Sam orders us a cab, and one arrives in minutes.
‘I really thought we’d have driverless cars by now,’ I tell him between kisses as we make out like teenagers in the back seat.
‘We did have them,’ Sam says. ‘But then there was a legal battle over this patent, and they were all taken off the roads until—’
‘Okay, never mind,’ I say, needing him to kiss me more than I need him to explain why driverless cars aren’t part of the future yet. As soon as we get back to the house, I grab Sam’s shirt collar and lead him upstairs. We’re trying to be quiet, but we’re drunk and giggling like children as we kick the door closed behind us.
It’s a strange experience, sleeping with someone who knows my body, someone who knows what I like – who knows things I didn’t even know that I liked. I’m drunk enough not to care that my parents are in the house with us, and at one point Sam has to cover my mouth and say, ‘Lucy, shhhh,’ in this stern voice, which honestly, only turns me on more.
Afterwards, I sit astride him in a heady daze, running a finger down his broad, firm chest. ‘Is that how we usually do it?’ I ask.
‘Not usually that loudly,’ he says, putting a hand on either side of my hips. I rock my pelvis against him, unable to stop smiling. ‘What’s got into you?’ he asks, staring up at me and slowly shaking his head.
‘I woke up and found I was married to a complete hotty.’
He flips me over so I’m lying on my back and he’s on top of me, which makes me squeal with laughter.
‘Maybe there are some advantages to you waking up and thinking you’re twenty-six again, Mrs Rutherford,’ he murmurs in my ear.
Twenty minutes later, as I’m lying in our big, beautiful bed, with Sam’s strong arms wrapped around me, I feel an overwhelming sense of contentment. Sure, it’s not ideal that I’ve missed sixteen years of my life, but this situation certainly has its advantages. I’ll never need to have bad sex ever again or wear cheap footwear that dissolves in the rain. The shower pressure in the bathroom is to die for. Zoya would scream if she saw the size of it. Zoya. All my contentment dissolves, like a hand gently shredding a spiderweb. How could I be happy when she is not here? How could anything in my life be good when she is not there to share it? I wonder if Future Me felt this way too, or if she had learnt to live with this gaping absence.
Sam strokes my hand, and I try to think of something else.
‘Did you find your rings?’ he asks.
‘Oh yes, I’m keeping them safe in there,’ I say, pointing to the drawer.
He leans across me to open it, feels for the rings, then holds up my hand and gently threads them onto my ring finger. ‘Safest place for them,’ he says, turning his head to kiss my neck. I close my hand, trying not to mind. My eye darts to the dressing table, where there’s a framed photo of Felix and Amy sitting on a picnic blanket in a woodland glade. I think back to the story Sam told me about playing with his sisters in the wood. There’s more than a six-year age gap between Felix and Amy, so I don’t expect they’ll ever be close in that way.
‘Why did we wait so long to have a second baby?’ I ask Sam, and his hand stops stroking mine. ‘Six years feels like a long gap.’
Sam’s whole body goes rigid.
‘Oh, love,’ he says, and his voice is full of so much unexpected emotion it makes me sit up in bed.
‘What?’
‘Let’s not talk about that now. We’ve had such a lovely evening . . .’ He trails off. ‘Can we save it for the morning?’ There’s a finality to his tone, and he swiftly scoops me into a spooning position, wrapping his arms around me. It’s a novel feeling to be held so close, to be so warm and entirely cocooned by another body. I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep like this though, I’m too used to spreading out, to sleeping alone. ‘I love you, Lucy,’ Sam says in my ear. I feel I should say it back, to re-centre whatever tonal shift I created, but I don’t. Even though we’ve had the most wonderful evening, I’ve only known him a few days. How could I possibly love him?
As soon as he’s asleep, I quietly slip out of his arms, take off the rings and return them to the bedside drawer. Then I crawl into the other side of the bed, more comfortable sleeping alone than in someone else’s arms.
Chapter 19
‘Well, I think we can all assume “date night” was a success,’ my mother says tightly over breakfast, shooting me a disapproving look. ‘I’m surprised you didn’t wake the children.’
‘Mum, please,’ I hiss, hearing Sam on the stairs.
‘I suppose it’s reassuring. If your marriage is strong, you can survive anything. You’ve been through worse.’
Have I? Before I can ask her what she means, Sam appears at the kitchen door.
‘Morning, Margot,’ he says. ‘Sleep well?’
Mum clears her throat, then takes a loud sip of her coffee. ‘Adequately, thank you.’
Sam has been in a strange mood since he woke up. Maybe like me, he’s a little hungover. He opens the fridge, closes it, opens it again, stares at the contents for a minute, then closes it one final time before turning back to Mum and me. ‘Something has come up,’ he says, his face serious. ‘There’s this recording session in Manchester tomorrow, with a full orchestra, it’s been scheduled for months. What with everything going on here, I’d asked a colleague to stand in for me, but he just messaged to say he’s sick.’ He pauses. ‘There’s no one else, and I’d be letting a lot of people down if I don’t go.’
‘Of course you should go!’ Mum says. ‘We can stay and help Lucy.’
‘I don’t want you to miss your festival, Mum, I’ll be fine,’ I say.
‘Maria will be here to help first thing tomorrow, but I wouldn’t be back until Tuesday morning,’ Sam says, looking at me hopefully.
‘We’ll stay until the morning,’ offers Mum. ‘Most of the talks don’t start until midday anyway.’
‘What do you think, Luce?’ Sam asks me.
‘Of course I can manage,’ I say, feeling insulted. ‘Honestly, you don’t think I can cope for less than forty-eight hours with the help of grandparents, a nanny, school and nursery?’ Mum and Sam exchange glances. ‘I am a competent adult, I’m not thirteen.’
Mum clears her throat. ‘You seem entirely compos mentis to me.’
Sam combs a hand through his hair, his face serious.
‘Fine. If you’re sure you don’t mind staying, Margot? There’s a list on the fridge of anything you might need, Maria knows it all anyway.’ He pauses, looking at me again. ‘I’ll need to get the train up there this morning so I have time to prepare.’