Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 87538 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87538 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
I stop staring at my bedroom door, knowing Dax is there on the other side of it, and focus on the screen of my phone. “Different. You know, I’ve never worked with a single dad before.” As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I regret them.
“Single dad? You didn’t tell me you were working for a single dad!” I can hear the excitement in her voice. “What’s he like?” she asks. “Is he hot? Rich? Arabian? I bet you end up married into royalty.”
“No, no, and no,” I say. “None of that is going to happen.” A series of images flash through my brain: Dax bare-chested at the dining table, playing backgammon, a look in his eye that says he’s holding something back. The sparks of electricity passing between us every time we touch. The blush that takes over my cheeks whenever he’s in the room, since just looking at him sometimes makes me feel embarrassed. The way he looks at me like he knows me better than anyone else in the world.
We never did play another game of backgammon. I had an excuse all figured out if he ever asked, but he never did. Maybe he realized, just like I did, that the line between the professional and the personal had encircled us that evening. Even though we didn’t cross it, we’d had our faces pressed against it.
I didn’t want that to happen again. I guess, neither did he.
“But it’s nice looking after a newborn again,” I say.
“Do you worry you’ll become too attached when there isn’t a mum there all the time?”
“I always become attached. It’s an occupational hazard.” Not all our nannies had gotten attached to us. Some did more than others. Gabby was with us the longest and all of us still hear from her from time to time. Then there was Tina and Flavia. Others I’ve all but forgotten, their names lost to memory.
“What’s the kid’s name again. Merlin?”
I roll my eyes but appreciate that she asks. She relies on me more than I rely on her, but she makes an effort to understand and be interested in my life. Dylan does the same, to a lesser extent. “Guinevere. What father is going to name his daughter Merlin?”
“Merlin’s a pretty name. But I like the idea of my children having Welsh names, just like the three of us. It’s a…connection. It’s nice.” Even though none of us were born in Wales, our father’s insistence that we all had Welsh names makes me feel like he…wanted to live on through us somehow. Eddie’s idea of us passing that down to the next generation is lovely.
“I like that idea. You can have Glynnis.”
“Seren is my first pick,” she says.
“You’re not thinking about this seriously, though, are you? You’re not…”
She bursts out laughing. “You don’t need to worry, I’m not preggers. And have no plans to be. Gotta figure out how I’m going to rule the world first.”
“Sounds like a good first step.”
“How’s the flat?” she asks.
“It’s fine,” I reply. It’s small, I think. Dax’s mum isn’t wrong—moving house would be no bad thing. For a single man, this place is more than big enough. But if he can afford it, a little more space would help me breathe again. “My room is nice. Looks out onto the garden.”
“And he’s not handsome at all?” she asks, her tone a little disappointed.
I laugh. “Stop with the romance novels. Or maybe just give up fifteen minutes a day of them and dedicate the time to de-chunking your economics.” I make a mental note to ensure Eddie and Dax never meet. I’ll never hear the end of it if she sees him. She’d have me married off before they’d shaken hands.
I don’t mention the fact I’m going to Norfolk, where I’ll be surrounded by what seems like a loving family. I don’t tell her how it will make me ache inside, how I don’t want to go but agreed because Dax needs me. Guinevere needs me. So I’ll be there, my face pressed up against the glass Saturday to Wednesday, before coming back to this too-small flat to look after a beautiful baby girl without a mother.
I don’t mention the way I wonder what my life would have been like if any one of a million things had been different. There’s no point in dreaming about a life that can never be mine.
FIFTEEN
Eira
I step out the building, pushing the pram with a sleeping Guinevere inside. Dax is already coming toward me.
“Is that everything?” he asks.
“I don’t think there’s anything left in your flat to bring, even if we had room in the car.”
He nods earnestly. “Yes, you’re probably right. And I can go out and get anything we forgot once we get there.”
I’m a conservative packer when it comes to taking a newborn away, but there’s nothing of Guinevere’s left in the flat. We have literally brought everything with us. I’m not sure how it’s all fitted into the car. Then I look up and see the car, which is more like a bus.