“Five o’clock. When we’re done with Cara’s appointment.”
“That’s a shame. I was hoping we could get there a lot sooner. I want to spend as much time with your family as we can.”
“Me, too,” I tell him. “But work is work. You know that better than anyone.”
He pulls me into his arms on the landing, rocking me from side to side like he’s soothing me.
“Baby, you don’t need to work if you don’t want to. You can give it up tomorrow and spend as much time with your family as you want. Hell, we’ll get them all a place down the road if you want us to.”
I pull away enough to look up at him.
“What?”
“Your job,” he repeats. “You can give it up anytime you want, baby. You’ll be giving it up in due time, regardless. It’s up to you when you choose to.”
“But I’m not…” I start. “I don’t want to leave my job. I love my job.”
He smiles so bright. “I know, sweetheart. I know. And you’re incredible at it. But when you’re a wife and a mother, I know you’re going to want to give every second to that. I know you’ll be giving up your position organising other people’s lives and focusing more on your own.”
I hadn’t thought that far ahead. The idea of walking away from Wedding Bliss and my career feels a million miles away.
“The option’s there, whenever you want to take it,” he says again. “That’s just an option, baby. It’s totally up to you. I just want you to realise that it’s there.”
“Thanks,” I say, and hug him nice and tight. “But I won’t be giving up my job anytime soon. I love it way too much for that. Just like you love yours.”
He brushes some of my hair behind my ear, smiling at me like I’m the most beautiful girl in the world.
“That’s one of the things I love most about you, princess. The way you put so much of yourself into everything you do. It’ll be an honour to see how devoted you are to our children. You’ll make me the proudest man alive.”
He’s holding my hand as we walk into the bedroom, and I get a rush at the memory of his bedside drawers. The little puppet toys have been far from my mind, but that’s no surprise, considering I’ve been battling freakout fears about some random serial killer called Bob.
“Wait a minute, please,” I ask Ant. “Cover your eyes for me.”
He does what I ask him to, and I dart around to his side of the bed, opening up his bottom drawer as quietly as I can.
“No peeking!” I say, pushing ten of the little monsters onto my fingers as I crouch. “And… open them!”
He opens his eyes, and I’m ready for him, jumping up to my feet with the finger puppets jiggling. I wish I wasn’t laughing too much to do the voices. I had them all planned out in my head.
I look over at Ant with tears in my eyes from peeing myself so much, but I stop laughing in a heartbeat when I see the expression on his face. I’ve never seen him so angry. He looks like I’ve just taken a shit on his bed.
“What?” I ask him. “Sorry, they’re just so funny.”
“How the fuck did you find them?!” he barks, and he’s right up alongside me. He clamps my wrist in his hand and pulls the toys from my fingers one by one, shoving them back in the bag.
“I was looking for the mattress room key. I was being a clutz and barged the drawers. The bottom one stubbed my toe and I saw the bag in there. One of the little arms was sticking out.”
His fingers are shaking as he ties the bag back up, and this time there’s no little arm showing. He shoves it back in the drawer and slams it closed, eyes still stern as hell.
“I’m sorry, Ant. I really am,” I say. “I thought it would be funny.”
“It’s not funny to go rooting through other people’s things, Cass!”
“No… I know that, but I didn’t mean to. I didn’t think it would be such a big deal…”
His expression is scathing, hurt.
“Do you honestly think I’d have a bag of rubber fucking finger puppets in my bedroom fucking drawer if it wasn’t a big deal to me? Do you have a bag of kids’ toys in your bottom drawer? I fucking doubt it.”
He walks away from me and runs his hands through his hair. I feel shit inside, like I’ve committed a mortal sin. I sit myself down on the bed and try to hold back the tears.
“I’m sorry, Ant. I didn’t think.”
He takes a breath, and paces back and forth, trying to calm himself down.
“I’m sorry,” I say again. “Please, will you tell me what’s going on with them?”