|32| Ziti-2

"Isobel, you never need an excuse to see us," Dad said as he poured the wine. "Of course she doesn't," Mum said, "but she's spending a year away from her boyfriend. It'd have to be a decent excuse for wasting any time with him." "Mum, please. It's not like I'm choosing Nathan over you." Her eyes widened and I watched the panic set in, immediately feeling guilty that my tone had caused her to misunderstand. "I wasn't suggesting that, love. But Nathan should be your priority. Relationships take work. Especially long distance." "And you two have definitely made it work," Dad said, addressing Nathan rather than continuing to talk about him as if he weren't sat at the table with us. "You're like the poster couple of long-distance relationships." I withheld my snort. We were hardly a shining example of what a long-distance relationship should look like, but Dad didn't know that. I hadn't exactly shouted from the rooftops about Nathan wrapping his arms around a different brunette. "I guess we've made it work, haven't we, Bella?" Nathan said, shooting me a reassuring smile. No doubt he could tell where my thoughts had strayed. "I guess we have." "Well your father and I never had any doubts that you'd make it work," Mum said. "Sometimes you can just tell when two people are meant to be together." "Like you and Dad," I said with a smile. "And a great story to tell your own kids," she added, with a total lack of subtlety. Nathan bent his head and smiled towards his plate, saying nothing. My dad, on the other hand, shut down the conversation promptly. "Less talk of kids, thank you. I'm still coming to terms with the fact you're old enough to be in university, never mind ready to be a parent." "Don't worry, Dad. I think I'll concentrate on graduating first." Mum smiled and held up her hands in surrender, but as we all continued eating, I noticed her eyes drift towards my Mother's Day card stood on the mantelpiece. * "I think I actually saw your dad's blood pressure shooting up when kids were mentioned." I laughed as I buckled my seatbelt. "Yeah, that would've stolen Mum's thunder, huh?" Backing out of the driveway, Nathan shook his head. "Nah, I think it would have made her Mother's Day if anything." We drove in near silence for most of the journey back, occasionally singing along to a song on the radio or commenting on other drivers' dodgy manoeuvres. As we stopped at a set of traffic lights ten minutes away from our flat, Nathan spoke up. "Despite the jokes, you know there's no pressure with us having children, right? Even though we've spoken about it very casually in the past, I get that a lot has happened this year and we need to concentrate on ourselves before kids..." "It's fine, Nathan. I've never had a set age in mind, but there are definitely things I want to do as a couple first before kids become our priority." I shot him a smile, which he easily returned. "Likewise." "But you'll make a great dad. I've always thought that. Nothing that's happened this year has changed that." Nathan shifted into gear and pulled off when the lights turned green. Although his eyes flickered from one potential hazard to the next as we drove along, I could tell he had something else occupying his mind, too. "As long as you still want that," I added, in case he was the one having second thoughts. "Hm?" He glanced across at me briefly before his eyes returned to the road. "Kids?" "Oh, right. Yeah, of course I do." "You looked concerned about something for a while there," I said with a smile. "And it's not just my decision." He smiled and moved his hand from the gearstick to my thigh, squeezing gently. "It's not that. Don't worry. I was actually thinking about how much my attitude towards everything has changed over the past five years. Thanks to you." "You did that yourself, Nathan. It's nothing to do with me." "Maybe nothing to do with you for that first year I was in Italy," he said, "but everything to do with you once we met. You made me want to be a better person. You never asked me to change. I changed because I wanted to be good enough for you—" "Come on, Nathan, we've had this conversation—" "Just let me finish, okay?" He winked at me to neutralise the tension. "Humour me." I smiled and folded my arms. "Fine. I'm humouring you." "I'm not saying you fixed me or anything dramatic like that. I'm just saying that I saw something in you that made me want to try to stay on the right track. And it got to a point where I didn't have to try anymore. Because I stopped seeing drugs and girls when I imagined my life ten years down the line, and I started seeing you." We'd had similar conversations plenty of times in the past, but he'd never phrased it quite like that. Even with the busy traffic around us, my heart felt like it was thudding loud enough for him to hear. If I looked at him, the tears I was trying hard to hold back would flood out, so I stared straight ahead. "So, that's what I was thinking about," he said, his tone much lighter. "Five years ago, I'd never have seen myself as a dad. Now I can't wait to be one." And then the tears did fall. ***