Dane didn't want to leave. How could he? How could he leave her, them. Sarah on the other hand couldn't wait for him to go.
She was blissfully happy, loved up and content and it scared her to death.
All the time they were together she was waiting for him to leave, to realise his mistake and break her into a thousand pieces. Because it would and he would, it would have before, it almost did, but now.............playing happy families with him like this. She knew she was in trouble. It wasn't that she needed a man to make her complete, it had never been like that with Dane, he just was part of her life, etched into, grafted on. But there had always been a little bit she had held back from him – her safety net. It was gone now and it terrified her. And not just because she liked to sabotage her own happiness, Tom's commitment record wasn't exactly something to write home about. They were doomed.
She knew it.
But she couldn't help it.
Somewhere along the way she'd bought into – having it all. Or she was just horny.
She was voting horny.
Because the reality wasn't worth thinking about.
Years of counseling over her – get those fingers ready for the air quotes .......... "abandonment issues" had been pretty successful – except when it came to Dane. He was and probably had been since she was a young teen, one of the most important people in her world. Sure she had Neville and Athena as constants as well and Margaret and her various children, she had friends, her uncle and even, and sometimes especially Malcolm Hilditch. She probably had a better relationship with the older Hilditch than most of his own children. The fact that Dane and Malcolm were as close as they were was down to Sarah acting as a go-between, keeping the lines of communication open.
In fact, it had been Malcolm that she had almost chosen to tell when she was so lost and was telling no-one – though how do you tell your best friend's dad that you're having his son's baby? It turns out quite easily in the end.
It had happened now – the second Hilditch/Huntington Christmas had been the day after boxing day – not as elaborate but almost as noisy as the first – this time at Malcolm's house in London.
Lizzy, Jane, Lydia, Dane and their partners and children, Malcom's wife Deborah and their daughter Amelie and her boyfriend. While Dane and Sarah had faced Margaret and the family, dishevelled and looking for all the world like they'd just had the sex that some of them no-doubt heard (and Margaret had started dropping hints almost immediately about weddings and all the shit Sarah avoided like the plague), they arrived at Malcolm's house looking neat and tidy.
Two hours late.
Looking suspiciously rosy-cheeked and flushed like they'd spent a lot more time removing clothing rather than unpacking it. After a Christmas and Boxing day crammed together in a house with their nearest, dearest, noisiest and nosiest, they'd relished the freedom of her house, her table, her lounge – her bed.
But they had commitments and they had to tell his father.
They were met by Malcolm when they arrived. Dane with a bag of presents over his arm and Sarah carrying a Christmas cake in her arms that Hilditch senior grabbed as he ushered them inside.
As soon as the door closed behind them, they sought each other's hands, needing to touch, like they hadn't in hours, stupid school boy/girl stuff. Surging hormones.
"Like that then is it?" Malcolm asked chuckling as he followed them down the hall.
"Um we've been meaning to well," Dane started as they slowed down to allow Mal to catch up to them.
He laughed.
"You've been meaning to tell me that I'm about to have my first little Hilditch grandchild and it's a bloody Huntington!" Malcolm said clapping his quickly reddening son on the back with his free hand.
"Yep your son knocked me up," Sarah said, mainly to see just how red Dane could get (an old game). Turns out traffic lights still had nothing on an embarrassed Dane Thomas Hilditch.
Malcolm laughed heartily.
"Well it's about bloody time," he chortled.
"You know most fathers might be upset that their son's had impregnated a woman out of wedlock," Dane blustered.
"Yes, but most father's don't know Sarah or you for that matter – only way you two were ever going to see sense was if you fucked up and got pregnant. As soon as I knew about this little one I hoped it was one of ours. I'm just glad I was right."
Sarah shook her head and rolled her eyes not knowing whether to snigger or treating it seriously. She respected Malcolm, loved him, she had been worried that he'd be more disappointed. More worried about him than Margaret even.
"You're really okay with this Malcolm?" she asked seriously as they neared the end of the hall and they prepared to enter the mad house that was his formal dining room (crammed to the rafters with family).
"Sarah," he said matching her tone. "You have and will always be part of this family whatever happens between you and this knucklehead, and I'm just glad he was smart enough to make me a grandson and you were silly enough to let him."
"It might be a girl," she laughed. "Hilditch's and Huntington's make a lot of those."
"Doesn't matter – she'll still play rugby for Scotland."
"And that's all that really matters," Dane sighed as they were greeted by sniggers and woof-whistles from the rest of the family.
It had been another pleasant day – family and fun. More presents for the little one. She wasn't sure she was comfortable with that yet, sure she was close to five months and therefore with everyday, it became more and more likely that the little one would make it to term, actually make it into the world. But it still worried her, hung over her head – you can't lose people in your life – major people and not be a little paranoid. She was trying not to count her chicken before it hatched. But she also liked to be prepared and so far the family had been subdued. Well other than Dane – that teddybear he'd brought from Paris was expensive and exquisite and totally over-the-top compared to the little singlets, socks, and bibs, from everyone else. But then he was allowed, wasn't he?
He was the dad.
She worried though that it was all about the baby. As Malcolm had said they wouldn't have become whatever it was they were now without it. What happened if the unspeakable happened? She was building a world with him albeit a secret world but still.
They were worries in the back of her head, that came out in the early morning.
Not that she thought too much over those days between Boxing Day and the second of January.
No that was a time of action not thinking – weird for two people who over thought everything. They had been about sex and togetherness and more sex.
They couldn't keep their hands off each other and had christened most of the surfaces in Sarah's house.
It was a nesting period, mainly at her place, avoiding any Paps that might not have gone home for the holidays.
They'd been like rabbits since they got back from Margaret's making up for lost time and for the time to come.
They used to separation.
Sarah craved it now, overwhelmed by how nice it had been, how overwhelming and how normal. She'd never been or done normal in her chaotic life.
Dane didn't want to leave, he hadn't felt so content either but his worry was that if he left he wouldn't feel it again.
What if it all fizzled when he got back on set? What if his work overwhelmed him and he forgot them? What if he left her he lost this feeling? He'd had relationships die like this before. He couldn't lose Bean and Fox.
On the last night, the night after spending New Years with good friends, new parents themselves – holding their baby, watching them interact with the child, watching Fox awkwardly hold it, on that last night their lovemaking had been different.
They'd undressed each other in the dark, slowly sensuously, touching, remembering. Body Braille even though they already knew every inch. He'd moved his hands across her pregnant belly so softly, so gently, remembering it now – knowing next time it would be so much bigger, Bean would be so much bigger. He kissed her deeply, worshiped her, loved her. No frantic coupling, lovemaking, lovemaking like the morning they'd made Bean, though his time from behind, missionary becoming more and more impossible. Watching themselves in the mirror by her bed, watching himself enter her, watching her pregnant belly swaying, watching her beautiful face as he moved in her in the soft moonlight. Her soft moans – nothing like the lewd brilliantly disgusting sounds of the past week – breathy and beautiful. His words soft and loving.
And in the after glow, they lay, content and happy, too happy for them. But both were trying not to analyze it, both knowing they would the moment they were apart again. Right now they were trying, for their different reasons, to be right in the moment.
"You know I love you right?" he said languidly as he held her in his arm, fingers tracing the skin on her arm.
"Well you do keep telling me," she said with less snark than usual.
"I bought you something but I was frightened to give it to you – it's not an engagement ring or a promise, I don't know what it is. You are giving me the most precious gift in the world, I wanted to give you something in return," he said full of emotion, for once not holding it back in case he scared the shit out of her and himself.
"Baby's mine too," she sighed. "But if you want to buy me a big arsed emerald then I'm not going to stop you," she laughed softly.
"You found it didn't you?" he said disappointedly and she sat up then and looked at him.
"What the hell?"
He laughed, suddenly, relieved she had only been calling his bluff.
He reached over into the drawers that they now considered "his". If he'd been thinking with more than his penis over the past week he'd have tried to convince her to move into his place, a family home that needed a family, but his cock had been in charge and just as well really – he wasn't about to do anything to spook her. He wondered if giving her this would do that? He had originally thought of giving her it at Christmas but Margaret and her sisters had been bad enough dropping hints about weddings. Only his father had been smart enough, knew Fox well enough, not to push the issue.
Did this though?
He played it cool and dropped the small box in her lap rather than handing it to her or making any flowery speeches that would land him in hot water.
"Here – I thought you'd like it – wear it on your right hand if you want and yes I did buy it in Paris but no Sabine wasn't involved in picking it out."
She picked up the delicate red velvet box and ran her fingers over it reverently almost scared to open it, to see the contents.
He sat next to her, watching her face.
Watching her reaction, his heart in his mouth. Maybe he should have left it. Left it for when Bean was born or given it to her romantically on Valentines Day, yeah maybe not.
Gently she undid the antique clasp and pulled up the lid.
Inside was an emerald ring set in rose gold and surrounded by seed pearls. It looked like something out of Shakespeare's time and was so Sarah it wasn't funny. He'd gone into the store with Sabine to buy a locket for her but this had caught his eye. Sabine had rolled her eyes that her friend was getting sappy in his old age. He'd laughed, how did he not see how similar in personality Sarah and Sabine were?
He'd gone looking for the perfect woman and Fox had been his paradigm.
Her mouth formed an O and were those tears? Shit those were tears. Who knew she could do that?
"So it's okay?" he said teasingly.
He expected an eye roll but he didn't get it, instead, she just nodded slowly and took it out of the box, placing it on her right-hand ring finger where it glowed in the moonlight of her bedroom.
"You know this doesn't mean I'm going to marry you or something stupid right?" she said as she moved her hand to catch the ring in the moonlight.
"Yeah but it does mean you love me right?" he asked hopefully.
"Yes dear!" she teased caught up in the moment.