Twenty minutes in a long, looping circle, a normal jogger out for his paces, and I jumped back into my car to drive home. Most Americans living in London don’t have cars. You don’t need them.
I have one for security.
I headed up to our apartment off Charlotte Street, not far from the British Museum. I slipped inside, trying to be quiet, hoping that Lucy was still asleep.
She was up, drinking juice at the small kitchen table, frowning at an open laptop. She glanced at me.
“Good morning, monkey,” she said, putting her gaze back to the laptop. “Out making mischief?”
I’d forgotten to take off the hand coverings I wore to protect my palms on the parkour runs. I could hear the disappointment in her voice.
“Hi.”
“You didn’t fall off a building,” she said.
“No, Lucy.” I poured a glass of juice.
“What a relief. When you miss grabbing the edge of a wall and plummet to an untimely end, I can tell the baby you died getting your morning fix of crazy.”
“The walls aren’t high. I don’t take stupid chances.” Defensive.
“When I’m expecting, Sam, any chance is a stupid one.”
“Sorry. Mostly it was a normal jog.” I took off the palm protectors, stuffed them in my pocket. I went to the fridge and found a cold bottle of water. I took refuge in it, drinking slowly and steadily. Shower, coffee, then a long day at the office. The adrenaline rush was gone for the day.
“Sam?”
“Yeah?”
“I love you. I want you to know that.”
“I know that. I love you, too.” I turned from the refrigerator, looked at her. She was still studying her laptop, her hand perched on the soft fullness of her belly. The baby was seven months along, and I suppose, with the imminence of parenthood, Lucy and I were both more serious these days. Well, she was. I hadn’t yet been able to give up parkour runs, interspersed with my regular miles.
“I wonder if you might find a less dangerous hobby.”
“My job is more dangerous than my hobby.”
“Don’t joke,” she said. Now she looked at me. In her morning rumple, she was beautiful to me, brown hair with auburn highlights, serious brown eyes, a heart-shaped face with a full, red mouth. I loved her eyes the most. “I know you can do your job better than anyone. I’m scared you’ll take a stupid fall doing these runs. I don’t need you with a broken neck with a baby about to be born.”
“Okay. I’ll learn golf.”
She made a face that told me she didn’t take my promise seriously. But she said, “Thank you. Remember, tonight we have dinner with the Carstairs and the Johnsons.”
I smiled. They were her friends, not mine, but they were all nice people, and I knew our regular dinners out in London would become much rarer once the baby arrived. And maybe they knew a golf instructor. “Okay, I’ll be home by five, then.”
“We’re meeting them at six at the tapas bar in Shoreditch. Do you have a big morning?”
“A PowerPoint-heavy one,” I said. “Briefings all day with Brandon and the suits from back home.” I looked at her as she stood to stretch, her hands on the swell of her belly. “But I could cancel. Go to the doctor’s with you.”
“No.”
“Save me from the PowerPoint. Let me go with you and The Bundle.” We kept skirting the discussion of names, so I’d given our imminent child a pseudonym.
“The Bundle.” She patted the top of her swell.
“Actually, I may have to meet you at the restaurant. I might have to go drink a quick pint with the suits after the meetings.”
She laughed and smiled and said, “Oh, such a tough job you have.”
I thought, thank God I don’t have my parents’ marriage. Lucy and I didn’t fight, didn’t glare, didn’t inflict long, painful silences.
“Go and bar-hop without your pregnant wife.” She smiled and closed her laptop. “But not quite yet.”
She came to me and slid her hands up my back. Pregnant women are full of surprises; it’s like living with a breeze that can’t settle on its direction. I loved it. She kissed me with a surprising hunger, almost a ferocity, her belly big between us.
“I’m hot and sweaty and gross,” I said. “I’m a yucky husband.”
“Yes,” she said. “Yes, you are, monkey. And I’m enormous.”
“Yes,” I said. “Yes, you are.” And I kissed her.
When we were done, the sweetest start to that final day, I made us a breakfast of toast, coffee, and juice, then showered, dressed, and