The Accidental Life of Greg Millar Read Online Free PDF Page B

sorry.’
    He shakes his head. ‘No worries.’ He looks down, shoving his hands into his pockets, leaning against the sink. ‘I was wrong to ask so soon.’ He looks up. ‘I just wanted you to know how committed I am to you.’
    I go to him and wrap my arms around his waist. ‘And I’m committed to you. But we don’t need grand gestures . . .’
    ‘It wasn’t a gesture. And it’s not a whim. I’ve thought this through. It would make so much sense. As it is, I live two separate lives – you and my family. I don’t want you to feel separate.’
    ‘I don’t want to either. I’d like to meet Rachel and Toby. I’d like to share the rest of your life. Just not as your wife.’
    He nods. ‘You’re right. I have to stop rushing things for fear they’ll end.’
    I press myself into his chest. ‘This won’t end.’ But I, of all people , know that it can, in an instant.
    He pulls back. ‘Let’s pretend I never asked. OK? Let’s forget the whole thing.’
    I try to think of ways I might have said no without hurting him.
    He reaches for a roll of kitchen paper. ‘Here,’ he says, ripping a sheet off and putting it to my nose. ‘Blow.’
    I half laugh.
    ‘Come on. Blow.’
    I do.
    He squeezes it over my nose. ‘You love me. That’s a start.’

    I spend the night awake. Saying yes would have been wrong. But saying no feels equally so. I’ll never forget his face. Ever.

    First thing next morning, I make my way to Fint’s office, bleary-eyed. He’s at his desk, juggling, something he does when trying to come up with ideas. I turn to leave.
    ‘Where are you going?’ he asks, letting the balls flop, one by one, into his hands.
    ‘You’re busy.’
    ‘Nah, nothing coming.’ He returns the colourful juggling balls to their shiny metal box. ‘So, how are things?’
    ‘I’ll just close the door.’
    He raises an eyebrow.
    With the world shut out, I slump into the chair opposite him, reach forward and help myself to one of his juggling balls. I drop it from hand to hand.
    ‘Well?’
    I look up. Everything has shifted. Normally, Fint seeks my advice on his (complicated) relationships and I try to avoid his interference in mine. ‘Greg’s asked me to marry him.’
    He eyes me carefully. ‘You don’t seem too happy.’
    I shrug. ‘I can’t do it to Brendan.’
    He gets up and comes around. Taking the ball from me, he sits on the desk. ‘Brendan’s dead, Lucy.’
    ‘But he’s not gone! He sees everything I do. I know he does; I fee l it. I can’t just marry someone else. I can’t do it to him.’
    He eyeballs me. ‘So say no.’
    ‘I did.’
    ‘Well, then. What’s the problem?’
    ‘I love him.’
    ‘That is allowed, Lucy.’
    I sigh deeply. ‘I do want to be with him. I want to be part of his life. I want to wake up to his face every morning. I mean, what if something happens to him and we never— ’
    ‘Hang on. Whoa. Slow down. Nothing’s going to happen to Greg.’
    ‘How do you know?’
    ‘Because lightning doesn’t strike twice.’
    ‘Not true. A park ranger was struck by lightning seven times in the States. It’s in the Guinness Book of World Records .’
    He smiles. ‘Remind me to include you in the next pub quiz.’
    ‘I’m serious, Fint. If Brendan and I knew what little time we had, we wouldn’t have hung around for all the practical things to be in place – apartment, furniture, whatever. We’d have married straight away. We’d have had a child. And I’d have a part of him to hold to me now. I don’t want that to happen again . . .’
    ‘Lucy, it won’t.’
    ‘I couldn’t bear it. He makes me so happy. I love him so much.’ I’m a mess.
    ‘Come here.’ He gives me a Fintan Special – a great big bear hug. And lets me cry. When I’ve moved to the intermittent sobbing stage, he pulls back. ‘OK. Here’s what Uncle Fint thinks. One: You love Greg. Two: I don’t blame you; he’s a great guy. Three: You’re lucky to get another chance. And four: