Nine Month Countdown

by Leah Ashton

As they talked about favourite meals Ivy still wasn’t quite right. She was fidgeting, for one thing.

  She’d put her hands on her lap to hide that familiar twisting and untangling of her fingers, but he knew she was doing it.

  Her attention was also erratic. She seemed reluctant to meet his gaze, her own flittering off in random directions.

  Yes. This was stupid.

  Had she even cared that he’d rushed off last night?

  Maybe she’d been relieved. They’d been spending so much time together.

  More time than he could remember spending with any other woman.

  That realisation made him a little uncomfortable, too.

  ‘I called Tom last night,’ he said, abruptly, keen to take his thoughts in a different direction.

  ‘Really?’ Ivy smiled. ‘That’s brilliant. Did you talk long?’

  ‘No,’ he said. Ivy’s face fell. Angus smiled. ‘But that’s normal. I don’t think I’ve ever had a long conversation on the phone with a mate. I rang him, I apologised for being a useless friend and asked if he’d like to catch up for a drink. He said yes.’

  ‘That’s good,’ Ivy said. ‘It was pretty obvious what happened yesterday. I’m glad you did something about it.’

  He wasn’t sure what would happen when he saw Tom, but at least he’d tried. If it was too little, too late, then he’d just have to deal with it.

  ‘I should’ve said something last night,’ he said. ‘Rather than rushing off.’

  Ivy nodded, but then stilled that subtle movement. ‘Why?’ she said. She wasn’t looking at him; instead she appeared to be studying the bubbling lasagne. ‘It wasn’t any of my business.’

  Angus walked to the fridge, grabbing the salad he’d made earlier.

  He walked over to the dining table, plonking the bowl down between his two neat place settings.

  He knew what Ivy was doing.

  Hadn’t he done this himself, many, many times?

  When physical intimacy had begun to merge into even a hint of more?

  It was just different with Ivy, of course.

  Her pregnancy had added a complexity, a depth to their relationship that wouldn’t have existed, otherwise.

  Wouldn’t it?

  No.

  ‘I told my sisters today that we weren’t really a couple,’ Ivy said, twisting on the stool to face him. ‘I’m not much good at subterfuge, I’ve decided.’ She paused. ‘And I hated lying to them. I spoke to my mum, too. She’s approved my six-month maternity leave.’

  ‘That’s good,’ he said.

  Their conversation was almost formal, now. It reminded Angus of that very first coffee, which Ivy had attempted to run like a business meeting.

  It remained that way when they took their seats at the table and as Angus served the lasagne; their knives and forks scraping noisily against their plates.

  Ivy discussed the obstetrician she’d selected, but didn’t invite him to her first appointment in a few weeks’ time. She’d keep him informed, of course.

  Of course.

  He was relieved. This thing had always had an end date.

  He’d known, hadn’t he, that tonight was a mistake? That he’d inadvertently set up a scene that could be misinterpreted? That Ivy might think meant more?

  So it was good that Ivy had come to her own conclusion. That together they could end this amicably.

  If part of him was disappointed, it was because he was still just as attracted to Ivy as he’d been when he’d seen her walk down that aisle in Bali. Even tonight, dressed in jeans, a T-shirt and an oversized cardigan, she was beautiful.

  Of course he’d regret that he wouldn’t get to touch her again. Kiss her again.

  He’d thought he’d have longer.

  But not too long. Too long would just confuse an already overcomplicated situation.

  ‘Angus?’

  He blinked. Clearly Ivy had been talking to him, but he had no idea what about.

  But he smiled, and she repeated her question, and their formal, just slightly uncomfortable conversation continued.

  At least the lasagne was delicious.

  * * *

  You love him.

  Her mother’s words still bounced about in her brain. It had been almost twelve hours since their meeting, and yet she still couldn’t shake her mother’s erroneous assumption.

  Telling her sisters had helped.

  It was good to lay it out so brutally: we met for the first time at April’s wedding. We had sex. Now we’re having a baby. The End.

  April had been her usual starry-eyed self: ‘Are you sure there’s not something between you both? You seemed so natural together. So right.’

  But Ivy had laughed, and made absolutely no mention of their...affair? Fling? Thing?

  It was irrelevant, anyway. Something short term based purely on physical attraction. No more substantial than what had happened on the beach in Nusa Dua.

  Except for what you’ve told him. What he’s shared with you.

  Mila had been pragmatic. ‘Maybe it’s good you’re not in a relationship. At least that way you don’t need to worry about what happens when you break up.’

  Ivy stared at her dinner.

  True to form, she’d made her way through a mammoth slice of lasagne. Remnants of white sauce and a lone champignon were all that remained on her plate.

  Conversation had spluttered out, although they’d both made a good go at it.

  But the atmosphere was just wrong. None of the ease and the fun of before.

  Which made sense, of course.

  When she’d walked into Angus’s kitchen and seen all the effort he’d put in—and then the abject horror on his face when he seemed to realise what all of that could imply...

  Well, it had made a decision she’d already made just that much easier.

  This had to end. But now it would end, tonight.

  She didn’t want this, this faux intimacy, this illusion of something more.

  Angus clearly didn’t.

  She offered to help him tidy up, but she knew he’d refuse. It was best she left as soon as possible.

  At the open door, Ivy’s hand stilled before pushing open the flyscreen.

  She turned to face Angus.

  He was close, very close. She needed to tilt her chin upwards to meet his gaze.

  His front room was dark, and the light that spilled from the kitchen threw Angus’s face into shadows.

  ‘It was fun while it lasted,’ Ivy said, then cringed. ‘Oh, God, that sounded lame.’

  Angus laughed, his teeth bright in the darkness.

  Ivy rushed to make her exit, yanking hard on the flyscreen handle.

  But Angus reached out, pressing his hand against the small of her back and turning her to face him.

  How many times had he done that? Touched her there? Both firm and gentle?

  He stepped even closer.

  ‘This is probably not the done thing,’ he said, ‘but how do you feel about one last goodbye kiss?’

  She should feel it was pointless. A stupid idea.

  Instead, she stood on tiptoes, reaching for him.

  His kiss was gentle. Without demand.

  And still not familiar. Even now, when they’d kissed so many times, it was still exciting, still different. Still special.

  Her fingers curled up into his close-cropped hair, pulling him closer, inviting him to deepen their kiss.

  And he did, but she felt the shape of his smile the second before his tongue brushed against hers.

  Oh, God.

  He was so good at this. Maybe she was good at this too, because his hands were now firmer at her back, drawing her closer.

  She smiled
now as her body pressed against his. So strong, and tall, and broad.

  The tone of the kiss was now far from gentle.

  But it wasn’t desperate, either. This might be their last kiss, but there was no need to rush.

  Then he lifted her just off her feet, moving her to her left until her back was flat against the wall.

  His hands slid around to sit at her waist.

  His mouth broke from hers to trail along her jaw. His breath was hot against her ear.

  ‘I know technically I said a goodbye kiss, but how would you feel about...?’

  And Ivy giggled, and nodded her head, and pulled his mouth back to hers as his warm hands slid beneath her T-shirt.

  There was no question this was unwise, and unnecessary—but then, couldn’t the same be said for nearly everything that had happened between them?

  And she just couldn’t regret any of it. Any of it.

  She knew she wouldn’t regret tonight.

  Soon Angus led her down the hall to his bedroom. He flicked on the light, and she was glad; she needed to see him.

  She’d never been inside his house before tonight, but she barely glanced at anything but the bed.

  She just wanted to get there as soon as possible. Wanted to feel Angus against her as soon as possible.

  But then he was on top of her as she sank into the mattress, and that was all that mattered.

  How he felt, how he made her feel.

  So good.

  Somehow their clothes were gone, and her fingers drew patterns on Angus’s gorgeous bare skin.

  She felt the need to remember this. To savour this.

  Angus had slowed too. His hands traced her curves, sliding from thigh, to hip, to waist, to breast.

  She’d thought before that every kiss they’d had was different.

  But this was different again. This was almost reverent, as if the two of them were etching this moment in their memories.

  As if it were special.

  Angus kissed the hollow beneath her hip. Then her belly, working upwards.

  She shivered, her hands now still on his shoulders. Enjoying this.

  It wasn’t as if this were special. It was special.

  Or at least, it was special to her.

  I love him.

  Her hands gripped his shoulders as she finally admitted the truth to herself.

  That truth was why she’d needed to end this tonight, why she’d decided she no longer had time for pretending and fake anything. Not because it was dangerous, and because she needed to protect herself—but because it was already too late.

  She had a choice now. To push him away. To tell him this was a mistake and escape into the night.

  That would’ve been the right choice. The smart choice. A last-gasp attempt at protecting herself. Protecting her heart.

  He lifted his head, questions in his gaze.

  But she didn’t shove him away. Instead she slid her hands to his arms, as if she were capable of tugging him back up to her.

  Although he still understood what she wanted, and slid his body upwards.

  And he kissed her again. Again, and again, and it was exactly what Ivy wanted.

  She wanted all of this; she wanted him here, close against her, inside her.

  Afterwards, she knew she’d been right.

  She wouldn’t regret this. This last time together.

  But she could certainly regret loving him.

  * * *

  Angus considered leaving a note.

  Ivy was still asleep, curled on her side in his bed.

  He was showered and dressed, and he’d packed yesterday before she’d arrived. He was flying out today—on a mission that he couldn’t tell her about.

  So yes, a note would be easier.

  Instead, he sat on the bed beside her, and reached for her—shaking her shoulder gently.

  It was still dark outside, and Ivy blinked as her eyes adjusted to the glow of his bedside lamp.

  She stretched, reaching her hands above her head so they bumped against the headboard.

  ‘Hey,’ she said, all sleepy.

  ‘Good morning,’ he said. ‘I’m off to work.’

  ‘What time is it?’

  ‘Early,’ he said. ‘Sleep some more. There’s no rush to leave. I just wanted to let you know I’ll be gone for a while.’

  ‘How long?’ she asked, suddenly appearing more awake.

  His lips quirked. ‘I can’t tell you that. Or where I’m going.’

  She nodded in understanding. ‘Okay. But I’m not going to see you any time soon.’

  He didn’t quite know what to make of her expression, but he felt he needed to say something more.

  ‘Last night was fun...’ he began. Then realised what he’d said.

  ‘Hey, that’s my lame line,’ she said. Then her gaze fell downwards. Her fingers tangled in the white bed sheet. ‘But yes, it was fun.’

  He went to stand, needing to go.

  But she laid her hand on his thigh, and he went still.

  ‘Angus—’ she said. Then sighed. She lifted her gaze, meeting his head-on. ‘Look,’ she said, ‘I know what we said. About this being the last time. I know what I said, about that stuff with Tom not being any of my business.’ She paused, but her gaze didn’t waver. ‘But honestly, I did care. I did want to know. And last night I wanted to tell you all about what happened when I spoke to my mum yesterday. But I didn’t, because I’d decided that this had to end.’

  ‘Why?’ he asked.

  ‘Because if I didn’t end it now, I was worried I’d never be able to end it.’

  Angus remained silent.

  ‘I know this isn’t what we planned. I know this isn’t what either of us wanted. And it’s endlessly, impossibly complicated. We need to work together for another eighteen years at least, and we need to be civil. So ending it now is smarter. While we can walk away without hurt feelings and anger and disappointment.’ For a moment, she looked down at her fingers, but only to pull them free of the fabric and lay them flat against her stomach. ‘But what if I don’t want to be smart? What if I’m not quite so scared of making mistakes any more?’

  Not quite so scared.

  But she was still scared. He knew what she was offering him. What she was revealing to him.

  Her gaze was raw. Open. Emotional.

  It was...

  Overwhelming.

  He didn’t know what to think.

  Last night he’d been so worried about her feelings that he’d made her dinner.

  And that had been a mistake.

  That was something he’d do for his partner. His wife.

  That was why it had felt wrong. Because Ivy wasn’t those things.

  No one would ever be those things.

  She was a woman who, through circumstance, he was having a baby with.

  She was smart, and brilliant and beautiful—but that didn’t matter.

  He wasn’t built for more than what they’d had.

  He just wasn’t wired that way.

  Ivy had pulled back subtly, her body no longer leaning towards him.

  ‘I can’t,’ he said, finally.

  For a long while, there was silence.

  ‘You’re wrong,’ Ivy said, eventually. ‘You can. I know you think you’re missing something. I know you think of yourself as some flawed, fighting machine.’

  He wanted to argue, but he met her strong, determined gaze and knew he needed to let her speak.

  Besides—hadn’t he used the same words? To her, that one time, and to himself, many more?

  ‘But, Angus,’ she said, softly, ‘you do care. You do feel. And you do those things so, so deeply.’ She sighed, her l
ips curving into a sad smile. ‘When I told you my plan, all those weeks ago, I’d been so sure you’d accept. I mean, who would pass up the chance to be an instant millionaire? But now I know exactly who can’t be bought with money. The type of person who believes in honesty, and hard work, and doing things the right way, regardless of the cost.’ She paused. ‘A good man. A very good man. A man who wants to know the mother of his child, who insists on being a part of her life for the sake of his child—because he wants the very, very best for his son or daughter. A man who loves his mum, loves his friends, and—yes, I know you’ll roll your eyes when I say this—loves the country he fights for.’

  Her hand was still on his thigh, and she pressed her weight against him, as if to punctuate her point. ‘You don’t lack anything, Angus. You’re capable of anything you want. Even love.’

  It was only now Ivy’s gaze wobbled, and then eventually drifted downwards.

  He didn’t know what to say. He hadn’t expected this.

  But then, he hadn’t expected any of what he’d experienced with Ivy.

  Her words continued to reverberate around his head, but they were too unfamiliar and too new for him to grab onto.

  He’d taken far, far too long to say anything.

  ‘I can’t,’ he said again. It was all he could say.

  ‘Okay,’ she said, and her hand fell away.

  FIFTEEN

  Five weeks later

  April was a lot more excited than Ivy was.

  Her sister had grabbed a brochure from the ultrasound clinic’s reception desk, and opened it up on Ivy’s lap. They sat together in the waiting room, one other couple also waiting patiently in the corner.

  ‘See,’ she said. ‘You can have your 3D scan etched into a glass cube.’

  Ivy raised an eyebrow. ‘How about we wait until we know that I have a healthy baby before we start ordering keepsakes?’

  April bumped her shoulder against Ivy’s. ‘You’ll be fine,’ she said. ‘I know it.’

  It probably wasn’t fair to think that April was more excited than Ivy was. Of course Ivy was excited. After all, today she’d get to really see her baby for the first time. It was just she was also nervous.

  So nervous.

  Silly, really. She’d visited her obstetrician only a few weeks earlier, and everything had been fine. Her baby’s heartbeat was strong.