The From Paris With Love And Regency Season Of Secrets Ultimate Collection

CHAPTER TEN

DYLAN WAS TWITCHY for the next couple of days, though Emmy understood why. She’d been in the same situation herself, not so long ago.

On Saturday morning at breakfast, she said, ‘Right, you need to get out of the house.’

‘What?’ Dylan looked at her as if she were speaking Martian.

‘Waiting. It’s the pits. And if you stay in and try and concentrate on work, you’ll end up brooding. So you’re coming out with Ty and me to get some fresh air. Isn’t he, Ty?’

The baby gurgled and banged his spoon against the tray of his high chair. ‘Dih-dih!’

‘It sounds as if you have something in mind,’ Dylan said.

Emmy nodded. ‘I’ve been making a list of places to go with him. We can always go to the park with the slide and the swings on sunny days, but it’s no good on rainy or cold days. And this is one I’ve been looking forward to.’

* * *

She was mysterious about where they were going, and Dylan didn’t have a clue until they were standing outside what looked like an Edwardian greenhouse with a large banner that proclaimed it to be the House of Butterflies.

When they were inside, he discovered that the greenhouse was full of lush vegetation and had a slightly humid, warm atmosphere. He could hear the sound of water falling, so he realised there must be a fountain somewhere. There were butterflies of all sizes and colours, some huge and vivid. He’d never seen so many in one place before.

Ty seemed to love it, watching the butterflies opening and closing their wings as they perched on a flower or fluttered overhead. He reached out to them, waggling his fingers as if copying the movement of their wings.

‘Look—those people over there are standing very still, and the butterflies are landing on them,’ Emmy exclaimed, looking enchanted.

She tried it herself, and her face was suffused with wonder when a butterfly landed on her. Dylan wished for a second that he had a camera to capture that expression.

They wandered through the different sections of the enormous greenhouse, looking at the butterflies and the flowers; Dylan was surprised by how much it made him relax.

‘Thank you for bringing me here. I was getting a bit scratchy. Sorry, I haven’t been very nice to live with.’

She patted his arm, and the feel of her skin against his made him tingle. ‘That’s OK. I was the same when I was waiting. And you did the same for me, when you took me to the sea,’ she said. ‘I just thought this might be something different.’

‘I would never have thought to go to a butterfly house.’

‘To be fair, it hasn’t been open for that long, so you probably wouldn’t have known about it.’ She smiled at him. ‘Do you mind if I take a few photos?’

‘Sure, go ahead. I’ll take Ty.’

He took over the pushchair, and she took various photographs with her phone. Including, to his surprise, the roof of the greenhouse. He’d expected her to concentrate on the butterflies. Then again, Emmy seemed to see things in a different way from most people.

In the next section, there was a terrarium full of chrysalises, and they could actually see some of the pupae emerging from their cocoons.

‘That’s amazing. I never saw anything like that when I was a kid,’ Dylan said.

‘Did you have a garden?’

He nodded. ‘My grandparents had a huge garden, and my gran loved butterflies and bees—she had shrubs to attract them. My grandfather preferred the more practical stuff, growing fruit and vegetables. And I used to have to help weed the garden whenever I was there.’

‘Sounds as if you weren’t keen.’

‘I was a child,’ he said. ‘But I’ve never had a garden since.’

And they’d neglected Pete and Ally’s garden, just mowing the lawn.

In the section after, there was a waterfall and a pond with huge red and white goldfish. Emmy unbuckled Tyler from his pushchair and held him up so he had a good view of the pond. ‘See the red fish, Ty?’

‘Fiiih,’ said the little boy.

He saw the shock on Emmy’s face and the way she suddenly held Tyler that little bit tighter, as if she’d been near to dropping him. ‘Did you hear that, Dylan? He said “fish”!’

‘I heard.’ And it was crazy to feel so proud of him. Then again, Tyler was the nearest he’d ever get to having a son. Something he’d always thought he didn’t want, but now he knew he did.

Tyler clapped his hands with delight, and Emmy beamed at him. ‘Clever boy.’

* * *

This, Emmy thought, was the perfect day. Tyler learning a new word. Sharing this amazing spectacle with him and with Dylan. And the butterfly house definitely seemed to have taken Dylan’s mind off the wait to hear from Ted Burroughs.

In the next section, Dylan found a giant stripy caterpillar and pointed it out to the baby. ‘Hey, Tyler, what pillar doesn’t need holding up? A caterpillar!’

He chuckled, and the baby laughed back. And Emmy was enchanted. The joke was terrible, but Stuffy Dylan would never have done something like that. He was definitely changing and she really liked the man he was becoming.

‘We’ll have to take him to the zoo. I’ve noticed he really likes that tiger story you bought him,’ she said.

‘Maybe we could go next weekend?’ he suggested. ‘Though it’s your weekend off.’

‘No, that’d be good. I’d like that.’

‘And maybe we can look at planting things in the garden,’ he said, ‘flowers that butterflies really like. Then, next summer, when Tyler plays in the garden he might get to see a few butterflies.’

And maybe it would also bring back nice memories of his grandmother, Emmy thought. Dylan had mentioned her before; and she had the strongest feeling that he’d been closer to his grandmother than he was to his mother. He certainly missed her, from what he’d let slip.

‘That’s a great idea,’ she said. ‘Though I had a flat so I’m afraid I’m not much of a gardener. I tended to have cut flowers rather than houseplants. Ally bought me a couple and...well, let’s just say I don’t have green fingers.’

‘We’ll learn,’ he said. ‘Looking after a garden can’t be any harder than bringing up a baby, and we’re managing fine with Tyler.’

Emmy felt warm inside that not only were they working together as a team, he was also acknowledging that. And this was beginning to feel like being part of a real family. It was taking time, but they were finally bonding.

She was fascinated by the terrarium with the dragonflies in the next section. ‘Just look at the colours,’ she said, pointing them out to Tyler. ‘Blue and green dragonflies.’

‘Fiiih,’ the baby said again.

She laughed and rubbed the tip of her nose against his. ‘Fly, sweetie, not fish. But I guess they both sort of have scales.’

When they stopped in the café, she mashed a banana for Tyler and leaned down to feed him in his pushchair while Dylan went to get the coffee. When Tyler had finished, she scooped him onto her lap and cuddled him with one arm while she made a couple of quick sketches in the notebook she always carried in her handbag.

Dylan put the coffees on the table, out of Tyler’s reach. ‘What are you doing?’ he asked.

‘Just noting down a couple of ideas for jewellery.’

He looked intrigued. ‘So this sort of thing is where you get your inspiration?’

‘Sort of,’ she hedged.

‘Sorry, is this a creative thing? You don’t like to talk about work in progress?’

‘No, it’s fine.’ She felt relaxed enough with him to know that he wasn’t like her exes—he was asking because he was interested, not because he wanted her to stop or thought he had better ideas that she ought to go along with. She pushed her notebook across the table to him. ‘Have a look through if you want to. Sometimes I take pictures, sometimes I sketch.’

He flicked through the pages. ‘That spiderweb reminds me a bit of that necklace you made.’

‘With the heart in the middle rather than the spider?’ She smiled. ‘You’re right, that was the inspiration. It was a frosty morning and the cobwebs were really visible. They looked incredibly pretty, delicate yet strong at the same time.’

He reached the page where she’d sketched a couple of pictures of Tyler asleep. ‘I had no idea you could draw. I mean, I knew you designed stuff, but that’s not the same as a portrait. These are really good.’

‘Thank you. I was working while he was napping and I just thought he looked so cute and peaceful. I couldn’t resist it.’

He handed the book back to her. ‘Very cute. So you carry a notebook all the time?’

‘Yes. Because you never know when you’re going to see something that sets off an idea,’ she explained. ‘Though I guess it’s not quite like that with your job.’

He smiled. ‘No, it’s talking to the client that does that.’ He indicated the slice of chocolate cake he’d bought. ‘Would you like some of this?’

‘Thanks, but I’m fine.’ Mr Stuffy had changed absolutely, Emmy thought. A couple of months ago, he would barely have spoken to her. Now he was offering to share cake with her, for all the world as if they were partners.

Though she knew better than to kid herself. Yes, Dylan was attractive. Especially when you saw past the superficial eye-candy stuff to the real smile, the one that lit up his eyes. He could tempt her to break every single one of her rules and fall in love with him.

But then what? She couldn’t take the risk. If she had an affair with Dylan, she knew it would be amazing at first. But then it would go the way of all her other relationships and end in tears. Hers.

Dylan flicked through the leaflet he’d picked up at the counter. ‘Did you know that a butterfly tastes through its feet?’

She raised an eyebrow. ‘You expect me to believe that?’

‘Seriously, a butterfly can’t bite or chew food. It just sucks everything up with a proboscis, so it has to taste things through sensors in its feet.’

‘Did you hear that, Ty?’ She traced circles on his palm, making the baby giggle.

‘Round and round the garden,’ Dylan said.

He knew this? Then again, she’d noticed what he’d been reading. He’d left child development books in the living room. Being Dylan, he took things seriously and did it the geek way. ‘Like a teddy bear,’ she said.

‘One step.’ He put a finger on Tyler’s wrist.

‘Two step.’ She put a finger on Tyler’s elbow.

‘And a tickle under there.’ He tickled Tyler under the armpit, and the baby’s rich chuckle rang out.

‘Come to me so Em can drink her coffee?’ Dylan asked, holding his arms out.

Tyler echoed him, holding his arms out to be picked up. ‘Dih-dih!’

Dylan scooped him up. ‘How did he do with the banana?’

‘He ate about three-quarters of it.’

‘Good boy. Is the milk in his bag?’

‘Sure is.’ And how Dylan had come on as a father, she thought. In the early days, he’d been wary, unsure of himself. Now, he was confident, and Tyler responded to that. The baby clearly adored him.

She could easily adore Dylan, too—the man he’d become.

But she needed to keep her burgeoning feelings under control. This was as good as it was going to get, so she was going to enjoy it for what it was and not let herself wish for more. Even though, secretly, she did wish for more.

They really did look cute together, Tyler cuddled on Dylan’s lap, holding his own bottle and yet with Dylan’s hand held just under it as a safety net. She couldn’t resist taking a picture on her phone. ‘That’s lovely. I’ll send it to Ally’s and Pete’s parents.’

‘I was talking to them the other night,’ Dylan said. ‘They told me you write to them every week with pictures and updates.’

She shrugged. ‘Well, they don’t really use email. It’s nearly the same, just that I print it out rather than send it electronically. It’s not a big deal.’

‘It’s nice of you to bother, though.’

‘Just because they’ve lost their children, it doesn’t mean they have to lose their grandson as well,’ she said. Then an idea hit her. ‘Would you like to send a copy of this photo to your mum? I could send it to your phone, or even directly to her if that’s easier for you.’

‘No, it’s OK.’ But it was as if she’d thrown up a brick wall between them, because he went quiet on her.

What had she said?

They’d talked about sending a picture to Tyler’s grandparents and she’d suggested sending it to his own mother, too. And it wasn’t the first time he’d gone quiet on her after the subject of his parents had cropped up.

Clearly there was some kind of rift there, and she’d just trampled on a really sore spot.

‘I’m sorry, Dylan. I didn’t mean to...’ Help. Given that the intensely private man seemed to be back, how could she phrase this without making it worse? ‘I’m sorry,’ she said again.

He sighed. ‘It’s not your fault. Sorry. I’m stressing about the contract. I shouldn’t take it out on you.’

She let it go, but still she wondered. She’d noticed that Dylan’s mother had never visited or even called the house. He’d said before that his mother was travelling, so maybe she was somewhere with poor phone connections, or maybe she just called him during office hours, when he wasn’t in the house. But it was as if almost everything to do with Dylan’s family was in a box marked ‘extra private, do not touch’.

They still hadn’t quite got that easiness and family feeling back by the time they’d finished in the café and went to the gift shop.

Until she spied the butterfly mobile. ‘That’s lovely. We can put it over his cot. It’d look great with the stars from his nightlight floating over it, and he’ll see it first thing in the morning when he wakes.’

‘Mmm.’ Dylan didn’t sound that enthusiastic, but she knew he secretly liked the nightlight.

They continued to browse, and Dylan picked up a board book. ‘We need to get this.’

She glanced at it; it was a story about a caterpillar, and there was a finger puppet. So New Dylan was back. Stuffy Dylan might have read a grudging bedtime story, but New Dylan would read it with voices and props so a child would really enjoy it. She grinned. ‘You like doing bedtime stories, don’t you?’

‘Yes. If anyone had told me I’d like doing all the voices, I would’ve said they were crazy. But I do.’ He looked a bit wistful. ‘I wish Pete was here to share it. He would’ve loved this.’

‘So would Ally,’ she said softly. ‘And you know what? I think they’re looking down on us right now, hugging each other and saying they made exactly the right choice.’

To her surprise, he reached over to touch her cheek. ‘Know what? I agree.’

Emmy felt warm all over. Right now they were definitely in accordance. And nothing felt better than this.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

TWO NIGHTS LATER, Tyler wasn’t settling in his cot as he usually did after a bath and a story; he was just grizzling and looking unhappy. It didn’t look like teething, because although his cheeks were red he wasn’t dribbling. Emmy laid her fingertips against his forehead and bit her lip. He felt a bit too hot for her liking.

Where was the thermometer?

She looked through the top drawer of Tyler’s dressing table. Ally had shown it to her when she’d bought it. All she had to do now was put a thin plastic cone over the tip of the digital thermometer, place it in the baby’s ear, and press a button.

Except she couldn’t get the thermometer to switch on.

Oh, no. And she had a nasty feeling that they didn’t have any spare batteries that would fit.

Although it was her night on duty, she wanted a second opinion—especially as the thermometer was out of action.

‘Shh, sweetie, we’ll do something to make you feel better,’ she said, scooping the baby up and holding him close. She carried him down to the living room, where Dylan was working on his laptop.

‘Sorry to interrupt you,’ she said, ‘but I need a second opinion.’

‘What’s up?’ he asked.

‘The thermometer battery’s run out and we don’t have a spare. Does Tyler feel hot to you, or am I just being paranoid?’

He felt the baby’s forehead. ‘No, he feels hot to me, too. What do we do now? Where’s the book?’ He grabbed The Baby Bible and looked something up in the index. He frowned as he swiftly read the relevant page. ‘Do we have any baby paracetamol?’

‘It’s in the kitchen with the medicine cabinet.’

‘Good. We need to give him that to help bring his temperature down, and while that’s working we have to strip him down to his vest and sponge him down with tepid water.’ He held out his arms for the baby. ‘I’ll give him a cuddle and sing to him while you go and get the stuff. I’ll meet you in the bathroom.’

The baby was still crying softly when Emmy came upstairs with the baby paracetamol and the syringe. Dylan had taken the babygro off and was rocking Tyler and singing to him.

Dylan glanced at the syringe and his eyes widened. ‘What, we have to give him an injection?’

‘No. The instructions say it’s easier to give medicine to babies with an oral syringe than a spoon,’ she explained.

‘Right.’

Between them, they managed to administer the medicine, then sponged the baby with tepid water.

‘Sorry, I interrupted you from your work.’ She blew out a breath. ‘It’s my shift, and I should be able to cope. It’s just... This is what keeps me awake at night. I worry about him. I worry that every cough and sneeze will turn into meningitis. That he’ll die and it’ll be all my fault for not looking after him properly.’

‘Emmy, he doesn’t have meningitis. He doesn’t have a rash.’

‘There isn’t one at first. We could blink and he’ll be covered in purple stuff that won’t go away when you press a glass against it.’ She’d read all the books. She knew the signs. And she had nightmares about it. Terror that made her breathing go shallow.

‘We’re both keeping an eye on him, so we won’t miss anything between us.’ He rested his fingertips against her cheek, his touch calming her. ‘Deep breaths, Emmy. He’s not going to die and you’re doing a great job of looking after him. And don’t apologise for interrupting me.’ He cradled the baby tenderly. ‘He’s not well, and he needs to come first. I would’ve done the same if it was my shift.’

‘I’ll get him a drink of cooled boiled water. It might help him feel better.’

‘Good idea. It must be some sort of bug. There are quite a few people at work with rotten colds.’ He looked stricken. ‘Oh, no. I probably brought the germs home with me.’

She shook her head. ‘It’s not your fault, Dylan. He could have caught a virus absolutely anywhere.’

Three hours later, the baby was fast asleep, but Emmy was still worried about him. ‘I think I’ll sleep in his room tonight.’

‘You’re not going to get a lot of rest on the floor,’ Dylan pointed out.

‘I know.’ She sighed. ‘Or maybe I’ll bring him in with me. Except I’m a bit scared of rolling over in the night and squishing him.’

He looked at her. ‘If it was my shift tonight, you still wouldn’t be able to sleep because you’d be worrying about him, right?’

‘I guess so.’

‘Don’t take this the wrong way,’ he warned, ‘but maybe we could both look after him, tonight. I do trust you—of course I do—but this is the first time he’s been ill since we’ve been looking after him, and it worries me.’

‘Me, too,’ she admitted.

‘We could take two-hour shifts, so one of us stays awake and keeps an eye on him while the other of us has a nap,’ he suggested

She nodded. ‘But it isn’t fair to keep moving him between our rooms—and, as you said, the nursery floor isn’t that comfortable.’ The sensible course was obvious. But actually saying it... She took a deep breath. ‘OK. Your bed or mine?’

Dylan gave her a rueful smile. ‘I never thought I’d hear those words from you, Em.’

‘Believe you me, I never thought I’d say them to you,’ she said dryly. ‘And this is only because we both need to look after him. I’m not coming on to you.’ Though even as she said it, she felt her face flood with colour. She was horribly aware that, in another life, she would be coming on to Dylan—because she liked the man he’d become. And she definitely found him attractive.

Which was why she found her most frumpy pair of pyjamas before she showered, just to make the point that there was nothing sexual about this. She felt amazingly shy as she changed into her nightwear—which was ridiculous, considering that she was covered from head to toe and she knew that Dylan had seen more of her body when she was wearing a dress. Even so, she kept the bedside light on its lowest setting.

There was a knock on the door.

And how stupid that her heart missed a beat.

‘Come in,’ she called, hoping that her voice didn’t sound as husky and nervous to him as it did to her.

He walked in wearing just a pair of pyjama bottoms, carrying the sleeping baby.

‘I, um, don’t tend to wear a pyjama top because I get too hot at night. Is that a problem for you?’

‘No, it’s fine.’ She really hoped he hadn’t heard that little shiver in her voice. Too hot at night. Oh-h-h. He looked amazingly hot right now. She could really see that he worked out at the gym regularly because his muscles were beautifully sculpted; he had good abs and strong arms, and he wouldn’t have looked out of place in a perfume ad. Especially dressed the way he was, right now.

And that was totally inappropriate. He was here in her bedroom because Tyler was sick and they were sharing his care, that was all.

‘Which side of the bed do you prefer to sleep on?’ he asked.

‘The right side—nearest the door,’ she said.

‘Fine by me.’ He pulled the covers back and gently laid Tyler in the middle of the bed. He touched the baby’s forehead and grimaced. ‘He still feels hot.’

‘We’d better not put a cover over him, then.’

They both climbed into bed, on either side of the baby.

‘Poor little mite,’ Emmy said softly. ‘I wish I could have that high temperature for him.’

‘Me, too,’ Dylan said. ‘It’s weird how protective I feel about him. I never thought I’d ever feel this way about a baby.’

It was as if Tyler were their natural child, Emmy thought. She wasn’t his birth mother, but she was in the position of his mother, now, and she loved him deeply. Dylan clearly felt the same way, as if he were Tyler’s real father.

‘We’re privileged,’ she said softly.

‘Yes, we are.’ He paused. ‘Shall I take the first shift while you try to get some sleep for a couple of hours? I’ll wake you when it’s your turn.’

‘OK. Thanks, Dylan. I appreciate the backup.’

‘You’d have done the same if it’d been my turn to look after him,’ he said. ‘Try to get some sleep.’

She turned over so her back was to him, but she was so aware of him. He was in her bed, barely an arm’s reach away. And if Tyler hadn’t been there...

No, no and no. She was not going to allow herself to think about the possibilities.

Eventually Emmy managed to get to sleep. Then she became aware of someone stroking her arm and shaking her shoulder very gently. ‘Emmy? Wake up.’

‘Uhh.’ It took a second for her to think why Dylan would be shaking her awake; then she remembered and sat up with a jolt. ‘Is Tyler OK?’

‘He’s still a bit warm, but I put a single sheet over him because his legs and arms seemed a bit cold.’

‘Good idea. You get some sleep now. I’ll stay awake.’

Still feeling groggy, she placed her fingertips on Tyler’s forehead. Dylan’s assessment was spot on.

She was glad that Dylan turned his back to her to go to sleep, because she really didn’t want him to catch her looking lustfully at him. Even his back was beautiful. She itched to sketch him, though it was years since she’d taken her Art A level and sketched a life model. Apart from those brief sketches she’d made of Tyler, she’d stuck mainly to abstracts and the designs for her jewellery. But Dylan was beautiful. He’d be a joy to sketch. She fixed the picture in her mind, intending to indulge herself later, then watched Tyler sleeping. The baby looked angelic with that mop of dark curls; and she was glad to see, even in the low light in the room, that his cheeks didn’t look quite so red.

In his sleep, Dylan shifted to face her. In repose, he looked younger. It took Emmy a while to realise what the difference was, and then she worked it out: he didn’t have that slight air of wariness she was used to.

Someone had hurt him pretty deeply, Emmy was sure. Nadine was the obvious candidate, but Emmy had a feeling that it went deeper than that. Why had he been so resistant to the idea of having a child of his own? Had he had a rotten childhood?

Not that he’d tell her, she knew. Even if she asked him straight out. He was way too private for that, and it was surprising that he’d already let this much slip to her.

Finally her two-hour watch was over. She checked Tyler’s temperature again. Good. It was definitely going down. She reached over to lay a hand on Dylan’s arm. His skin felt so good against her fingertips. Soft and smooth. Tempting her to explore further.

Get a grip, Emmy Jacobs, she lambasted herself silently. This isn’t about you.

She patted his arm lightly, but it didn’t wake him at all. She shook his shoulder, and there was still no response. Dylan was clearly in a really deep sleep. And he had taken the first shift; he must’ve been exhausted. She decided to leave him sleeping for another hour, then tried to wake him again. This time, she climbed out of bed and went round to his side, so she could shake him harder without waking the baby.

In response, Dylan reached out to her and mumbled something she didn’t quite catch. It sounded like ‘Mmm, Dee’.

‘Dylan,’ she said in an urgent whisper.

‘Mmm,’ he muttered. This time, he actually pulled her into his arms and snuggled closer.

Oh, help.

If it weren’t for the baby lying next to him, she could be oh, so tempted. All she had to do was to move her head slightly and her mouth would touch against his. She could kiss him awake. See where it led them.

But he’d said ‘Dee’, and she had a nasty feeling that he was dreaming about his ex. Mmm, Dee. Nadine. They sounded the same, mumbled in sleep. And how stupid she was to think that Dylan would get over his wife that quickly. He was obviously still in love with his ex. Yes, there was a definite attraction between the two of them, but physical attraction wasn’t enough. Her relationships never lasted. If she had a fling with Dylan, it would make everything way too complicated. She really couldn’t do this.

She managed to resist the temptation—only just—and wriggled out of his arms.

‘Dylan,’ she said, more loudly this time.

He woke with a start and looked at her in utter confusion. Then his expression cleared as he obviously remembered where he was and why. ‘How’s Tyler?’

‘Still a little bit warm, but nowhere near as hot as he was. He’s asleep.’

‘Good. Is it three o’clock?’

‘Four.’

He looked shocked. ‘You were supposed to wake me at three.’

‘Dylan, you sleep like a log. I couldn’t wake you.’

He grimaced. ‘I’m sorry. OK. I’ll take the next three hours and I’ll wake you at seven, not six, OK?’

‘OK.’ She was still feeling slightly lightheaded; but that had to be from lack of sleep. It had absolutely nothing to do with the way Dylan had pulled her into his arms and held her close. Did it?

* * *

Emmy looked absolutely shattered, Dylan thought—and no wonder, since her shift had lasted longer than his. He felt guilty about it, and lapsed into silence to let her sleep. He touched Tyler’s forehead, just to check; she was right, the baby felt cooler.

He shifted onto his side to watch the baby. Emmy had turned away from him to sleep, but he could still feel her warmth in his arms. When she’d woken him, for a moment he’d been confused and thought he was back in his old house, the one he’d shared with Nadine before he’d moved into the Docklands flat. It had seemed natural to draw her closer, hold her.

Hopefully she’d forget about that by the morning. He didn’t want her to think he was coming on to her, because it could make things so awkward between them. And he didn’t want it to go back to the bad old days, when they hadn’t got on.

Funny, sharing a house with Emmy hadn’t been like sharing with Nadine, even in the early days when he and Nadine had been happy. With Emmy, he didn’t feel any pressure. He didn’t have anything to live up to, because they’d started from the lowest possible point and thought the worst of each other.

And these past few months had been a revelation. He’d been so sure that he didn’t want a family. That he didn’t want to risk things going wrong and for his child to grow up as unhappy as he’d been. Even when Nadine had given him an ultimatum, his feelings hadn’t changed and he knew he’d made the right decision.

Yet, ever since he’d become a stand-in father, things had been different. Over the months, he’d grown to love his godson. He loved seeing all the little changes every day, hearing the little boy’s vocabulary grow from a simple da-da, ba-ba, through to ‘Dih-dih’ for Dylan and ‘Ehhhm,’ for Emmy, and sounds that resembled real words—like the time in the butterfly house when Emmy had been convinced that he’d said ‘fish’. He enjoyed seeing Tyler’s anticipation as they read through a story and were about to reach his favourite bits. He enjoyed the simple clapping games Emmy had taught him to play with the little boy.

And Emmy herself...

There was the rub.

She was Tyler’s stand-in mother. Dylan’s co-guardian and housemate.

They were well on the way to becoming friends. He enjoyed her company, and he thought she enjoyed his, too. And, although they’d agreed to have alternate weekends off from childcare, in recent weeks they’d ended up spending a fair bit of those weekends together.

It felt like being a family. What he’d always said he didn’t want. And what he’d discovered that, actually, yes, he did want. Very much indeed.

She shifted in bed, turning to face him, and he held his breath.