‘I miss you. This is longest week yet,’ Theo says, his easy smile betraying the frustration we both feel at the days stretching out before we’re reunited. Behind him the sun is setting, the sky richer in colour than it was in April when I was there. Perhaps Methoni just seems so vibrant compared to the changeable weather in London when it already seems to be the height of summer in Greece.
‘Are you feeling well? You seem distant and look tired,’ he says, concern plain in his eyes.
‘I’m fine. It’s emotional clearing out Mum’s things and there’s lots to think about before I come back for my holiday next week. I’m so excited.’
A smile breaks over his face.
‘Of course, and maybe you stay longer and do not leave?’
‘I have to come back to London for work. I just need a little more time to think, Theo. It’s a big decision.’
‘What is there to think about? Do you want to live here or not? Is the only question, so what is left?’
What is left is I must tell you we’re accidentally going to be parents by the end of the year and you might rethink this whole scenario.
But I don’t say that out loud. I push it back down into the incessant knot of anxiety that’s like some hideous emotional version of indigestion.
‘I’ve thought about it all constantly and am reading up about residency paperwork after all the EU changes. But there’s so much for me to do. Not just with the house but with my business, as well. You can’t pressure me and expect me just to snap my fingers and decide. It all takes time, Theo.’
And time is ticking. As soon as I get to Methoni, I need to get straight to what matters. Does he or does he not want me and our baby in his future. Because we come as a twosome – it’s all or nothing. The flood of love and feelings about our future sometimes feels overpowering and then I crash back down to earth with a bang, remembering the countless conversations we had around children. Me, convinced he could be persuaded and him immovable.
Not long to wait now – just seven days until I’m there. I’m thrilled he looks so happy when he talks about my trip. But in my darkest moments, I fear I’m going to wipe the smile firmly off his face with my news. Aside from the constant nagging anxiety about losing the baby, if he doesn’t want this, then I’m resigned to staying in London and parenting alone. But I don’t want that; I want him and our life I’ve spent the last few weeks dreaming about. Only the family he imagines is just the two of us, and now, for me, that is a deal-breaker.