Samantha Young - Fall From India Place

He threw me a crooked grin and started walking toward his kitchen. I followed him, raising my eyebrow at the sheet of paper that had been pinned to his hallway wall. It had the words TOMATOES ARE NOT A FRUIT printed across it.

“I thought tomatoes were a fruit.”

“What?” Cole glanced back at me, saw me pointing to the homemade “poster,” and shook his head in despair. “Don’t even ask. Bigsie is on his own wee planet.”

“I don’t understand why he feels strongly enough about tomatoes to print a poster about it.”

“And pin it to our wall. There goes a percentage of our deposit.”

“Cole, you need to get a new roommate, or a new flat.”

“Rent’s cheap.” He shrugged. “Starving artist/poor student and all that.”

Right. Some of us didn’t have a wealthy brother and sister to buy us a flat. I felt a pang of guilt that I didn’t have to struggle like so many people my age.

Cole’s eyes narrowed on me as he pulled a couple of mugs out of one of the dingy cupboards in his dingy kitchen. “What’s with the guilty expression?”

“Nothing’s with it. I’m just a bit of mess right now.”

His features softened with understanding. “If you need to —”

I didn’t know what Cole was going to say and I never would because at that exact moment we both got a text message from Liv.

Jo’s gone into labor!

We both looked up from our phones, eyes widened, and I knew Cole’s was the same message because he whispered, “Fuck.”

He flew into action. In less than a minute he’d thrown on his boots and coat, grabbed his keys, grabbed my hand, and hauled me out of his flat. We got into his little rust bucket of a Fiat, which was older than Beth, and hurtled toward the hospital.

Nine hours later, Jo gave birth to Annabelle Walker MacCabe, a gorgeous seven-pound baby girl. The entire time I sat in the waiting room with my family, my mind was on Jo and Cam and their new family. When I met Annabelle, or Belle, as we were already calling her, she was all I could think about, and when I kissed an exhausted Jo good night, hugged my family, and returned home to my flat to get some rest, my mind was still on them all.

There was a whisper in the back of my thoughts, a whisper too loud to ignore, that wished Marco had been there to enjoy the moment, to be a part of my family. He’d missed Ellie giving birth to Bray and now Jo to Belle.

There was a part of me that didn’t think that felt right.

That part scared the hell out of me.

A little under a week later I was heading out of my flat. It was a Saturday, the ground icy where the snowfall of the past few days had melted with the rain and then frozen over with the newly falling temperatures. I sidestepped a large patch of ice on my porch and started to make my way down the steps.

I was excited to be spending the day with Jo, Ellie, Belle, and Bray and had a bag filled with goodies for both children and mothers.

“Hannah Nichols?”

I glanced up at the question, stopping on the last step of the front stoop to stare at the pretty brunette who stood a few feet from me on the pavement.

My eyes washed over her, wondering why she looked so familiar. “Yes?”

The young woman took a few steps forward, seeming anxious, and that’s when I remembered where I’d seen her: the photograph of Marco and his son at the German Market. The pretty brunette at his side. Leah. The mother of his son.

My heart suddenly took off at a gallop.

“I’m Leah McKinley. I’m Dylan’s mum.”

Eyeing her warily, I replied, “I know who you are.”

She stared at me. “You’re just like he described.”

I frowned in response. “What are you doing here?”

Her expression tightened. “I’m here because I care about Marco. And Marco’s a mess right now.”

I couldn’t ignore the guilt and pain that knowledge caused me. Since we’d last spoken on the phone, Marco had given me time. But he’d been honest when he said he’d give me time but not a lot of it. When five days passed and I didn’t contact him, he called me. Having already told him I needed space, I didn’t answer.

I didn’t answer when he called me three times after that.

I couldn’t answer, because my fear had made up my mind for me about us, and I didn’t know how to tell him.

“Look, he didn’t go into the details, but he explained that something bad happened to you years ago when he left and now he’s blaming himself.” She crossed her arms over her chest, appearing annoyed. “I knew Marco at school. Not well. But I knew him. I knew he was quiet and seemed a bit pissed off with the world. I watched him change when he became a dad. He got, I don’t know, like, sure of himself. And happy. Yet, still, I’ve never seen him as happy as he was when he was seeing you.” She squinted against the winter sun. “He told me all about you, you know. Before. When I was pregnant with Dylan we became good friends and he talked about you. I was even a wee bit jealous of the way he saw you – like you were so much better than every other girl on the planet. I told him countless times that he was good enough for anyone, that he should try to get in touch with you again, but he wouldn’t do it. That really fucked me off – that he thought he wasn’t good enough. Now I’m even more pissed off because with you not forgiving him or giving him the time of day, it makes him think he is to blame for whatever shit went down with you. He’s back to thinking he’s not good enough. I know him. I know he would never hurt anyone deliberately, so I know whatever happened to you isn’t his fault. It would be nice if you’d let him know that, too.”

Feeling cornered, remorseful, and pissed off that I’d been made to feel guilty by someone I didn’t know, I gave her a look that told her I wouldn’t be cowed. “I’m not sure any of this is your business.”

Her face grew hard. “Marco isn’t just my son’s dad, he’s my friend. He’s a good guy and I don’t like anyone hurting him.”

“Does he know you’re here right now?”

“No.” She huffed. “And he’ll probably be really pissed off when I tell him I came to see you. But if it gives you a kick up the arse to do the right thing, then I’m okay with that.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Maybe not. But we both know Marco is a good person. He doesn’t deserve to be feeling the way he’s feeling.” She shrugged, shot me one last searching look, and said, “You think on that.”

My visit with Bray, Belle, and their mums was somewhat poisoned by Leah’s decision to try to force my hand in the situation with Marco.

I spent most of the day worrying about him, until I came to the conclusion I needed to stop being such a coward and call him.

There was no game playing on his part. He picked up on the second ring.

“You know how to keep a guy hanging,” he answered quietly.

“I’m just calling to tell you I want you to stop blaming yourself. I don’t blame you for what happened to me.”

“Easier said than done, Hannah. There’s a reason you broke up with me when you found out about Dylan. You said yourself that at least a part of you blames me for leaving you to deal with all that shit by yourself.”

“Honestly,” I whispered, “I did. I know that it wasn’t right, though, and I’ve worked through that. I know that what happened to me wasn’t your fault. What happened to me wasn’t anyone’s fault. We were both at fault for being irresponsible and not using protection, that’s all.”

“No. That was my fault. I was the experienced one. But it was you… and in that moment I was too lost in you to think straight.”

“Was that the way it was with Leah?” I asked caustically.

“Hannah, it wasn’t like that with her. We were both shit-faced. It’s a miracle we had enough faculties about us to get undressed and have sex, if —”

“Okay, I don’t want to hear any more,” I interrupted.

He was silent for a while and then… “It’s about Leah, isn’t it?”

“No,” I answered, and then sighed. “I don’t know.”

“Hannah, I care about Leah. She’s my friend and she’s the mother of my kid. But I love you.”

“Should it be this hard, though, Marco?” I asked. “Should it hurt this much?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know what the rules are. All I know is that it means something pretty fucking important to feel this way about someone. I’d do anything for my son, Hannah. I’d do anything to protect him. To make sure he knows he’s loved. That he makes my universe turn. And I feel that way about you too. I want to protect you, I want you to know that for me there’s no one else like you. That you make my universe turn.”

My heart actually hurt in my chest.

“Hannah?”

“If it was up to how I feel when it’s just us and the world is quiet and everything seems so far away,” I told him softly, “we’d be together. I’d put it all behind me and we’d move on. But life isn’t like that. The rest of the world never goes away. Our mistakes are out there and we can’t hide from them. I don’t want to mess you around and it’s not my intention to hurt you” – my voice cracked – “but I just don’t think this is what I want anymore.”

“You don’t love me?” His voice was gruff, the way he sounded whenever he was feeling something deeply.

I hated that I was hurting him. “Marco, I’ve been in love with you since I was fourteen. And it’s hurt for eight years. I’m just not sure that’s the right kind of love.”

“I didn’t know there was a right or a wrong kind,” he whispered hoarsely.

“Perhaps not. But maybe I need a shot at an easy kind.”

“Or maybe you just need to give us a shot with all this shit out in the open,” he argued. “Hannah, when we were kids I was messed up. I didn’t give us a chance. But those two months we had before Christmas were the best fucking weeks of my life, and they would have been perfect if we’d just been honest about everything. Now all that is out there, and we can start over. It can be great. It can be easy.”

I wanted to believe that, but I was too scared. I wasn’t even going to lie to myself about it. I was terrified.

Marco could hurt me like no one else could because I loved him with everything I had. I’d allowed his mistakes, our mistakes, to bend me. However, I couldn’t let us break me.

Wiping the tears from my face with trembling hands, I prepared myself to finally make a decision.

“Hannah?”

“Marco…” My voice came out as a whisper and I had to clear my throat to get the volume back. “Because of you I’ve never given anyone a chance. If you want the whole and absolute truth, there’s never been anyone since you. I lied when you asked me when the last time I had sex was. I’ve only ever been with one man and that man is you.”

“Hannah —”

“It’s time I gave myself a chance to fall in love with someone else.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“I do. We’re not good for each other. You need to move on.”

“No,” he growled down the phone in a surprising and yet not so surprising response. “You’re mine. I’m yours. Don’t you dare run from that.”

“I’m not running.” More lies. “I just need a fresh start.”

“Hannah, I love you.”

“Please don’t… don’t make this harder than it already is.”

“No. Don’t give me bullshit clichés. I need to see you. We can’t do this over the phone. We can talk and we can work it out.”

Terrified at that thought because I knew that just seeing him would weaken my resolve, I hurried to deny him. “I don’t want to see you. I’m moving on, Marco, and I need you to do the same for me. Do this for me.”

I could hear that his breathing had grown shallow. “I can’t. It might be the most selfish thing I’ll ever do, but I can’t give you up. I won’t. If I thought it was what you really wanted, really needed, I would. But it’s not. You’re scared. I know you’re scared. I’m going to do everything I can to take that fear away.”

“Stop being a stubborn idiot!” I snapped, feeling desperate.

“Pot, meet kettle,” he answered, his voice edged with determination. “We’ll see which one of us can be the most obstinate, Hannah, because, babe, I’m never giving up on us. If it takes a week, a month, a year, whatever, the future is us. I’m spending the rest of my life waking up in the morning with you beside me and getting through each day knowing that when the sky turns dark I’ll be spending the night inside you.”

His sensual, beautiful words knocked me for six. “You are such a bastard,” I breathed.