Chapter 24: Ten Fingers

Dominic came home at six that evening, as he did every evening.

He found me sitting on the bottom stair with the test in my hand.

He stopped in the doorway with his keys still in his fingers.

"Fiona?"

"I'm fine."

"You're sitting on the stairs."

"I'm sitting on the stairs on purpose."

I held up the little white stick.

He looked at it for a long time.

His face did something very slow.

"Is that," he said.

"Three weeks or more."

The keys hit the floor.

Dominic crossed the hall in two strides.

He sat down on the stair beside me, heavily.

His hand was shaking when he took mine.

"There's no tea in this house," he said.

"No."

"I mean, nobody's going to."

He stopped and tried again.

"Nobody is ever going to put a cup in your hand again. I'll taste every glass of water myself."

"That's a terrible plan."

"I know."

"I'd like to drink the water."

He laughed, and it cracked in the middle.

Then he put his forehead against my shoulder and held on to me with both arms.

"You told me you'd buried two," he said into my sweater.

"I did."

"I stood at the back of that church and made a promise."

"What promise?"

"That if I got one more day, I'd spend it on you."

"You gave me a house with a bad kitchen."

"I'll fix the kitchen."

"Leave the kitchen," I said, and kissed him.

In the morning Benny took one look at us, burst into tears and walked back out to the garage apartment.

He came back an hour later with a stuffed rabbit he had bought at a gas station.

Roisin's daughter was born on a Tuesday in February, in the rain.

I was twenty-three weeks along by then, with a belly that showed under any coat.

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