Page 49 of How We Loved

I hauled in a painful breath.

“Is this the phone call you took before we left on tour?”

“Maybe.”

“And you’ve waited this long to bring it up.”

I peeked a glance up at his expression, trying to read it. Failing, as usual. “I wanted you to have your moment, and this is probably a little bit crazy. Okay, I know it’s really crazy, there isn’t even a little bit...”

“Lilah. Stop.” His shoulders dropped slightly, and he met my gaze with a burning intensity. “How many moments do you think I’ve lived since we’ve met? You’ve created them all? I just reminded you a few minutes ago, I’d all but given up on my music career before I met you. The fact that we are standing here in this flat, that I’m on tour, any of it, it’s all because of you. You’re the instigator in all our good.”

My mouth dried. “That’s not true.”

“It is.” Laughing, he pulled me in, so tight he almost crushed the air out of me. “If someone is quoting my lyrics at you in baby group, it’s because you inspired those lyrics, if anyone deserves to have their story told and shared, it’s you.”

“But, you’re so famous. Everyone will know everything.”

“Lilah, they already do. It’s in every word I write, every note I play on my guitar. It’s all you.” He kissed me then, breath-stealingly deep. “And anyway, I mean, I guess the column is up for editing before publishing, and you’ll get final creative say.”

“See, I haven’t even thought of any of that. I know nothing about nothing.”

“You know about us.”

He pulled me in again, lips hungry. When he pulled away, the cornflower blues danced. “Didn’t you say once you wanted to write a book.”

My cheeks flushed. “About you.” I nodded, heart banging.

“Well, my love. Maybe this is the universe showing you a way to make that happen.”

“You think?”

“I do.”

“Hell, you should come and hang out with Lorraine at Song-Time; you’d get on with her earth mother, universe-loving ways.”

“Song-Time? I’m all over it.”

“They’ll be all over you,” I muttered but made a show of turning to stir the Bolognese. “You know. I’m not that hungry now.” I glanced up at him. His gaze burned directly at me, splintering me into sparks of fire.

“Me neither. Let’s go while she’s still asleep.”

Yeah right. No chance. We had not timed that well at all.

He’s asleep now, and I have Hope asleep on my chest while I sit and write. Am I really going to do this?

You know what. I think I am.

12th April

Things they don’t tell you about parenting:

1. You don’t get to shower alone.

2. You don’t get to go to the loo alone.

3. You will never ever have a hot cup of tea again.

I really think those things should be put in baby books—or maybe on the front of condom packets, like the warnings you get on cigarette packets. Cover up... Or this...