If you can.
The meal Lena ordered for them turned out to be a feast. Saul’s Caravan set a lavish table, and not just in terms of the food. Lena discovered that fine china did not have to match when each piece was exquisite. She discovered that solid silver water pitchers and solid silver serving trays were mighty heavy, and that meze dishes were only the precursor to the main meal and that maybe she shouldn’t have tried a little bit of everything, because when the spicy lamb dish arrived, Lena had barely any room left in her stomach.
‘How much did you order?’ Trig had partaken heartily of the meze too.
‘I ordered the traditional feast for two, and Aylin mentioned something about five courses.’ They’d started with dips and bread and then moved on to the meze. ‘I’m thinking we’re up to course three and I’m pretty sure the last course involves coffee.’
Lena served a small portion of the lamb onto her heavily patterned blue and white plate and avoided the rice altogether. She indicated that she would serve Trig too, and he held out his plate while she spooned lamb onto it. ‘Enough?’
‘Thanks.’
He’d been on his best gentlemanly behaviour all evening. Keeping her wine glass topped up, saying he liked the dress and ignoring the fact that she wasn’t wearing any shoes and that her hair was still half damp from her swim and the shower she’d taken afterwards.
She’d made some effort—she had make-up and perfume on. Trig had made an effort too, for he’d dug a white collared shirt out of his bag and had it ironed before putting it on over jeans.
He’d never blended into the background easily, Trig Sinclair. His size had always made people look twice and the reckless glint in his eyes had usually kept their attention. Put him and Jared together, turn them loose on a party or a bar and chaos ensued. Women wanted to bed them, men wanted to challenge them and Lena often wanted to knock their heads together and tell them to grow up.
Looking at Trig tonight, his face smiling but his eyes guarded, Lena thought that maybe he had grown up. And that Lena had somehow missed it.
‘Five things you never wanted to be,’ she said. It was an old game, this one. A way of filling in conversation and acquiring information that you might not already know.
‘Conflicted,’ he said.
‘About what?’
‘You. Your past and my part in it. I always assumed that by letting you tag along with us whenever we went windsurfing or hang-gliding or whatever fool adrenaline rush we were on that week, that Jared and I were giving you options. It never occurred to me that we were limiting them. You followed us into covert operations without even thinking about the consequences. None of us did, but you’re the one who got busted up. That weighs on me a lot.’
‘Where’s this coming from?’
‘I spoke to Damon earlier. We talked about you. About your limitations.’
‘Thanks for nothing.’
‘Ruby’s pregnant.’
‘Oh.’ She refused to feel envy. She refused to feel longing. Those emotions had no place in the presence of Ruby’s good news. ‘That’s good, isn’t it? I get to be an auntie. Ruby gets to buy headbands for a baby. You can’t tell me you’re not looking forward to that.’
Trig’s eyes warmed ever so slightly. ‘Maybe. And it’s babies. Plural. She’s having twins.’
‘Seriously?’ Lena laughed. ‘That is awesome. You think they’d let us borrow them?’
‘I want children, Lena.’
Lena’s laughter stuck in her throat. They hadn’t talked about this; she knew it instinctively. Why hadn’t they ever talked about this?
‘No can do. I do know my limitations in that regard. You’ll get no biological children from me.’
‘We could adopt,’ her husband said gruffly.
‘We could.’ That was one option. ‘Or you could have a biological child with someone else. We could explore surrogacy.’
‘You’d consider that?’
‘You might have to get me a good shrink, but, yes. I could get on board with that. Could you?’
‘I’d probably have to share your shrink for a while.’
‘I could probably be your shrink for a while. These past couple of years I’ve become intimately acquainted with helplessness, hopelessness, anger, envy and old-fashioned irrational behaviour. I can show you round.’
Trig smiled at that and she reached forward and covered his hand with her own. ‘Don’t give up on me.’
‘Never.’
This was why she’d married this man.
‘I feel as if I’m in a place where I don’t have to run to keep up any more,’ she confessed. ‘I can’t run any more. Best I can do is hold my ground and stumble along, and you know what? You’re still there for me, and my family is still there, because it was never about me keeping up. It was about me believing that I belonged and I do believe that now. I’m happy now. I married you, which I have to say is probably the smartest thing I’ve ever done.’
‘About that...’ His gaze flickered to the bed.
‘Yes, about that. No pressure.’
‘Right,’ said Trig faintly and Lena smiled and cut him a break.
‘How’s your food?’
‘Good.’ Trig loaded up his fork and looked at it as if he couldn’t quite remember where it should go.
Lena smiled and took a quick bite of the fragrant lamb stew. Tasty.
‘Forget the bed,’ she said, although she hadn’t. ‘We still have several more courses to get through, and dancing still to go. I have my dancing frock on and everything.’
‘But no shoes.’
‘I don’t need shoes. You’re not wearing any either,’ she felt obliged to point out.
‘There’s no music.’
‘I found some pianola rolls. I put one in. Want to see if it plays?’
‘You love this room,’ he said with a crooked smile as she rose from the table, caught hold of his hand and tugged him towards the pianola.
‘I really do. It’s a little bit beautiful, a whole lot fascinating, and kind of cracked when you look up close. I’m hoping it might be the way you see me. Because, newfound sense of belonging or not, I’m still trying to figure out what you see in me.’
She fiddled with the pianola settings and the machine began to play a bright and jazzy tune that put her in mind of Gershwin and New York.
‘I should have packed the red lampshade dress.’
‘Or you could sit this one out.’
‘Good idea.’ She reached for another of the scrolls crammed into the shelving beside the pianola. ‘Hey, I remember this one from my mother’s jewellery box! Open the lid and music played and the little ballerina went round and round and round.’
‘I don’t want to go round and round,’ said Trig.
She pulled out another roll. ‘ABBA?’
‘Don’t make me shoot you.’
‘You do realise you’re not going to be able to threaten our children or our nephews