Dane flicked idly through the pictures on his phone, his Instagram account was filled with new shots from London, from Fox's little house. Shots taken by Boyd of Sarah and her friends, their friends, putting together the cot she'd bought and he'd paid for. The cot he'd hoped to build for his child after he won a Bafta and then came home and made love to his baby mama (as the Americans said).
In the end he'd only won the award.
And somehow he felt like he'd missed the major prize.
Like he was still missing it.
Instead there had been disaster, near fatalities and change.
His account documented that change.
Pictures of Fox, Boyd, and Dmitri, of his tiny niece Emerald Huntington – still in hospital but looking more like a baby than a skinned rabbit now. Her tired mother holding her still in hospital too but at least not as enveloped by technology as they had both been the last time he'd seen them. There were pictures of Petra's insanely pink baby shower with Fox and Dmitri looking like lunatics hanging out together. It looked like fun but there was sadness in her eyes, not that other people would notice, but he did, of course, he did. He knew all her looks. Fox was a guest when she should have been a guest of honour, had her own family there – his mum helping to run things in lieu of her aunt or mother. But then that wouldn't have been very appropriate in the circumstances he supposed.
It didn't seem fair, though at least she'd had the "impromptu pizza and cot-making extravaganza" as Boyd had labeled it on Instagram.
Dane continued to flick through the pictures, what had been happening over the past few weeks in the world outside this film shoot as documented by Instagram. This was his private account, not the account he'd set up for the world to see but the one he'd had for a few years. This was the one where he could keep in touch with what was going on with his friends and family, with the real world while he was out in the unreal world of movies and television.
He came back to the cot photos again.
She looked so happy.
And so big.
Bean was eight months, it wouldn't be long now and the baby he and Fox had made would be in the world.
He wished he was there, with them, but what good would that do especially now?
He'd talked to Boyd, he and Dmitri wanted the baby but they were still looking for a surrogate and they would understand if they couldn't have Bean. His baby.
It was weird, he'd asked Boyd to watch over them for him, visit her at the hospital and report back because he didn't want to draw attention to the situation, to their relationship. Dane had trusted him with Fox, with his girl.
He and Sarah had a few mutual friends –, particularly in acting circles. There were single males that they both knew through their Shakespeare connection that could have been there for her, but he had chosen Boyd because he and Dmitri were two of their oldest friends and were gay. Sarah was a beautiful, intoxicating woman, he wanted to know someone was there for her while Neville was tending to his own family but he didn't want anyone who would be a threat. He couldn't have her but he didn't want anyone else to have her.
And now he might lose his baby to them.
Not that he blamed Dmitri and Boyd or thought they'd planned this, no this was all Fox, she had suggested it, thought of it and now she was organising it. Whether everyone wanted it or not.
But it was the best thing.
The logical thing.
He and Sarah were friends, best friends, occasionally lovers and for one brief moment, a couple, but he was too selfish for that to last and so was she – she was right.
It WAS logical, it DID make sense, then WHY did it hurt? Hurt to see her with their friends. He knew he'd never be frozen out, he'd see the child if Dmitri and Boyd adopted the baby.
But it didn't feel right.
Maybe he was still being selfish. He was on the road to having what he wanted from his career and now he wanted everything else? Other people had that – it was possible, wasn't it?
Being part of the awards season, even if he didn't win the Oscar or Golden Globe, had opened doors. He wasn't getting a lot of offers BUT the offers he was getting weren't second or third hand anymore. Movie makers were coming straight to him now not waiting for the Cumberbatches or Fassbender's of this world to turn the project down first. He was finally heading where he wanted to be, then why, as he looked at Dehlia and Sarah putting the cot together, did it all feel a bit hollow.
A bit like he was missing the point.
Left out.
He wondered how Sarah was coping with her broken arm and her work and guilt swept through him that he wasn't there to help. Not that she'd let him he supposed - he knew. She'd be really ramping up to the anniversary events now. Insanely pregnant and insanely busy but it was nothing his Fox couldn't handle. She had grown into an amazing woman – who was he kidding she'd always been that way. The least organised but most capable person he knew.
He wondered if she thought of him, missed him. Knew she loved him, knew what she was doing was for him more than anyone; him and because of her own insecurities.
He wondered if Bean was still kicking like crazy, like the Rugby player his father had wanted.
His father – god what would he think? His mother? Sisters? Would they think he was a selfish failure who'd put work before his child?
Or would they see the sacrifice he was making?
Was it a good sign that she hadn't told the family yet? A sign that she wouldn't go through with it? But then it was the right thing to do, wasn't it? Dmitri and Boyd could give the baby two stable parents, two parents who desperately wanted to be parents.
He wanted a family but he wasn't quite sure he was ready.
He wanted Fox but it didn't work.
He touched his finger to the screen followed the contours of her face, the curve of her breasts, the expanse of her stomach. The woman he loved was having his child, carrying his baby and for the third time in the pregnancy he was away on set and that wasn't fair to either her or the baby.
Sure she was an independent woman and got on with her life when he wasn't there, she didn't need him but did she want him?
He didn't need her either – not really.
But he wanted her, loved her.
He'd told Boyd he thought he and Dmitri would be amazing parents, better than he could be and he meant it.
But it didn't mean he wanted it, not really.
He just didn't want to lose Sarah from his life, he couldn't bare that.
Maybe he did need her after all.
She wasn't like any of the "girlfriends" he'd had, that he'd thought he was in love with. Losing them would hurt, losing Fox would kill him.
With the complication of the baby out of their lives on a day-to-day basis, they could go back to being friends, him and Fox, aunty and uncle, godparents to a baby that they made in a drunken moment.
But that had to start now, didn't it? Twice before he'd cut himself off from her because he didn't want to wreck their friendship and almost had. This time it had to be normal, didn't it? He had to show her that they were friends.
He clicked on the picture of her with the screw in her mouth and a screwdriver in her hand, she was side on and you could see just how big she was. It was amazing and he found it more sexually alluring than he probably should. Swollen up with his child the determined look on her face, pure Fox – it would be sad to bring himself off to that image, wouldn't it? And yet that was sexier than the tight costume that his co-star for this movie had been poured into today. The woman had an amazing body but he looked at Fox like that and he felt a swell of pride and of cock.
But they couldn't work as a family, could they?
Their friendship had to come first? Yes?
Yes.
Keep the lines of communications open.
Talk to his friend like she wasn't pregnant with his baby. Talk to his friend like she was his friend, his best friend. He missed his best friend AGAIN and he didn't want to be angry with her, angry that she didn't want him. He couldn't could he? What could he offer a woman and child? Even the woman he loved? The child he'd never met couldn't wait to meet, loved already if he was honest, but was not going to not be able to be a dad to.
Oh god, he hated this and he was going round in circles again, just like New Zealand and Europe. When he was away from her and it was a mess, the moment he was with her it made sense. They made sense, the world made sense.
He had to stop this. Dane Thomas Hilditch had to be a man and stand up for what he wanted and he wanted her, in his life in whatever form now whatever form.
So he'd keep the lines of communications open. He couldn't push her, he couldn't she wouldn't react well. He'd just try and act like his world wasn't turned upside down.
"Wow you're looking swell!" he commented on the picture in front of him. Well, Thomas Danes did, not the most original moniker but no one had tumbled to it yet.
He liked all the pictures – added a "did you save a piece for me?" on the pizza shot and then he texts her just to say hi, just to check that she was okay. He hoped she was okay because he didn't feel okay. Not even close. He felt lost and rudderless and the movie was going over time, it would be a six-week shoot which meant he wouldn't be home for three more weeks. Home in time to work on his piece for the Shakespeare Spectacular. Home in time for the birth, not that it felt appropriate really. But whatever happened, if she'd let him he'd be there, he'd be there for the birth and to hold her afterward when they handed their child to someone else.
He'd do what he had to do.