Did she really have to ask? He narrowed his eyes at her, just to make the point that she was being overpicky. ‘I learned to cook. I only do basic stuff—don’t expect Michelin-star standard—but it’ll be edible and you won’t get food poisoning.’ He paused as a nasty thought struck him. ‘Does that mean you don’t cook?’
‘I can do the basics,’ she said. ‘I shared a house with Ally at university.’
And Ally was an excellent cook. Dylan had never turned down the offer of a meal at his best friend’s; he was pretty sure it must’ve been the same for Emmy. ‘And she did all the cooking?’ he asked.
‘Our deal was that she cooked and I cleaned.’ Emmy shrugged. ‘Though I picked up a few tips from her along the way.’
But she wasn’t claiming to be a superchef. Which made two of them. Basic food it would have to be. Which wasn’t much change from the way he’d been living, the last six months. ‘Right. So we’ll pay a cleaner, and have a rota for childcare and cooking.’
He took a sip of his coffee, though it didn’t do much to clear his head. Three days ago, he’d been just an ordinary workaholic. No commitments—well, almost no commitments, he amended mentally. No commitments once his divorce papers came through and he signed them.
Today, it was a different world. His best friend had died; and it looked as if he’d be sharing the care of his godson with a woman who’d always managed to rub him up the wrong way. Not the life he’d planned or wanted. But he was just going to have to make the best of it.
‘So who looks after Tyler when we’re at work?’ he asked.
‘We take turns.’
‘I’m not with you.’
‘Ally wasn’t planning to go back to work until after his second birthday. She wanted to be a stay-at-home mum and look after her own baby.’ Emmy looked awkward. ‘I don’t think she would’ve wanted us to put him in day care or get a nanny.’
‘We’re not Ally and Pete, so we’re going to have to make a decision that works for both of us,’ Dylan pointed out. ‘We both have a business to run. Taking time off work isn’t going to happen. Not if we want to keep our businesses running.’
‘Unless,’ Emmy suggested, ‘we work flexible hours. Delegate, if we have to.’
‘Delegate?’ He frowned. ‘I thought you were a sole trader?’
‘I am, but you’re not.’
He almost asked her if she was using the royal ‘we’, and stopped himself just in time. That wasn’t fair. She was trying. And he bit back the snippy comment that she was trying in more than one sense of the word.
‘Are you a morning or an evening person?’ she asked.
He usually worked both. That had been another of Nadine’s complaints: Dylan was a workaholic who was always in the office or in his study. ‘Either.’
‘I prefer working in the evenings. So, if you’re not bothered, how about you go in early and I’ll take care of Tyler; and then you take over from me at, say, half-three, so I can get on with my work?’
‘And what if I need to have a late meeting?’
‘We can be flexible,’ she said. ‘But if you’re late back one day, then you’ll have to be home much earlier, the next day, to give me that time back.’ She shrugged. ‘There might be times when I have meetings and need you to take over from me. So I guess we’re going to have to be flexible, work as a team, and cover for each other when we need to.’
Work as a team with a woman he’d always disliked. A woman who reminded him of the worst aspects of his mother—the sort who’d dump her responsibilities on someone else with no notice so she could drift off somewhere to ‘find herself’.
Dylan pinched himself, just to check that this wasn’t some peculiar nightmare. But it hurt. So there was no waking up from this situation.
‘OK. We’ll sort out a rota between us.’ He paused. ‘I still don’t want to live with you, but I guess the only option is to share the house.’ It didn’t mean they had to share any time together outside the handover slots.
‘So when do we move in to Pete and Ally’s?’ she asked
‘I have to sort out the lease on my flat,’ he said.
‘And I’ll need to talk to the bank about subletting my flat, to make sure it doesn’t affect the mortgage.’
Dylan was surprised. He hadn’t thought Emmy would be together enough to buy her own place.
‘And they might be able to put me in touch with a good letting agency,’ she finished.
She’d obviously thought this through. Then again, she’d had time to think about it. The social worker had talked to her about it already.
‘So we could move in tomorrow.’
He’d rather not move in at all, but he had no choice. Not if he was going to carry out his duty. ‘Tomorrow.’ He paused. ‘Look—we really need to put Tyler first. We don’t like each other, but we’ve agreed to make an effort for his sake. What happens if we really can’t get on?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘In a business, if you hire someone in a senior role, you’d have a trial period to make sure you suited each other. Then you’d review it and decide on the best way forward.’
‘This isn’t a job, Dylan.’
‘I know, but I think a trial period might be the fairest way for all of us. Give it three months. See if we can make it work.’
She nodded. ‘And, if we can’t, then you’ll agree that I’ll have sole care of Tyler?’
He wasn’t ready to agree to that. ‘We’ll review it,’ he said. ‘See what the viable options are.’
‘OK. Three months.’ She paused. ‘But if anything big comes up, we discuss it before the situation gets out of hand.’
That worked for him. ‘Agreed.’
‘So that’s settled.’ She lifted her chin. ‘Before we go any further, I need to know something. Is there anyone who’d be upset about us sharing a house?’
He frowned. ‘I’ve already told you, I’m separated from Nadine. It won’t be a problem.’
‘What about the woman you had an affair with?’
He stared at her in disbelief. ‘What woman?’
‘Oh, come on. It’s the main reason why marriages break down. Someone has an affair. Usually the man.’
Was she really that cynical?
Had that happened to her?
He couldn’t remember Pete or Ally ever talking about going to Emmy’s wedding, but at the end of the day a marriage certificate was just a piece of paper. Maybe Emmy had been living with someone who’d let her down in that way. ‘Not that it’s any of your business why my marriage broke up, but for the record neither of us had an affair,’ he said tightly.
Colour stained her cheeks, ‘I apologise.’
Which was something, he supposed. ‘There’s nobody who would be affected by us sharing a house,’ he said quietly.
Or was there another reason why she’d asked? A way to introduce the subject, maybe, because there was someone in her life who’d be upset? ‘If it’s a problem for you, I’m happy to—’
‘There’s nobody,’ she cut in.
Was it his imagination, or did she suddenly look tired and miserable and lonely?