogant enough to keep her attention. I could have been honest and told her I wanted to work for myself because basically, yeah, it is less hours for more money and more time to blog about gaming and my other interests like film, books and the latest gadgets. It was hard to get that off the ground because I was still paying off some small loans I racked up at uni from gaming too much and working very little. At that moment in time, I was walking to and from work every day, two miles there and back, because I couldn’t even afford the bus – another reason to rake back some extra cash.

  She seemed suitably impressed anyway and the chit-chat got underway. She told me she’d no plans to leave Bloom’s, that it suited her, that she’d found a way to carve out her own niche.

  She told me all the good friends she had in the world worked for Bloom’s or had worked for them and had moved on but still kept in touch. She didn’t tell me much else about her life and I didn’t think to ask – I was enamoured with whatever she deigned to tell me, no matter how big or small the information she was willing to divulge.

  After the meal and all the free wine was depleted, everyone moved onto the dancefloor including myself and Susan. We were all drunk and dancing in little groups, not a care in the world. I was living the dream, I thought. I had this job and now this beautiful woman chatting to me and keeping me company. I felt like she was purposely giving me her time and ignoring most other people who wanted to talk to her.

  She pulled me in at one point and said, “Shall we get a drink? It’s getting a bit freaky on here. Bill from accounts is doing the worm.”

  I turned around and caught Bill doing just that. We walked away laughing and headed for the bar. We were waiting to be served but there was nobody around. It was late and I noticed all the glasses stacked u
p.

  “Oh, I think they’ve shut up,” I yelled over the music.

  “Yeah. Do you wanna try the hotel’s other bars?”

  “Yeah, okay then.”

  I was going with the flow, because the flow was giving me her company.

  We found another bar and ordered a bourbon each. It was a bit of a stretch but I paid the bill even though bourbon was something I hadn’t ever drunk in my life, or if I had it was at the end of long, long nights at Chloe’s when she’d raid her mum’s cabinet for anything we could suck dry.

  “To life,” Susan said, and we downed them in one.

  The alcohol singed the back of my throat but she took it in her stride. This slender, elegant lady drank bourbon. She was something else, I knew it right then.

  “Are you staying the night?” she asked nonchalant, chin resting on her hand as we sat at the bar.

  “Ah, no. I’m getting back in a taxi with Mary and Bill and that other guy.”

  I didn’t tell her it was too steep for me to pay for a room for the night.

  “I’m staying,” she said, so confident, so at ease. “Do you want to get a drink upstairs? It can’t be any more expensive from the minibar, surely?”

  I gulped, wondered if she was serious, then looked down to where the split in her skirt had parted even further, her long brown leg almost touching mine, the definition in her calves and thighs making me drool.

  “Let’s go,” I said.