A Baby To Save Their Marriage. Scarlet Wilson
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wave of guilt washed over him.
‘Maybe we could wait, maybe we could go somewhere later in the year?’
Addison picked up the notepad she’d been writing on next to the phone.
She sighed. ‘Then it will be another deal, another business. I’m tired of this. Decide what your priorities are. Because I’ve had enough.’
‘You’re giving me an ultimatum?’
He couldn’t believe it. It felt like a bolt out of the blue. And he couldn’t believe Addison was actually behaving like this.
She walked over to him and looked up at him with her clear green eyes. He’d never seen them look so sincere. There was no hesitation. None at all. ‘Yes, I am.’ She turned and walked up the stairs.
He sagged against the wall as his phone rang again. He pulled it out of his pocket. Harry. His partner. He’d need to talk to him later.
He shrugged off his damp coat. What on earth was he going to do? He had a million different things still to sort out for this deal. He’d assumed he would come home, placate Addison, give both her and Tristan a kiss, send them on their way and get back to work.
‘Daddy!’ Tristan ran down the stairs towards him. ‘Come and see what I’ve packed.’
His heart melted as he scooped the little guy up into his arms. Tristan kept talking. ‘We’re going on a big plane. And then on a little plane. Can you buy a plane, Daddy?’
He walked up the stairs towards Tristan’s room. ‘Daddy, you’re all wet. What have you been doing?’
He smiled. ‘I’ve been out in the rain.’
He set Tristan down at the entrance to his room and Tristan dive-bombed on top of his neatly packed case. ‘Whee! Look, Daddy, I’ve sneaked in some extra toys.’ He peered over his shoulder. ‘Shh...don’t tell Mummy.’
Caleb sat down on the bed and glanced in the case. Sure enough, tucked in between socks and suncream were a whole array of wrestlers and a tiny army of cars. He let out a laugh. Tristan always did this. Addison would tell him he was allowed to bring two wrestlers, or two cars, depending on where they were going, and Tristan would find a way to sneak another few into his pockets, Addison’s bag or, on occasion, Caleb’s briefcase.
He felt a little pang. When was the last time Tristan had done that?
And more importantly, why would it be his briefcase? It felt as if it were permanently attached to his hand—and that must be the way it seemed to his son.
He leaned forward as he watched Tristan play. A full-blown wrestling match had started above the clothes. When was the last time he’d watched Tristan play?
Everything Addison had just said to him was firing off sparks in his brain. In most instances, he was searching desperately for memories of the last time he’d done something with his wife and son. And the more he searched, the guiltier he felt.
She’d meant it. She’d looked into his eyes and meant it when she’d said they wouldn’t come home.
He’d thought Addison and he would be together for ever. At least, that was what it used to feel like. He’d already decided a few days ago that there was no way he could go on this holiday. He just actually hadn’t taken the time to sit down and talk to his wife about it.
More fool him.
Something was wrong. Something was very wrong and he hadn’t paid attention until around ten minutes ago.
He knew exactly what had happened to Addison.
He had.
He pulled his phone out of his pocket as he watched Tristan. He was still in charge of the wrestling match. He was so happy and good-natured. He couldn’t ask for a better son.
Tristan glanced at him and thrust a wrestler towards him. ‘Here, Daddy, you can have this one. He’s getting old, like you.’
There was such an innocence in his words. Tristan thought he was old? But of course he did. He’d spent the last three years looking tired and that would be all the memories that Tristan had of him.
He looked around the room. It was still decorated in baby blues. Underneath the bed was a pile of fresh wallpaper, bedding and stickers all covered in pictures of planets. He’d promised to decorate around eight months ago. The pile had been there ever since.
But there was more. Addison had brought up the subject of having another baby around a year ago.
He’d always imagined they’d have a big family. He’d always wanted to have a big family.
But her words had gripped him in a way he hadn’t expected.
They’d never really sat down and discussed it. But Addison had paled into a shadow of herself in the months after giving birth to Tristan. He’d helped as much as he could. He’d frequently got up and done the night feeds. He’d made excuses for not being at work. He’d stayed around as frequently as he could, at first, to try and give her a break, and then to try and get them to spend time together as a family. For the first few months her face had been almost blank when she’d looked at Tristan. It had felt as if she were slipping away a little more each day.
He’d spoken to the GP. He’d spoken to the health visitor—asking what else he could do. They’d reassured him he was doing everything he could and just to be patient. Finally, he’d seen little glimpses of his wife again. A smile when she saw Tristan smile. A willingness to take part. The dark circles had eventually dimmed beneath her eyes and the spark of life that always surrounded her had finally emerged again.
He couldn’t let that happen to her again. He wouldn’t do that to his wife again.
As he stared around Tristan’s room it was as if everything came crashing down on him all at once.
He’d thought he might lose his family once before.
There was no way he could let this happen. There was no way he was letting his family slip through his fingers. The thought of coming home at night to an empty house filled him with horror.
He had to sort this. He had to. He didn’t want to imagine his world without them in it.
He pressed the redial button on his phone. ‘Harry, there’s been a change of plan.’
His phone buzzed as he kept talking. He walked through to the bedroom. Addison wasn’t there. A large suitcase was sitting open on the bed, completely empty. It must be for him.
As Harry kept talking Caleb reached into his large wardrobe and picked up a whole stack of T-shirts, dropping them into the suitcase exactly the way they were. He had to lean further back to find a pile of shorts. He sent a silent prayer above that they might actually still fit as he threw them and some swimming shorts into the case. Underwear was easy. He pulled out one entire drawer and tipped it up into the case.
Feet. What would he wear on his feet?
He looked down. His feet were damp from his earlier walk through the soaked London streets. He kicked off his shoes and dropped his trousers to the floor. His shirt was pulled over his head and abandoned with the rest of his things on the floor.
What to travel in? He grabbed a pair of three-quarter-length trousers and a polo shirt, sticking his feet into a pair of baseball boots and throwing some others in the case.
Tristan appeared at the door and smiled at his father’s packing efforts. He tucked a few wrestlers into the case along with a London bus, New York taxi cab and space shuttle. ‘I had a few spares. I’ll give you a little loan.’
Caleb laughed. By the time Tristan was finished the entire contents of his room would be hidden between the three cases.
Caleb looked around. Was he done? His briefcase sat in the corner of the room. The charging cables for his phone and laptop were in there. He’d be able to work wherever they