* * *
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.
Spiky Emmy, the cynical and brittle woman he’d loathed so much in the past, wasn’t here. This was sweet, gentle, soft Emmy. Vulnerable Emmy, who’d had her confidence chipped away by exes who couldn’t see her for who she was, only what they wanted her to be. Emmy, who didn’t really believe in herself.
Dylan could see her for who she was. And he liked her. More than liked her.
But could he ask her to take a chance with him—to make their unexpected family a real one?
It would be a risk. A huge risk. It had gone wrong with Nadine; he couldn’t make any promises that he’d get it right, second time round, with Emmy. And he knew she shared similar fears, given that she’d been let down in the past.
Somehow he’d have to overcome those fears. Teach her that he wasn’t like the men she’d dated before: that he saw her for who she was and he liked her just the way she was. And then maybe, just maybe, they’d stand a chance.
A WEEK LATER, Emmy opened the thick brown envelope that had just been delivered, to discover an early copy of the glossy magazine that had interviewed her.
‘Ty, look—it’s Aunty Emmy’s feature,’ she said, waving the magazine at him.
Tyler was much more interested in picking up the bricks they’d been playing with, and dropping them.
She built him another tower to enjoy knocking down, counting the bricks for him as she did so, then flicked through the magazine to the article. There was a nice picture of her with Tyler, and they’d really showcased her jewellery beautifully. But her delight turned to dismay as she skimmed through the text.
She’d explained the situation to the journalist. She’d made it totally clear that she and Dylan were Tyler’s co-guardians and they weren’t an item. So why did the article make reference to Dylan being her partner?
Oh, no. He wasn’t going to be happy about that. At all.
She paced the house all morning. What was the best way to deal with this?
In the end, she decided to tell him straight. Sooner rather than later.
She waited until Tyler took his late morning nap, then called Dylan at work.
He answered immediately. ‘Is Tyler all right?’
‘Yes, he’s fine.’
Her shakiness must’ve shown in her voice, because he asked, ‘What’s wrong?’
‘There’s something you need to know. It’s pretty bad.’ She took a deep breath. ‘The magazine’s coming out next week. They sent me an early copy today.’
‘And they didn’t use your jewellery in the end?’ He sounded sympathetic. ‘More fool them.’
‘It’s not that. They did use my pieces.’ She swallowed hard. ‘But they’ve used a picture of me with Tyler—and they’ve said in the piece that you’re my partner. They actually named you as computer superguru Dylan Harper. And it—well, basically it implied that Tyler’s our child. I told the journalist why we were sharing a house and sharing Tyler’s care. I can’t believe they got it wrong like this! I’m so sorry. If this causes you any problems...’ Her voice faded. If it caused him problems, she had no idea what she could do to fix it. Would it make his divorce more difficult?
‘They got the wrong end of the stick. So what? It doesn’t matter. Stop worrying,’ he said, surprising her. She’d been so sure he’d be annoyed about it. ‘The main thing is that they showcased your jewellery.’
‘They did. And the jet animals.’
‘Good. Now breathe, Emmy.’
‘Thank you,’ she said in a small voice. ‘I thought you’d be livid.’
‘It could be a lot worse. Most people know the press exaggerate, so don’t worry about it. Just wait for people to start contacting you with commissions—and then you’ll be so busy you won’t have time to worry about it anymore.’
It was another week until the magazine was in the shops. Although Dylan had told her not to worry about it, Emmy still couldn’t help fretting. If anyone who knew him read the piece, they’d get completely the wrong idea.
The day before the magazine came out Dylan distracted her when he called her from work.
‘Don’t tell me—an emergency project meeting and you’re going to be late?’ she asked.
‘No—and I’m bringing champagne home. I got some good news this afternoon.’
‘You got the Burroughs contract?’
‘I certainly did.’
‘Fantastic.’ Emmy was genuinely pleased for him. ‘Well done.’
‘It was partly thanks to you,’ Dylan pointed out.
‘No, it’s because he recognises your skill. Actually, I have some news for you. Elaine Burroughs