Page 38 of How We Loved

“What? Are you joking?”

“Nope. Tristan negotiated.”

I didn’t answer. Tristan?? What a bastard.

Six figures, though...

Fucking hell...

Need to sleep. Will worry about an imaginary wedding tomorrow.

Boxing Day

So much more relaxing than yesterday, although I do feel guilty even thinking that. Mum and Dad do try, and they are never tight with the booze. Mum has normally done a Harrods Food Hall run and stocked up on the very best cheese – an amazing one from the south of France, which I basically hid at my end of the table.

The thing is, though, you can never just lounge about, shove chocolate in your mouth and chill, which is basically what today has been like in Dorset with Ben’s family. A buffet of leftovers, TV on, and everyone slobbing about. The McCannon’s would never do anything so low key.

I decided – very maturely, I might add—to ignore the wedding clanger that Ben dropped last night before bed. We can talk about it tomorrow. When Ben has his Christmas present. And no, sex with me isn’t a Christmas present. Seriously, I don’t think I have the skills for that, but I have come up with a plan post talking to Baz. I gave it to Ben earlier. No, not that (note for prosperity, it wasn’t sex). Yesterday I gave him his notebooks and box of biros which left him looking a littl bemused, to say the least.

The only thing is, to do what I want to do tomorrow with Ben is going to mean doing the hardest thing I’ve contemplated in a long time. Harder than when I upped and left my old life and started uni. Harder than all the (too many) times Ben and I have been off.

I’m leaving Hope with Bev for the night so Ben and I can have an evening away – I’ve booked the pea green hotel in Lyme Regis.

I know Hope will be more than fine with Bev. She’s Ben’s mum for God’s sake. She’s a grandmother. However… leaving Hope even to try and help Ben seems much harder than I thought it would be. I guess I never expected that. It’s like I’m not sure if I’ll be able to think straight if I’m not with her, maybe even breathe. That sounds very Lilah dramatic – which I am trying very hard not to be these days. Even if I’m not being dramatic, I’m still panicking about leaving her. I can’t help it.

Ben’s face when I told him what his real Christmas present was. Well, it was part shock, surprise, and sheer panic. Tomorrow we are going away for one night of couple time. I’ve got to get to the bottom of what’s going on with him, for his benefit, but also mine. We’re going to drive each other crazy otherwise.

27th December

At least this time we visited Lyme Regis, there was less chance of me getting drunk and saying something stupid, which is what I’ve done the previous two visits. It was nice, romantic even, but I still managed to put my foot in it.

We were strolling down the Cobb – the fateful setting of my last two bloopers – and Ben was swinging my hand in his. We were being blustered from all angles by an evil wind, but in true British style, we were soldiering on through it. I think Ben wanted to suggest we just give up and go to the pub, but he knows diet Coke and crisps don’t have quite the same appeal as a good old pint of lager and cheese and onion Walkers.

“This is nice,” he said as an icy jet harpooned us straight in the face, making my eyes sting and water.

“So nice,” I agreed.

“Lovely weather for it.”

“I thought so.”

We walked on in silence for a moment, but then I started to laugh, one of those come-from-the-belly, snort-at-will laughs. “Are we talking about the weather now? Is this what we’ve come to?”

He grinned too, just as it started lashing it with rain.

“We could go back to the room?” I suggested.

“We could.”

“We can’t get pregnant again,” I clarified, just because you know – let's not take any chances on that front.

Ben’s eyes widened while his lips hooked into a cheeky grin. “I don’t know what you’re implying, Miss McCannon. I didn’t know the possibility was on the cards.”

“Well,” I stubbed my toe into a fast-forming puddle. “It’s been five weeks. I mean, that’s pretty close to six, isn’t it?”

His fingers tugged me closer. “Has it? I haven’t been counting.”

“Unless, maybe, you’re a bit scared of the aftermath down there.” I know I was.