* * *
The day of the dinner arrived, and Dylan made sure that he was home early to help. Emmy had already set the dining room table with candles, fresh flowers, a damask tablecloth and silverware, and the chicken was in the oven.
‘Is there anything you need me to do?’ he asked.
‘Make a start on peeling the potatoes?’ she suggested.
He did so, and noticed that there was a list held onto the fridge with a magnet. ‘What’s this?’
‘The timing plan for dinner,’ she said. ‘And I’m using the oven timer to make sure I don’t miss anything.’
She definitely looked strained, he thought. ‘Stop worrying. I’m sure it will be fine.’
‘That’s not what you said when I first suggested cooking a roast dinner.’
He rolled his eyes. ‘OK, O Wise One. You were right and you know better than I do.’
‘I hope so.’ Though she didn’t sound convinced.
‘So you got the timings from a book?’ he asked.
‘Better than that—Mum helped. She did offer to come and cook for us, but I thought that’d be cheating.’
Would it? he wondered.
She’d obviously caught the expression on his face just before he masked it, because she sighed. ‘You think I should’ve taken her up on the offer, don’t you?’
‘No, I’m sure all will be just fine.’ He finished peeling the potatoes. ‘Do you want me to make the fruit salad?’
‘It’s already done so the flavours can mingle.’ Almost on cue, there was the sound of gurgling and cooing from the baby listener. She smiled. ‘It sounds like someone’s just woken. Go and play with Tyler—you’re getting under my feet and being annoying.’ She shooed him out of the kitchen, though he was careful to make sure that she really didn’t need any help before he agreed to go.
He spent some time playing with the baby. Again it surprised him just how much he was enjoying this domestic set-up. He’d never thought a family was for him; or maybe Nadine just hadn’t been the right person for him to have a family with. He pushed away the thought that maybe Emmy was the right one. He knew she had issues about relationships, and he wasn’t sure how it could work between them. They couldn’t risk fracturing Tyler’s world again.
* * *
Emmy ticked off everything she’d done on her list, checked the list a second time in case she’d missed anything, and then did a final read-through just to be absolutely certain.
Everything was ready, as far as it could be. Barring having to rescue everything from a last-minute catastrophe in the kitchen—and she hoped she’d done enough planning to avoid that—there was nothing else to do.
She changed into a simple black dress and some of her more delicate jewellery, and adopted the ‘less is more’ principle when it came to her make-up. She stared at herself critically in the mirror. How many of her ex-boyfriends hadn’t been happy with the way she looked? The colour of her hair, the fact that it rarely stayed the same colour for more than a couple of months at a time, the way she dressed...
She took a deep breath. Dylan wasn’t her boyfriend, and she looked just fine. Professional. Competent.
All the same, when she came back down into the kitchen, she grabbed an apron, just in case she spilled anything over herself while she was cooking.
Dylan was already there, feeding Tyler in his high chair. The baby beamed and banged his hands on his tray when he saw her.
‘Hello, Gorgeous. Is Uncle Dylan in charge of dinner tonight?’
‘Dih-dih.’ Tyler gurgled with pleasure—and bits of carrot sprayed all over Dylan’s shirt.
‘Oops. Sorry,’ she said.
He flapped a dismissive hand, then grinned.
‘What?’ she asked suspiciously.
‘If anyone had ever told me I’d see you wearing an apron, looking all domestic...’
‘Oh, ha ha.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘Ty, make sure you spit more carrot at him.’
Dylan just laughed. ‘We’re about done here. I’ll sort out bath and bed. Is there anything else you need?’
‘No—I’m fine. And you’d better change, Dylan—you’ve got mashed carrot on your shirt.’
‘I guess so.’
* * *
It wasn’t that long ago that Dylan had been so formal and stuffy that even his jeans were ironed and his T-shirts were pristine and white. He’d unbent an awful lot if he wasn’t that fussed about mashed carrot on one of his work shirts, Emmy thought, especially as she knew carrot could stain.
She fussed around downstairs while Dylan sorted out Tyler’s bath and bedtime, and changed his shirt. And then the doorbell went, and her stomach went into knots. This deal could mean as much for Dylan’s business as the magazine thing meant for hers so she really couldn’t afford to mess things up tonight. If the veg wasn’t cooked enough or, worse, cooked to a mush...
Breathe, she told herself. Everything’s going to be just fine. You’ve used the timer and ticked everything off the list. It’s not going to let you down and you’re not going to let Dylan down.
Dylan answered the door; she stayed in the kitchen for just a little longer, nerving herself, then came out to meet their guests.
‘Emmy, this is Ted and Elaine Burroughs—Ted and Elaine, this is Emmy Jacobs,’ Dylan introduced them.
‘Delighted to meet you. Thank you for having us,’ Ted said, and shook her hand warmly.
Emmy was horribly aware that she was still wearing her apron. So much for being sophisticated. ‘Um, sorry, I hope you’ll excuse...’ She indicated the apron with an embarrassed grimace.
‘Of course,’ Ted said.
‘So how long have you been together?’ Elaine asked.
Emmy and Dylan exchanged a glance.
Be honest, she willed him. Tell them the truth, or it’ll come back to bite you.
‘We’re not actually a couple, as such,’ Dylan said. ‘We share a house. And we’re also co-guardians of Tyler, our best friends’ son—they were killed in a car crash three months ago. They’d asked us both to look after Tyler if anything happened to them. So here we are.’
‘So you moved out of your own homes and in here together?’ Elaine asked.
‘It was the best thing for Tyler,’ Emmy said. ‘He needed to be somewhere familiar.’
‘Plus my flat in Docklands wasn’t really baby-friendly,’ Dylan added.
‘And mine in Camden was only big enough for me, not for the three of us,’ Emmy explained.
‘That must have been hard for you,’ Ted said, his face full of sympathy.
‘We’ve been thrown in a bit at the deep end,’ Emmy said, ‘but we’re managing. I should tell you now that dinner’s not totally a home-made thing. I’m afraid we cheated and bought the gravy and the ice cream, but I hope you’ll forgive us for that.’
‘My dear, it’s very kind of you to invite us over—especially given your circumstances,’ Elaine said.
‘We support each other,’ Emmy said. ‘Sometimes Dylan has a late meeting and needs me to pick up the slack, and sometimes I have a rush on at work and need him to hold the fort for me.’ She exchanged a glance with him. ‘And he’s better than I am at getting Ty to sleep. He sings better.’
‘That