Chistmas In Manhattan Collection. Alison RobertsЧитать онлайн книгу.
be fine. Stir a bit faster. And have faith.’
‘Hmm...okay...’ Charles peered into the pot, frowning. ‘How did your Skype session go?’
‘Houston wasn’t terribly co-operative. He didn’t want to wake up. I showed them the photo from the park, though, and they said to say “hi” and wish you a happy Thanksgiving.’
‘That’s nice.’ Charles added some more milk to his sauce. ‘Where are they going to be celebrating? Still in Italy?’
‘Yes. They’re fallen head over heels in love with the Amalfi coast. They’ve bought a house there.’
‘What? How’s that going to work?’
‘They’ve got this idea that they could spend six months in Europe and six months here every year and never have winters.’
‘But what about Houston?’
‘I guess he’ll have to get used to travelling.’ Grace pointed at the pot. ‘Keep stirring or lumps will sneak in. You can add the grated cheese now, too.’
Charles was shaking his head. ‘I don’t think Houston would like summers in Italy. It’d be too hot for a big, fluffy dog.’
‘Mmm...’ Grace looked over her shoulder. Not that she could see into the living area from here but she could imagine that Houston hadn’t moved from where the boys had commanded him to stay—a canine mountain that they were constructing a new train line around. From the happy tooting noises she could hear, it seemed like the line was up and running now.
‘I’d adopt him,’ Charles said. ‘Max and Cameron think he’s another brother.’
‘I would, too.’ Grace smiled. ‘I love that dog. I don’t think you ever feel truly lonely when you’re sharing your life with a dog.’
The glance from Charles was quick enough to be sharp. A flash of surprise followed by something very warm, like sympathy. Concern...
She was stepping onto dangerous territory here, inadvertently admitting that she was often lonely.
‘Right...let’s drain that pasta, mix in the bacon and you can pour the sauce over the top. All we need is the breadcrumbs on top with a bit more cheese and it can go in the oven for half an hour.’
The distraction seemed to have been successful and Grace relaxed again, helping herself to a glass of wine when Charles chased the boys into the bathroom to get clean. She had to abandon her drink before their dinner was ready to come out of the oven, though, in order to answer the summons to the bathroom where she found Charles kneeling beside a huge tub that contained two small boys, a flotilla of plastic toys and a ridiculous amount of bubbles.
‘Look, Gace. A snowman!’
‘Could be a snow woman,’ Charles suggested. ‘Or possibly a snow dog.’
He had taken off the ribbed, navy pullover he’d been wearing and his T-shirt had large, damp patches on the front. There were clumps of bubbles on his bare arms and another one on the top of his head and the grin on his face told her that, in this moment, Charles Davenport was possibly the happiest man on earth.
Tap, tap, tap...
Would she be brave enough to go through that door if she did find it?
What if she opened her heart to this little family and then found they didn’t actually want her?
‘Nobody’s ever going to want you again... Not now...’
That ugly voice from the past should have lost its power long ago but there were still moments. Like this one, when she was smiling down at two, perfect, beautiful children and a man that she knew was even more gorgeous without those designer jeans and shirt.
Even as her smile began to wobble, though, she was saved by the bell of the oven timer.
‘I’ll take that out,’ she excused herself. ‘Dinner will be ready by the time you guys have got your jimjams on.’
The twins were just as cute in their pyjamas as they had been in their monkey suits for Halloween but another glass of wine had made it easier for Grace. The pleasant fuzziness reminded her that it was possible to embrace the moment and enjoy this for simply what it was—spending time with a friend and being included in his family.
Because they were real friends now, with a shared history of good times in the past and an understanding of how hard it could be to move on from tougher aspects in life. Maybe that kiss had let them both know that anything other than friendship would be a mistake. It was weeks ago and there had been no hint of anything more than a growing trust.
Look at them...having a relaxed dinner in front of a fire, with an episode of Curious George on the television and a contented dog stretched out on the mat, and the might-have-beens weren’t trying to break her heart. Grace was loving every minute of it.
Okay, it was a bit harder when she got the sleepy cuddles and kisses from the boys before Charles carried them off to bed but even then she wasn’t in any hurry to escape. This time, she wasn’t going to go home until she had cleaned up the kitchen. She wasn’t even going to get off this couch until she had finished this particularly delicious glass of wine.
And then Charles came back and sat on the couch beside her and everything suddenly seemed even more delicious.
Tap, tap, tap...
For a heartbeat, Grace could actually hear the sound. Because the expression on Charles’s face made her wonder if he was tapping at a wall of his own?
Maybe it was her own heartbeat she could hear as it picked up its pace.
He hadn’t forgotten that comment about being lonely at all, had he?
‘Have you got any plans for Thanksgiving tomorrow, Grace? You’d be welcome to join us, although a full-on Davenport occasion might be a bit...’ He made a face that suggested he wasn’t particularly looking forward to it himself. ‘Sorry, I shouldn’t make assumptions. You’ve probably got your own family to think about.’
Her own family. A separate family. That wall had just got a lot more solid.
Grace didn’t protest when Charles refilled her glass.
‘I had thought of going to visit my dad but I would have had to find someone to care for Houston and I didn’t have enough of a gap in my roster. It’s a long way to go just for a night or two. He might come to New York for Christmas, though.’
‘And you lost your mum, didn’t you? I remember you telling me how much you missed her.’
Good grief...he actually remembered what she’d said that night when she’d been crying on his shoulder as a result of her stress about her final exams?
‘She died a couple of years before I went to med school. Ovarian cancer.’
‘Oh...that must have been tough.’
‘Yeah...it was. Dad’s never got over it.’ Grace fell silent. Had she just reminded Charles of his own loss. That he would never get over it?
The silence stretched long enough for Charles to finish his glass of wine and refill it.
‘There’s something else I should apologise for, too.’
‘What?’ Grace tried to lighten what felt like an oddly serious vibe. Was he going to apologise for that kiss? Explain why it had been such a mistake? ‘You’re going to send me into the kitchen to do the dishes?’
He wasn’t smiling.
‘I treated you badly,’ he said quietly. ‘Back in med school. After...that night...’
Oh, help... This was breaking the first rule in the new book. The one that made that night a taboo subject.
‘I don’t know how much you knew of what hit the fan the next day regarding the Davenport