Part 19 (1/2)

Trish is, he thinks, as he walks up the stairs to her room, completely selfless. She makes him feel like the most important man in the world. She creates a beautiful home, cooks like a dream, runs a hugely successful business, is a loving and present mother. She is the woman who has it all, the domestic G.o.ddess personified.

It will kill Gabby when she finds out. When he tells her he is living with Trish, not just dating her. But he knows he will have to tell her.

Why did she have to buy the watch? It was so ... sad. So desperate. So heartbreaking. The hope in her eyes and the disappointment when he couldn't take it. There was no question of him taking it. He knew exactly what it was, and he knew too that he couldn't not tell her about Trish. Not when Gabby's need for him was so evident.

He never wanted to hurt her. However much she has hurt him a and my G.o.d, the pain these last few months has been, at times, almost unbearable a he has never wanted to cause her pain. He did, tonight, telling her about Trish; he had no choice.

Things with Trish seem to be serious. Elliott walks into the bedroom, marvelling at how beautiful she looks, lying there with her legs crossed, not a patch of stubble on them, her nail polish always perfectly, prettily pink, her hair slicked back behind her ears.

*How was it?' she asks, craning up for a kiss.

*It was good. Good for the kids. A little awkward.'

She reaches up and caresses his cheek. *You're a good man, Elliott. You did the right thing.'

*This is what I love about you,' he says, careful not to say he loves her, because he is not there yet, even though he suspects he may be well on the way. *You give me room to do the things I have to do.'

*I'm not the jealous type,' she says with a smile.

*I know. And it makes it possible for me to be the man I want to be. To show up for my kids. To be a father to them, and to give them a Christmas they couldn't have otherwise had. Thank you.' He lifts her hand, brings it to his lips and kisses it. *Honestly. Thank you for never being threatened by Gabby or the relations.h.i.+p I have to have with her for the sake of the children.'

*I'm not threatened by Gabby.' Trish smiles again, pulling him in for a kiss. *I'm not threatened by anyone.'

Elliott likes being married. He likes being a father. He likes familiarity, and comfort, and knowing where he stands. These past months, marked first with the awkwardness of staying with Claire and Tim, then with the loneliness of living in the little house close to the railroad tracks that never felt like home, have thrown him.

Nothing felt right. Elliott would wake up in the morning feeling out of sorts, unable to regain his equilibrium, no matter what he did. His equilibrium had always come from being married and everything that derived from that: waking up next to a woman you love; raising your children together; phoning each other a couple of times during the day just to check in, or remind the other of a dinner date they may have forgotten about. His equilibrium came from being able to go down to the boatyard at the weekends and chat with the men there about the old boats for sale, knowing his wife was at home, taking care of the kids, getting lunch ready, keeping everything balanced and even.

Until Trish, nothing had felt balanced for a while, and Elliott wasn't a man able to deal with his life being off-kilter. If it hadn't been Trish, it might have been someone else.

Yet if it hadn't been for Trish, it is entirely possible Elliott would have found himself staying in the spare room tonight.

If it hadn't been for Trish, it is entirely possible Elliott would have lain under the blanket on the new bed in the spare room, listening to Gabby as she finished clearing up the kitchen.

It is entirely possible he would have fallen asleep thinking about the years they were married, how happy they were, how she looked when she lay underneath him, gazing into his eyes with love. He would have been woken up in the early hours of the morning by the creaking of the stairs, would have emerged from his bedroom to find Gabby creeping down to fill the stockings while the girls were fast asleep, moving as quietly as she could to avoid the danger of them waking up and seeing that there is no Santa Claus, even though they both know there is no Santa Claus.

He would have crept down alongside her, smiling in the darkness, to help with the stockings, and while they were filling them perhaps their hands would have met, in the soft illumination of the Christmas tree, and then they wouldn't have been smiling, and he would have been kissing her, melting in the familiarity of her lips, the smell of her, the feel of her hair.

If it hadn't been for Trish, perhaps he would have gone home.

But then he remembers the b.u.mp, the baby. Then he remembers the betrayal that ruined his life, that will never go away, that will be a daily reminder of how his wife screwed him a screwed someone other than him. And his heart closes down, and he is thankful, so thankful, that Trish came along when she did.

Chapter Twenty-Nine.

Gabby is weighed down with dread in the morning. Elliott and Trish. Trish and Elliott. She slept terribly, waking up all night with visions of her husband and Trish playing in her mind. She hadn't prepared for this, hadn't imagined, not for a second, that Elliott would even be thinking about dating anyone else.

Don't they say that men take far longer to get over things because they can't process them emotionally in the way women can? Why isn't Elliott taking longer to get over her? How is it possible that he has moved on so quickly? Jesus. It's hardly been any time at all.

With Trish of all people. She groans out loud. *I hate her,' she says suddenly.

Alanna overhears as she pa.s.ses Gabby's bedroom, her arms filled with goodies from her stocking. *Who do you hate?'

*What? No one,' she says quickly. *I was just thinking of the lyrics to a song.'

*I hate her?' Alanna gives her a strange look. *Are you sure?'

*Yes,' Gabby insists, heaving herself out of bed and stumbling to the bathroom.

*Wow, Mom! You're huge.'

*Thanks, Alanna,' Gabby snaps. *Way to go to make your mom feel good at Christmas.'

Alanna follows her into the doorway. *Sorry, Mom. It's just ... you look like you're about to give birth.'

*I hope not.' Then Gabby reconsiders. *Actually I wish. But it's still rather early. I have to tell you, I feel ready. I cannot wait to hold this new baby in my arms.' She looks up at her daughter. *I can't believe I'm going to have another little one. Oh, Alanna, you were both so gorgeous when you were tiny. I don't mean that you aren't gorgeous now, but I still can't quite believe I'm going to have a tiny baby again.'

*Don't cry, Mom. You should be happy.'

Gabby starts to laugh. *I am! I'm just sentimental. I'm so crazy about babies, and I never thought I'd have another one. These are tears of joy.'

*Mom? Can I ask you something? The baby's father. Are you still in touch with him?'

Gabby sighs. This is so hard. She didn't want the girls to know, but in the end she couldn't protect them. But how does she explain this, when she isn't even sure she's doing the right thing?

*I'm not, and I honestly don't know what I'm going to do. He's young, and not ready for children. I don't want to impose upon his life. I think at some point I might let him know, but I have no expectations, and I think it's better this way.'

Alanna thinks for a while. *But don't you think the baby deserves to know who his father is?'

Yes, thinks Gabby. But she always hoped Elliott would step up to fill the role; she still hopes Elliott will step up to fill the role. *I think,' she says, *we'll cross that bridge when we come to it.'

Alanna says nothing, leaving the room to take her stash of goodies back downstairs.

Today, Elliott's presence is getting on Gabby's nerves. The fantasies of them all playing a happy family, the fake perfection and cosiness of last night are long gone. Gabby watches him frying bacon, pretending that everything's fine, and feels a surge of anger. His happiness has nothing to do with her, and everything to do with that b.i.t.c.h Trish.

How she blames Trish. It doesn't matter that it could have been anyone, that Elliott is free to date, given that they are officially separated; it doesn't matter that Gabby was unfaithful to him, is pregnant with another man's child; all that matters is that Trish is the woman who stole her husband, and Gabby will never be able to say her name without gnas.h.i.+ng her teeth in rage.

I bet this is Claire's doing, she thinks, in a flash of fury. For years she called herself my best friend, then couldn't wait to set my husband up with Trish, the one woman guaranteed to make me nuts. Claire, who emailed her a while back out of the blue, who now sends her emails on a fairly regular basis, as if nothing is wrong between them, as if they are still great friends.

Claire, who fills those emails with funny stories about her child, the horrors of being the oldest mother in the mommy and me group, the bags under her eyes large enough to carry groceries in, thanks to the endless sleepless nights.

Initially flabbergasted to receive a chatty, warm, information-filled email from her former best friend, speaking to Gabby as if she hadn't dropped her like a dirty s.h.i.+rt at a time when Gabby needed her most, after a while she couldn't help but enjoy Claire's emails.