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.
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.