Abbie laughed. And laughed. When she finally got some control she managed to splutter, ‘Now I know how rattled you are.’
‘I am not,’ Emma ground through her teeth. She hadn’t been, but she wondered if she was expecting too much. She shook off that though—now was the time to leap in and have some fun, maybe find love while she was at it. ‘Not rattled, bewildered.’ She held her hand up. ‘No words of wisdom, please. I’m going to work this out my way.’ Hopefully that would encompass another of those stupendous kisses. At least one.
‘Here, get this into you.’ Callum handed her a beer. ‘Since I’ve suddenly been replaced as—’ he flicked his fingers in the air ‘—quote, “daddy partner”, I’ll be the drinks waiter.’
He could stop laughing and all. Emma grabbed the beer and gratefully tipped a mouthful down her dry throat. Then nearly choked when Nixon looked across at her with such a smile of delight on his face as Rosie cheered loudly over a goal they’d scored. ‘He’s enjoying himself,’ she muttered.
‘What can I say?’ Abbie gloated. Then twenty minutes later she said, ‘Get that man a beer, Callum. The game’s finished.’
Rosie was trotting alongside Nixon trying to keep up with his long stride, her hand in his. ‘Mummy, did you see that? Nixon helped me kick a goal.’
‘Clever clogs. You played really well.’ Emma smoothed errant curls off her daughter’s forehead and leaned down to kiss her cheek, whispering, ‘Did you thank Nixon for playing with you?’
‘Thank you, Nixon, for playing with me.’ Rosie was jumping up and down between her and Nixon. ‘I’m going to get a present, I’m going to get a present.’
Emma slapped a hand over her ear nearest that explosion, but too late. The sound reverberated through her head. ‘Jeez, Rosie, down a decibel or three, if you can.’
‘What’s a decibel?’
Nixon chortled. ‘I think your mother is saying you shout too loudly.’
‘That’s how I make her hear me.’ Rosie had an answer for everything since starting school.
‘Go on, join the other kids. The presents will be given out shortly.’ Emma patted her bottom.
‘Where’s Santa?’ Rosie’s face fell. ‘How will I get a present if he’s not here?’
‘You won’t miss out, my girl. Have I created a spoilt little monster by any chance?’ she asked the others.
‘It’s Christmas. This is what kids are like,’ Abbie reassured her.
‘Did you get her a muzzle by any chance?’ Nixon asked.
She nodded. ‘A permanent one.’ Somehow she’d stepped closer to Nixon, could feel him beside her without touching him. As if they were a couple—an in-tune couple, not a hit-and-miss pair of messed-up characters. A permanent kind of life. Oh, hell, what was she thinking? ‘The barbecues are being cranked up. You’ll stay?’
Don’t say no, please don’t say no…
‘Love to, but shouldn’t I have contributed something?’
‘There’s enough food to feed twice this many people, and I brought some beer so you’re all good. Anyway, you took me flying. Should I have paid half the plane rental?’ she asked sharply. It hadn’t occurred to her to offer when her mind had been on other things. ‘I never thought.’
‘I invited you to join me. I didn’t expect you to pay. The only stipulation was to have a great time, and you did that.’
Gazing at Nixon, she told him truthfully, ‘I certainly did. Way beyond my expectations.’ So was that kiss. ‘It gripped me. I felt I’d left everything on the ground for an hour.’
‘That’s how I feel most times.’ Back to smiling. Not that he’d really stopped since he’d arrived. ‘There’s a freedom up there like no other, away from people, except the ones yabbering in your ear from air traffic control.’
‘No white lines and pedestrian crossings.’
‘Sure you don’t want to take it up?’
‘Yes. I don’t do much for me what with Rosie and work, but it’s time I found something to get passionate about. Holding those controls gave me confidence and nudged me into thinking about a whole raft of things I might like to take up, but I keep coming back to owning my own horse one day. If that sounds like mumbo jumbo it’s because I spent so long getting over the past I forgot about the future.’
And you, Dr Wright, are shaking me up something shocking. Exhilarating even.
‘We’ll go up soon, take Rosie with us.’
‘Yes, please.’ Bring it on. The flying. And Nixon time.
How long before kisses weren’t going to be enough?
Settle, Emma. Getting ahead of yourself here. Until two weeks ago you weren’t interested in any guy, or having fun and kisses and—and sex.
Whoa. Sex? It did follow on from the kind of deep and meaningful kiss they’d shared. But sex—with Nixon? Why not? With all the aches her body had going on? She shuddered. Maybe not.
‘I’ll go help Callum at those barbecues.’ Nixon sauntered off.
‘He looks like he belongs here,’ Abbie muttered.
‘Shouldn’t you be watching Grace?’ Emma growled.
‘Just saying.’
Emma swallowed a laugh. ‘Can I have a hold?’ She reached out for Grace, who was staring up at her. ‘Hey, gorgeous. How’re you doing?’ Snuggle, snuggle. Sigh.
‘That sounded like a wish.’ Abbie was watching her, no longer smiling or teasing, now in concerned-friend mode.
‘Not for Grace, in case you’re worried.’ Yes, holding Grace still cranked up the hormones something terrible but it had got easier over the past few days. The gaps between feeling lost and needy for this baby were stretching longer and occurring less frequently. No, this feeling going on inside her involved Nixon and her own family. ‘If anything’s come of having Grace it’s that I’m missing out on so much. Would it be greedy to want another baby? No, let me rephrase that. A family. The whole shebang. Loving man, more children.’
‘What’s greedy about that? It’s what most of us want eventually, after we get the crazy stuff out of our systems. This anything to do with Nixon?’
‘Lots.’ There. She’d admitted it out loud. To the one person who’d treat it with the care it deserved. ‘But I’m scared. It doesn’t help that Nixon’s not ready and nothing’s going to happen.’
‘You could try enjoying the moments. One step at a time. Says the woman who was never going to find love again, and kapow!’
A sense of well-being encompassed Emma. Excitement, caution, need, independence. Every emotion in the book rolled through her without tipping her sideways, instead leaving her with an easy acceptance.
‘Very profound.’ Abbie chuckled. ‘We’re two mature, life-damaged women and we’ve arrived at that? I like it. What will be tonight is you and Nixon sharing overcooked steak and sausages off the barbecue along with soggy coleslaw made by our favourite elderly neighbour and baked spuds in tinfoil still hard in the middle. But, hey, you won’t notice, because you’ve hardly noticed a thing since he turned up. Then you’ll take Rosie home, tuck her in bed, and snog Nixon senseless. How’s that?’
Perfect. ‘Don’t expect me to report in with a running commentary.’ She handed Grace back to her mother with only a tiny backward glance. ‘Better go see how Rosie is doing. I got her a pogo stick for her present.’
Seems Nixon had beaten her to helping Rosie. He was holding the stick and Rosie’s arm as she tried to bounce along the path. ‘Don’t lift your feet off the step,’ he instructed. ‘That’s it. Now lift your legs and the stick at the same time. Like this.’ Without letting go of Rosie he did a good impersonation of bouncing on a stick when he didn’t have one.
Rosie wobbled on the stick, concentrating fiercely, then bounced. A tiny bounce, but it was real.
‘Go, girl,’ Emma encouraged. ‘Do it again. Yes, awesome.’
Nixon walked alongside Rosie, keeping her steady as she got the hang of the motion.
Then, ‘Let go, Nixon. I can do it on my own.’
‘Yes, ma’am.’ But
he kept his hands close, ready to catch her if—when it all turned to custard. After three bounces. ‘Got you.’
He’d make a good dad for that baby she wanted. Bumps lifted on her skin. Far too soon, Emma. ‘Okay, you two, come and get some dinner.’ She couldn’t watch any more now that idea had struck. Nixon helping Rosie with her kite last weekend had started the hope rising, and today was lifting it to a whole new level. But Nixon would say he wasn’t used to playing with kids, and that he had a lot to learn. ‘You’re a natural,’ she told him over burnt sausages and well-done steak.
‘At what?’ he asked before loading dressing-laden salad into his mouth.