And then he falls back onto the beach. It’s like his body has no strength, and I clasp a hand to my mouth, drop to my knees with him.
I see in his eyes… anguish.
Accusation.
“Duncan,” I whisper, stroking his face. “How did you find me? What are you doing here?”
But he doesn’t reply. He looks at me, his eyes darting everywhere, as if checking to see that it is really me. He turns my head to the side, studies me.
“What are you doing?” I ask, but still he doesn’t reply.
His scent is strong, he’s obviously been running. His t-shirt clings to him. He’s lost a little weight; he’s not as muscular as he was.
No longer training.
He’s left it all behind!
“Is my father with you?” I ask. I hate to ask it, and I bunch my brow together as I do, but I need to know.
He shakes his head. Now in his blue eyes I see more than just accusation. I see the flickers of anger, and pain.
“You sure he didn’t follow you, Duncan?”
He folds his arms around his knees, ducks his head down for a moment. His chest swells as he draws in a huge breath, and then he lets it out slowly.
“I’m sure, Dee.”
His voice even seems different. Deeper. Meaner.
Without warning he gets to his feet, holds out a hand. I take it, let him pull me to my feet.
“We have a lot to talk about,” he says.
I nod, chew my lip. “We do. Do you want to clean up first?”
His tongue comes out, wets his lips. “No.”
“Okay,” I whisper. “My car’s parked just over there. We should probably talk somewhere private. You can come back to my place? It’s not far.”
We walk in silence, shoulders rubbing. His hands are buried in his pockets, and he just stares straight ahead, his brow a permanent crease.
We don’t talk the whole drive back… and that makes me nervous.
It’s not fear I feel. Duncan has never scared me a day in his life. He’s never tried to, and he’s never done it by accident.
But… but I feel trepidation.
It’s all still as much of a shock to me as it must be to him.
How am I going to explain myself?
“You got a nice place,” he says. “How can you afford this?”
I swallow. “The headmaster at the school I teach at… he owns some properties, he offered it to me for a good price.”
Duncan’s eyes stay fixed on mine. His voice is sticky… maybe a little afraid. “Are you and him…?”
“God, no,” I say, shaking my head quickly. “No. There’s nobody else.”
I glance around the apartment. It is nice, though small. More expensive than I could afford on my pay if it went at market-price, though.
“That was good of him.” The words leave Duncan’s mouth slowly, but they are sincere.
“He knew I was pregnant, knew I didn’t have anything to my name.”
Duncan nods. “And those dogs?”
“Just some strays I feed every day after work.”
There’s just a flash of warmth in his face. “You like cats.”
“Dogs are growing on me. Sit down,” I tell him, gesturing at the sofa. “Cup of coffee?”
“Water,” he says.
“That’s right,” I whisper. “No caffeine.”
I feel so awkward around him. This is not how I imagined our reunion – if we ever had one – would be like. We look at each other just a moment too long, and I feel my ears burning.
I didn’t anticipate this gap between us. It’s palpable, like I can feel and touch the space between us, holding us apart.
I suppose I only have myself to blame for that. I did run away with his baby.
But it was my baby, too!
I set down the glass of water on the coffee table, take a seat next to Duncan on the sofa. There’s a space between us on the sofa… that’s a first. Usually we’re always in physical contact when we sit together. Shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip, connected.
Usually… that’s the wrong word now.
“You go first,” I tell him gently. “How did you find me?”
He sips from the glass, sets it down, then squeezes his hands together. “Why didn’t you tell me, Dee?”
That’s him. Straight to the point.
I suck in air, don’t know what to say. I shake my head.
The look in his eyes haunts me. When he turns them on me, I break. It all bursts out of me, a crack in a dam finally caving.
“He was trying to take our baby!” I cry, slapping the armrest before folding my arms. I fight back the tears but now I just feel so guilty. Now I feel like the bad guy.
Why is he making me feel like the bad guy?
Still, his hard eyes are on me.