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)
As if he’s heard my silent question, his eyes open, his sleepy gaze finding Albi next to him. His frown is adorable as his waking mind slowly brings him up to speed. His eyes jump directly to mine. I smile a little, letting him know I’m okay.
He sighs and rolls gingerly onto his side to face me. “Sorry,” he murmurs.
“Don’t be.”
“Did his snoring wake you?”
I shake my head. “I’m naked.”
Dec’s eyes widen theatrically, his head craning to see over his sleeping son. His nose wrinkles when he finds me covered, and I chuckle as he edges to the side of the bed and gets out. He wanders across the bedroom. “And so are you,” I breathe, admiring him in all his naked glory as he pulls a T-shirt off the chair and brings it to me. “I’ll go make coffee.” He bends and plants a kiss on my lips. “Be careful. He tends to play football in his sleep.”
“He does?” At that exact moment, Albi’s foot boots me in the thigh, and he mumbles a few inaudible words as he rolls away from me. Dec winces on my behalf. “Ouch,” I whisper, when I actually want to yell at the sharp stab of pain that travels down to my knee. “I think I’ll get ready for work.” I glance at the clock on the nightstand. Six thirty. “So much for being out for the count until seven.” I put my hand out for Dec to pull me up. “Mind if I use your shower?”
“Help yourself.” He pulls on some boxers and strides off as I wriggle into the T-shirt and take myself to the bathroom.
After showering, brushing my teeth, and getting dressed, I head downstairs, feeling distinctively different this morning. Lighter. There’s . . . a sense of quiet, subdued joy beneath my skin.
Dec’s at the island, coffee in one hand, his mobile in the other, talking. “I’ll be there at nine.” He hangs up. Takes me in. “When do you finish for Christmas?”
“Tomorrow.”
“Spend it with us,” he says out of the blue, making me pause halfway to setting my bag on the island to get my coat on.
“What?”
He gets up and takes my coat from my hands, holding it up for me to feed my arms through. “I said, spend it with us.”
A nativity play, albeit a fraudulent example, is one thing. So is a date to see Father Christmas. Spending Christmas with them? I don’t want to cast my shadows over what should be a magical day for Albi. And for Dec. He’ll be watching me constantly. Worrying sensitive nerves are being hit. “I—”
“Think about it,” he whispers in my ear, his hands on my shoulders. “That’s all I ask.”
“Okay,” I agree for the sake of it, if only to cut this conversation in its tracks. “I have to go.”
“Four more sleeps!” Albi comes dashing into the kitchen like a rocket, zooming around the island to the point I’m dizzy. “Four more sleeps, four more sleeps! He’s coming in four more sleeps!” He stops, out of breath after his mad dash. “Why’d you sleep in Daddy’s bed?”
“Over to you,” I breathe, grabbing my bag.
“Right, fella,” Dec says, sounding super enthusiastic. “We’ve got to go to work for a little while.”
“Yay!” Albi dashes back out, a total whirlwind. “I’ll put on my power suit.”
My eyebrows raise. “He has a power suit?”
“A policeman’s costume. It’s a step up from the prawn.” Dec walks me to the door and opens it, and I find Ron on the other side.
“Oh, hi.”
“Ron will take you.”
“I can get myself to work.”
“But you don’t need to because Ron can take you and then come back for me and Albi.” He motions outside. “Look at it, Camryn.” Then he points to my heels.
“Yes, but I have these,” I say, dipping and picking up my wellington boots from where I left them.
“They’ll look smashing with that dress.”
I point a half scowl half smile at him. “Talk later.”
“We will,” he says, full of authority.
* * *
Small talk is the name of the game on the drive with Ron, it seems. Where do I work, how long have I worked there, where did I meet Dec, when did I meet him? I couldn’t help but think they were all questions he knew the answers to. “Have you worked for Dec for long?” I ask, if only to relieve him of the pressure to think up any more pointless questions.
“Ten years.”
“Wow, that long?”
“It was a stopgap that lasted six years. Then Albi arrived, and I got attached to the little bugger.”
I laugh, and the sound is natural. “Not much hope for me then, is there?”
“You’re getting attached?” he asks.
“He’s adorable.”
“He is.” He must sense the endless questions I want to ask. The smile he gives me out the corner of his mouth tells me I’m right.