Max had always been handsome. But in the three years since she’d seen him, he’d grown even more attractive, although there was a deep groove between his brows that she didn’t remember seeing when they were together.
‘Seriously. She was probably just being friendly.’
‘Seriously, huh? I don’t know. Maybe we should make a little bet on it.’
‘I don’t bet on things like that.’ The furrow above his nose deepened. ‘Not any more.’
He didn’t bet on what? Relationships? Because of her?
That wasn’t what she wanted for Max. His childhood had been rough as it was, devoid of affection...love. He deserved to be happy, and she wanted that for him. Even now.
‘We never really talked about it. What happened all those years ago.’ Suddenly she wished she’d chosen a place a little less loud as she fingered the plastic placemat in front of her.
‘I seem to remember a lot of talking. Most of it angry.’
Yes, there had been the arguments. Especially at the end, when he’d found her journal, the smoking gun that she was still hoping against hope that she would become pregnant.
Even before that, though, Max had become someone she didn’t recognise. Impatient. Short. And somehow sad. That was the worst of all the emotions she’d seen in him. She’d tried so hard to have a child, thinking it would make everything better between them. That it would bind Max to her in a physical way—give him a sense of roots. Instead, it had only made things worse. The pregnancy attempts had ended up becoming a vicious cycle of failure and then increased desperation. Instead of binding them together, her attempts had torn them apart.
The waitress came and set their drinks in front of them. ‘Are you ready to order?’ Her voice wasn’t nearly as friendly this time.
‘Fish and chips for me and a glass of water, please.’ Annabelle was craving good, old-fashioned fare.
‘I’ll have the same. And a dark ale to go with it, please.’
Annabelle didn’t remember Max being a big drinker. Not that two drinks constituted an alcoholic. He just seemed...harder, somehow. Less approachable. Like his parents?
Once the waitress was gone, Annabelle picked up her wine, sipping with care.
Max, however, lifted his own glass and took a deep drink. ‘I haven’t had one of these in a long time. This place was a good choice.’
‘Ella and I like to come here every once in a while. It’s out of the way and loud enough that you don’t have to think.’
He seemed to digest that for a moment. ‘Not as loud as some of the places I’ve been.’
Interesting.
‘Where have you been? If you don’t mind my asking.’ She didn’t feel like talking about the arguments or failures of the past.
‘I don’t. I joined up with Doctors Without Borders. In between contracts in England, I’ve gone wherever they’ve needed me. Kenya, a time or two, but mostly the Sudan. I spent the last six months there.’
Annabelle listened, fascinated, as he shared what he’d done in the years since he’d left their flat. Some of the stories were horrifying. ‘Isn’t it hard to see that?’
‘Yes.’
‘And yet you keep going back. After this contract is up and Sienna is back from maternity leave, will you return there?’
The waitress arrived with their food and drinks, quickly asking if they needed anything else.
‘I think we’re good, thank you.’
When they were alone again, he drank the last of his whisky. ‘I don’t know what I’m going to do once this contract is up. I’ve been thinking about settling someplace on a more permanent basis.’
From what he’d told her, he’d hopped from city to city, country to country as the whim took him.
She was on her first bite of fish when he asked, ‘How long have you lived in Cheltenham?’
It took her a second to chew and swallow. ‘A year. I went to live with my mum for a while after...well, after you left.’
‘Suzanne told me you didn’t stay in the flat for long.’
Annabelle had missed their cleaning lady. ‘Did you think I would?’
‘I didn’t really know what you would do. I went back after my first trip, almost a year later, and you were gone.’
‘I just couldn’t...stay.’
‘Neither could I.’ He paused. ‘Even if you hadn’t asked me to go, I would have. Things were never going to change.’
This was the most she’d ever been able to drag out of him. And she wasn’t even having to drag. Back then they would fight, and then Max would clam up for days on end, his tight jaw attesting to the fact that he was holding his emotions at bay with difficulty.
He’d once told her that his parents had been the same way with him—their anger had translated into silence. He’d struggled with breaking those old patterns their entire marriage. But in the last six months of it, those habits had come back with a vengeance. If she’d tried to probe or make things right between them—with the offer of physical intimacy—he’d always seemed to have some meeting or suddenly had a shift at the hospital. She’d finally got the message: he didn’t want to be with her, except when absolutely necessary for the in-vitro procedures. And then, after her last miscarriage, he was done trying for a baby.
Actually, Max had been done. Full stop. He’d left their relationship long before he’d actually walked out of the door.
She took another sip of her water to moisten her mouth as she got ready to tackle the most difficult subject of all.
‘You haven’t signed the papers.’
There was a pause.
‘No. I’ve been overseas on and off.’ He shrugged. ‘After a while, I forgot about them.’
That stung, but she tried not to let it. ‘Doesn’t it make going out on dates awkward?’
‘I’ve been busy. No time—or inclination—to jump back into those waters.’
His answer made Annabelle cringe. ‘I’m sorry if I’m the reason for that.’
‘I just haven’t seen many happy marriages.’
‘My parents are happy.’
He smiled at that. ‘They are the exception to the rule. How are they?’
‘They’re fine. So are my sisters. Jessica had another boy while you were gone—his name is Nate.’ She didn’t want to delve into the fact that her parents’ and siblings’ relationships had all seemed to work out just swimmingly. Except for hers.
