Total pages in book: 166
Estimated words: 160356 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 802(@200wpm)___ 641(@250wpm)___ 535(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 160356 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 802(@200wpm)___ 641(@250wpm)___ 535(@300wpm)
“Like I’ve been the holdup,” Dec murmurs as Albi dashes down the steps to the car. “Ready?” he asks.
I nod.
It’s a lie.
* * *
The car ride goes by in a haze of questions from Albi, not all of which I can answer. Or should. “How old are you?” he asks. “My daddy is forty! It was his birthday and Aunty April had a party at her house and we had cake and balloons and Daddy blew out a whole forty candles!”
“Well, that sounds like lots of fun,” I say, looking back at the little prawn all bundled up in his car seat. “I’m thirty-seven. And you’re four.”
“Four and a half. When I’m five, Daddy said I can have an iPad. Just for a little time. Fred at school has an iPad. It’s blue with dinosaurs on it. I don’t want dinosaurs on my iPad. I want prawns on my iPad because they’re brainy and Daddy says I’m a brainbox. Are you clever?”
“I don’t think I’m as clever as you.” I feel Dec looking at me out the corner of his eye, almost in apology.
“Will you clap after the play?”
“Of course I’ll clap.”
“Will you sing the songs with us?”
“You bet I will.”
“Can you look after my cakes so Herbert Smith doesn’t eat them all? He’s greedy. One day, he took Ben Cuthbert’s Dunkers out of his lunchbox and ate them all and his Jam Roly-poly cake. He said he didn’t but he had jam all round his mouth.”
“I’ll look after your cakes,” I assure him, smiling to myself as I return forward in my seat.
“Will you stay for the party in our classroom? Father Christmas is coming, and I’m going to tell him what I want him to bring me this year. I’ve been a good boy, haven’t I, Daddy?”
“A very good boy,” Dec confirms. “We’ll let this morning slide,” he adds under his breath, taking a left at the lights. “And I don’t think grown-ups are allowed at the party, fella. It’s just for children and teachers.”
“And Father Christmas.”
“And Father Christmas,” Dec confirms.
“And Rudolf,” Albi adds. “I know all of Father Christmas’s reindeers, don’t I, Daddy?”
“You sure do.”
“Do you know all of Father Christmas’s reindeers?”
“I don’t.” I turn in my seat to face him again, becoming all too addicted to his beaming smiles so full of delight and innocence. “Can you tell me?”
He grins. “Dasher and Dancer and Prancer and Vixen and Comet and Cupid and Donner and Blitzen aannnd . . .”—he claps his hands theatrically—“Rudolph!”
“Wow.”
“I’m smart, aren’t I, Daddy?”
“The smartest boy I know.” Dec scrunches his nose at me, mouthing, “Sorry.”
“Stop it,” I order. “He’s the cutest.”
“And a real chatterbox today.” He looks at Albi in his rearview mirror, his smile on another level. It’s the smile a parent could only give their baby. The contrast in Dec Ellis is incredible. Stoic, serious businessman. Pacifying, playful dad. I fell in love with the former, saw chinks in his armour that made him all the more fascinating. This Dec? I love him the most.
“Do you love my daddy?”
Dec’s smile drops, as does mine, despite both of us knowing the answer is quite easy. Fuck. “What does love mean?” I ask, cringing as I turn back to face the road.
“It means you want to help him get dressed.”
“Oh?”
“And help him have a wash or a bath. And you take him milk when it’s bedtime. And you read him a book even when you’re supposed to be working. And you cut up his dinner for him. And you give him cuddles and kisses, and you tickle him and play Uno with him. And you let him help you at your office. And you let him eat ice cream at bedtime on Fridays.”
Oh my heart.
“Basically, loving someone means you’re their skivvy,” Dec murmurs quietly, and I laugh, the sound loud and rich, making Dec smile my way. “Well? Do you love me, Camryn?” he asks, splitting his attention between me and the road, interested.
“If you’re Daddy’s special friend, you have to love him,” Albi declares. “And Daddy loves you because he said you’re his special friend.”
“Then I guess I love him,” I confirm, warmth gushing through me unstoppably. “If that’s okay with you, Albi.”
“Yes! Daddy, you can come to bed with me, and Camryn will bring our milk now so you don’t have to.”
My laughter turns up a few more notches, and Dec joins me, as Albi breaks into song in the back of the car. A few years ago, I undoubtedly could have named any song being sung by any four-year-old across the land. Now, I have no idea what’s coming out of his mouth. “What are you singing, Albi?” I ask, as Dec’s hand rests in my lap, silently demanding I hold it.
“Moana,” he tells me, taking a short break to do so, before he’s off again, all the way to the school.