Model Boyfriend

  That was all she said.

  Nick’s heart pulsed painfully.

  “You think I’d lie about this?”

  She stared at him disdainfully, her own pain locked and hidden away.

  “I think you’ve been lying to yourself ever since your testimonial at Twickenham. I don’t think you know what you want, but it definitely isn’t a wife … or a family.”

  Nick gripped the sides of his head as if the words she was saying physically hurt him to hear.

  “I want that more than anything. Anna, please!”

  She turned away, staring out of the window.

  “It doesn’t feel like it. I haven’t felt like part of this relationship for a long time.” Her shoulders stiffened. “I’ve done everything to support you and I’ve waited for you to come home.” She turned around and stared at him, her gaze hardening again. “But you only came back when you absolutely had to. You never came back for us, for me.”

  Nick shook his head helplessly.

  “That’s not true. I’ve done everything for us! I know I’ve been different since my testimonial—I fucking know that! I had no idea that everything would be so hard. I’ve been trying and trying—trying to be the kind of man who deserves you! Someone with drive! Someone with purpose—not a has-been. Can’t you see that?”

  For a moment, he caught a tiny movement in her lips, but the softness disappeared and her mouth flattened.

  “No, that’s not what I see.”

  He tried to reach for her, to hold her, to convince her with his touch, but she stood up and stepped away from him.

  “I’d prefer it if you slept in the spare room again tonight.”

  Then she swept out of the room, and Nick had nothing.

  He felt frozen, the panic and fear turning to a creeping cold that numbed him. How could he have got this so wrong? Had he misread everything? The look in her eyes when she told him that she didn’t believe him, it had been the most intense mental pain he’d ever experienced.

  He stared down at his hands, surprised to find that they were shaking.

  They’d never argued like this. Not even when things were at their worst five years ago—she’d never looked at him with such remoteness in her eyes.

  He’d seen the barriers going up, and it drove him crazy to realize that he’d made her do it; each brick made from another thoughtless, stupid thing that he’d said or done. He’d glimpsed the pain in her eyes before they’d cooled and hardened, and it damn near broke him: he’d done everything for her, but all she’d seen was his selfishness, him leaving her again and again. And he didn’t know how to explain anymore that it was because of her he pushed himself so hard.

  Anger began to burn inside him. He knew he wasn’t good with words, but she had to listen to him, she had to hear him.

  And Nick was not a man who gave up when he really wanted something.

  He ran up the stairs and opened their bedroom door, letting it slam against the wall.

  She lay on their bed with her back toward him, her spine stiff.

  “Come with me,” he said.

  ANNA’S BRAIN TRIPPED over itself trying to understand what Nick was saying to her.

  He walked around the bed and picked up her unresponsive hands, holding them in his.

  “Come with me. You’re right. We’ve done the apart thing long enough. You’re always saying you can work anywhere, so come with me! It’ll be an adventure. Brendan can fly out once a week or whatever. We’ll rent a house. Please, Anna,” he said, his voice breaking. “Please. Come with me.”

  She pulled her hands from his and sat up slowly.

  Nick’s heart lurched when he saw that she was crying.

  “Why?” she said, her voice raw. “What’s the point?”

  “Anna … I fucking love you. That’s the point. That’s why I want you to come with me.” He rubbed his forehead. “I know … I think I know … I think I understand, but don’t you see that I’ve been doing all of this for you, for us? How can I be a husband, a father one day, when I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing? God, you work so hard, and I’m at home sitting on my arse. I’m trying, Anna! Believe me, I’m trying. Maybe I’m saying it all wrong, maybe I’m doing it all wrong. Fuck, I don’t know what I’m doing, but without you, it doesn’t mean anything. You, you’re everything. And maybe I don’t say it enough, but I want to deserve you and I know I don’t. Everything I do, Anna, every breath I breathe, it’s for you.”

  Anna swallowed, her heavy eyes meeting his.

  She saw the pain and confusion. She saw the frustration and desperation. And she saw the truth: he loved her.

  Was it really that simple?

  He loves me.

  “I’ve been such an idiot,” she said to herself, her voice fading.

  Nick frowned, uncertain of her meaning.

  She scowled at him, her dark eyes flashing with fire.

  “You maybe couldn have said all that a couple of months ago, or maybe six, or maybe twelve? You wait till now to tell me all this?”

  Nick’s expression faltered.

  “I thought you knew,” he said softly.

  Anna sighed, a sound of exasperation.

  “Nick,” she said gently, cupping his cheek. “I’m not a mind-reader. I only know if you tell me.”

  He blinked and gave a tentative smile, closing his eyes and leaning into her hand.

  “I’m not very bright, Anna. Too many knocks on the head.”

  She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him against her so his head was resting over her heart.

  “It’s true,” she said, a smile in her voice. “For a smart guy you can be awful dumb. And I think it’s catching, because I’ve definitely been suffering from the same brand of dumbness lately.”

  “Are we okay?” he asked softly.

  “No,” she sighed, “but I think we will be.”

  He sat up, drawing her with him, so they were both propped against the headboard.

  “Will you come with me? To France?”

  Anna rolled the idea around in her head. Brendan had suggested it, but she’d been so pig-headed, so certain that Nick didn’t want her. So certain, and so wrong.

  Nick’s hopeful expression fell at her continuing silence.

  “Actually,” she said slowly, “I have something to tell you, as well. I was going to tell you yesterday when I came home but…”

  She shrugged.

  Nick swallowed, steeling himself for bad news.

  “Two pieces of news,” she said tentatively.

  Nick wished she’d hurry up. He was having palpitations waiting for the axe to fall.

  “I had a meeting with Isabel Buxton yesterday, the senior producer on Loose Women. And she offered me a job.”

  Nick had expected something else and now he was even more off balance.

  “Doing what? Research?”

  “Not exactly. She wants me to be one of the presenters, one of the anchors.”

  Nick felt as though his heart had stopped beating. This was it. She was leaving him for something better.

  “Congratulations,” he said, his voice hoarse. “You deserve it.”

  “Thank you,” she said carefully, aware that his endorsement was hardly heart-felt. “I haven’t said yes yet.”

  Nick looked down at his hands, those hands that were bent and gnarled from more breaks and sprains than he could count.

  “But you will,” he said, his voice empty.

  Anna didn’t reply immediately.

  “It’s two days of filming each week in West London. Two consecutive days. For the other five days a week I can be … anywhere I like.”

  A kernel of hope sprouted in Nick’s barren heart.

  “Where do you want to be?” he murmured, holding his breath.

  “With you,” she said simply. “If you want me.”

  Relief rushed through him like cool water on a blistering day, but Anna held up her hand as he started to reach for her.

  “I have tw
o pieces of news, remember? And the second one pretty much trumps everything else.”

  He looked up at her expectantly, his whiskey-coloured eyes wide and trusting.

  Anna took her courage in her hands and met his gaze.

  “I’m pregnant.”

  Nick stared. Doubted. And finally, finally, the meaning sank in.

  A thousand words roared in his head, all were hopelessly inadequate, none of them could express how he felt.

  He took her face gently between his broken, battered hands and kissed her softly, sweetly: her mouth, her cheeks, her forehead, the tip of her nose, making her giggle. And then he leaned down and gently kissed her belly.

  Happy tears filled Anna’s eyes and she stroked his unruly hair.

  “Are you okay with this?” she whispered.

  His head moved against her stomach in a tiny nod, but he didn’t speak.

  “Truly?”

  When he looked up at her, tears glistened in his eyes.

  “We made a baby?”

  “Yes, we did.”

  Nick closed his eyes, and Anna watched the most glorious smile spread across his beautiful face.

  “We made a baby,” he sighed, resting his head on her belly again. “Hey, junior, it’s your dad here. It’s nice to meet you. Well, I won’t meet you for a while…”

  He frowned, glancing up at Anna.

  “When’s he due?”

  “ ‘He’ might be a ‘she’.”

  “Okay. When’s she due?”

  “April 26th.”

  He leaned down again, still speaking to her belly.

  “Okay, so we won’t actually meet until April, but that’s cool. I’m not sure if you’re Little Nick or Little Anna, but don’t worry about it. I’ll just call you Mini Me.”

  Anna laughed as Nick grinned up at her.

  “Hmm, okay,” she smiled. “We might need to discuss that.”

  But Nick had a distant, dreamy look on his face, his happiness so obvious that Anna couldn’t help the burst of joy that she felt through every part of her body.

  “Kiss me, Nick,” she whispered.

  He sat up slowly.

  “Is it okay to … you know?”

  Anna laughed gently.

  “It’s very okay. In fact it’s required.”

  Nick grinned back.

  “Well, in that case…” and his warm, soft lips came down on hers, his beard brushing against her skin.

  She reached up, tugging on his shoulders so he was hovering above her.

  “And Nick?”

  “Yes, luv?”

  “I love you, too. I never stopped loving you. Never.”

  His expression became serious.

  “Without you, I…”

  His throat clogged and he couldn’t go on.

  Anna tugged gently on a lock of his hair.

  “Nick, don’t you get it? We’re stronger together.”

  He nodded, still unable to speak.

  Anna smiled, pressing a kiss to his lips.

  “And yes, I’ll come to France.”

  ANNA’S ANNOUNCEMENT THAT she’d be following Nick to France sent Brendan into a frenzy.

  “Oh my God, Annie! I have only one month to get all my outfits for La Belle France! How could you do this to me?”

  She stared at him in amusement.

  “Um, excuse me! Were you or were you not the person who told me, just two days ago, that I should go with him?”

  Brendan waved her excuse away.

  “That’s not the point!”

  “It kind of is.”

  He rounded on her with a fierce look.

  “Nick, he of the butt cheeks that you want to bounce quarters off, is going to play rugby with a team of studly men, French men, who are God’s gift to other men, and I have nothing to wear. Now, this may seem like a tiny dilemma to you, baby-mama…”

  “I told you not to call me that!”

  “…but to me, this is a life-defining moment!”

  And he swept his laptop into his shoulder bag then announced that he was taking the rest of the week off to shop.

  “But we have work to do!” Anna protested feebly.

  “So do I!” he called over his shoulder. “And looking gorgeous is my top priority!”

  Anna sighed as she heard the front door slam.

  She loved Brendan, but sometimes he was just so … so … so Brendan.

  Nick was leaving in two days. He’d been hitting the home gym hard and trying to build up some of the bulk that he’d lost while he’d been modelling.

  Anna had been busy, too.

  The French season had already started so Nick needed to leave immediately. For the first month, he’d be living in a house that the club rented near the training ground, together with three other teammates. In the meantime, Anna was looking at websites with rental properties in and around Carcassonne with a spare bedroom for Brendan and space for her to have a home office.

  The club’s relocation team were really helpful and had sent her details of a couple of houses that could work. They’d also promised to get her signed up with a local doctor as well as an obstetrician at the newly built hospital, Carcassonne Centre Hospitalier, which apparently had an excellent maternity wing.

  They’d also agreed to pay for two flights a month for her and Brendan to travel to France, and Nick would be allowed to fly back to London on weekends when he didn’t have a game. Privately, Anna thought that having the occasional weekend to explore the south of France would be fun.

  They were definitely a considerate club to work for, considerate of family life; either that or they were so desperate to secure Nick that they’d have offered pretty much anything he asked for. But as far as Anna was concerned, that just meant they had good taste.

  She was still worried about Nick getting injured again, and more than a little anxious about the possibility of having her baby in a country where she didn’t speak the language, and far preferred the plan where she’d be back in London. She also knew that babies came when they were ready, and it would be sensible to be monitored in both countries.

  Because their English was quite limited, so communication wasn’t always easy, the people at the club were offering to arrange free French lessons for her and Nick.

  Thank goodness for Brendan who was fluent in more than flirting.

  When Anna told her mother the news—both parts—there was stunned silence followed by a happy squeal.

  “Imgoingtobeagrandmotheratlast!”

  Or words to that effect since Anna wasn’t entirely sure what she’d said because she’d had to yank the phone away from her ear.

  Then her mom promised to fly over as often as she could, including for the last month of Anna’s pregnancy.

  So Anna changed the search parameters on the house in France again: now she was going to need four bedrooms.

  Nick’s parents were equally pleased, and his mother insisted on speaking to Anna, and then promptly bursting into tears, crying and thanking Anna for making her son so happy.

  Trish was bouncing, too, promising lots of shopping trips for baby clothes and maternity clothes, and planning to come to Carcassonne to “meet some French hunks”.

  “Not if Brendan gets there first,” Anna mumbled to herself.

  The only thing that stopped Anna’s happiness from being complete was the ongoing threat of a court case.

  So far, Molly’s publishers hadn’t backed down, but Mark assured her that it was just a matter of time.

  Anna desperately hoped that he was right.

  “My dear, they’re after publicity more than money. Although the free publicity certainly has a monetary value. But they won’t want to deal with a court case—especially being counter-sued, because they have a chance of losing that. They’ll withdraw the writ at the most opportune time for them.”

  “But the book’s coming out next week!” Anna groaned.

  “Exactly. There’ll be an initial burst of interest, then when sales start to flag,
they’ll have a second bite of the publicity cherry by magnanimously settling the claim out of court. Mark my words!”

  And he laughed at his own joke.

  Anna was dreading publication of the book. Nick refused to discuss it. He said that he’d wasted enough time on “that woman” and wasn’t going to give “her bloody awful book” a single thought.

  If only it was that easy.

  NICK LEFT FOR France, excited about playing rugby again, and at the same time torturing himself by having to leave Anna behind “in her condition”.

  She reminded him that she was pregnant not ill, but he still gave her a long list of instructions on what to eat, how often to rest, what sort of exercise was regarded as safe during the first trimester, with a level of detail that surprised Anna, then started to annoy her.

  In the days before he left, he watched her like a hawk, cooking only the healthiest meals and confiscating all her candy, cookies and cakes that she kept for emergencies.

  “They’re not healthy,” he said severely, tossing the cake and cookies out for the birds, and throwing the candy in the trash. “Too much processed sugar isn’t good for you.”

  Anna smiled sweetly and thanked him for being so caring, then slunk off to her office where she had a box of Milk Tray hidden in her desk under lock and key: emergency rations.

  When she told Brendan two days later, he sighed and fanned himself.

  “A hot daddy—it’s the stuff dreams are made of. I’d call him ‘daddy’ any day of the week.”

  Anna shrugged and ate another chocolate. By now, there weren’t many left, but at least this time no one would criticize her muffin top.

  “Anna! What are you doing?” Brendan bellowed, grabbing the box of chocolates and holding them against his chest, a horrified look on his face.

  “Bren! Give me my candy! NOW!”

  “Sorry, muffin top, no can do. I have strict instructions from your baby-daddy. I have to make sure that you don’t self-medicate on chocolate the way you did last time he went away. You may be eating for two, but in Nick’s absence, I’m in charge of your dietary, um, issues.”

  Anna glared at him, her nostrils flaring.

  “Give Me My Candy NOW.”

  “Um, Annie, you’re scaring me a little,” Brendan whined, rolling his desk chair away from her outstretched grabby hands as far as he could. “I can’t! I promised Nick!”