‘Of course I’ll do the table setting. But this meal needs to be home-cooked if you invite him round. We can’t just give him a ready meal from the supermarket.’ She thought for a moment. ‘OK. If he’s a family man, invite his wife and kids. We’ll make it a family meal.’
His eyes narrowed. ‘So what are you planning? Are you going to talk your mum into cooking for us?’
She shook her head. ‘I don’t need to. We’ll keep it simple. Something like...hmm. A roast dinner.’
He grimaced. ‘I remember the student house I shared with Pete. The four of us made our first Christmas dinner and the turkey wasn’t properly cooked. We were all ill for three days afterwards.’
‘This isn’t a student house. And I’ll ask my mum about timings so it won’t go wrong. How old are his kids?’
‘I have no idea.’
‘Find out.’ She looked thoughtful. ‘Actually, if they’re little, they won’t have the patience for a starter, and if they’re teens they probably won’t want to come anyway. So we’ll skip the starter. We can do a roast dinner for the main, and fresh fruit salad and ice cream for dessert. We’re both working and we’re looking after Tyler, so it’s OK to take the odd short cut.’
‘But you’ll be there at the table, won’t you? You’re not just going to be in the kitchen?’
‘Why, Dylan, anyone would think you wanted me there,’ she teased.
He gave her a speaking look. ‘All right. You can have your pound of flesh. I want you there. You have good social skills.’
‘Thank you.’ She grinned and punched his arm. ‘And yours are a bit better than they were. Go and ring him. Find out if there’s anything they can’t eat—either because of allergies or because they hate it. And we definitely need to know if anyone’s vegetarian.’
‘Because then we’ll have to rethink the menu?’
‘Because then dinner will be pasta,’ she said. ‘We can both cook that. And we’ll serve it with garlic bread and salad. Simple and homely.’
* * *
Dylan rang his potential client the next morning, and then rang Emmy. ‘It’ll be just Ted Burroughs and his wife. You were right about the kids—they’re teens, and he says they’ll pass on the invite.’ He smiled. ‘Mind you, he has girls. If I’d said I live with a top jewellery designer...’
‘No, they would’ve been bored with the conversation, so it’s better that they don’t come,’ Emmy said. ‘What about the food?’
‘No allergies, and he appreciated you asking.’ He paused. ‘I appreciate you, too. I wouldn’t have thought of that.’
‘Which is because,’ she said, ‘you only have one X chromosome.’
‘That’s so sexist.’
She laughed. ‘Bite me, Dylan.’
She was adorable in this playful mood.
Then Dylan caught his thoughts and was shocked at the fact he’d used the word ‘adorable’ about her. What was happening? Emmy Jacobs was his co-guardian, and that was all.
The kisses and the hand-holding in the taxi had been...well, mistakes.
Even if he did want to repeat them.
Even if a little, secret part of him thought that yes, he’d like to be partners with Emmy in more than just sharing Tyler’s care.
‘See you later,’ he said. ‘And thanks.’
* * *
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