Single Dads Collection. Lynne MarshallЧитать онлайн книгу.
have been with him—’
‘Shh. It’s OK. It’s not your fault, it’s just life. Stuff happens, Em. Don’t beat yourself up. Come on, let’s see you smile.’ And he tipped up her head and smoothed the tears from her cheeks. Her mouth wobbled, but to give her credit she drew herself up and smiled.
And he couldn’t help himself.
He bent his head, brushed her lips with his and drew her back into his arms. ‘There. Magic kiss. All better now,’ he said gruffly, and then forced himself to let her go.
‘You’d better get dressed and get off. Want one of us to come with you?’
She shook her head. ‘I’ll be fine. Can you cope without me? I might be hours,’ she said unevenly.
‘Sure. You go ahead. And don’t worry. Beth will be fine. You just concentrate on Freddie, and let us know if they want to keep him in or anything.’
She nodded. ‘Will do.’
He went back out, closing the door carefully behind him, and found Dan struggling with Freddie’s nappy.
‘Want a hand?’
Dan grunted and stood back. ‘He’s all yours,’ he said with a grin. ‘How is she?’
‘OK. Bit shaken up.’
She wasn’t alone. Just hearing her scream and seeing Freddie tumbling end over end like that down the stairs was enough to make his blood run cold.
If anything had happened to the little lad…
Damn. He was getting in too deep. So deep.
Right in over his head.
He had to get the hell out of there and back to his own house before it was too late, he thought, and ignored the little voice that told him it already was—far, far too late…
FREDDIE was fine.
After three hours in A and E of being poked and prodded and X-rayed, they sent her home with him, armed with a head injuries card listing all the things she should keep an eye out for.
He was in fine form. He’d had a good time in A and E, he’d got a sticker on his hand and he’d had lots of cuddles and new toys to play with—life, as far as Freddie was concerned, was great.
Not so for his mother.
She was exhausted, she needed the breast pump fast, Harry’s garden was in chaos and all she could think about was going to sleep. She turned into the drive, cut the engine and sat there, eyes shut, wondering if she could find the energy to deal with the day.
It was all Harry’s fault, she thought unreasonably. Him and Dan, between them, had kept her awake half the night, and Kizzy had kept her awake the other half. She couldn’t do it any more.
‘Em? How is he?’
‘He’s fine. Harry, I can’t do it any more,’ she whispered. ‘Feeding her, being up in the night—I just can’t do it. I’m so tired. I’ve got so much work to do for Nick, and I know we spent the weekend in your garden, but I really ought to be getting on with Nick’s stuff today, but I can’t because your garden is utterly destroyed and the kids need me and Kizzy needs me and I just can’t do it all—’
‘Shh,’ he murmured, drawing her into his arms and rocking her gently. ‘You go to bed. Dan and I will look after the kids and sort out the garden. You have a sleep, and we’ll worry about the rest later—OK?’
‘But you don’t know what to do—’
‘Rubbish. We’re not stupid. I’m sure we can read your plan well enough to do the basic groundwork.’
‘And watch the children?’
‘And watch the children. Stop worrying. And I’m sorry we kept you awake.’
‘I need to see Buttercup,’ she told him, and he frowned.
‘I’ve been thinking—we ought to try her back on the formula,’ he said. ‘This can’t be helping.’
‘I still need Buttercup.’
He gave her a fleeting smile. ‘OK. Come on, let’s get you both in and sort you out. Want a cup of tea?’
‘Want tea!’ Freddie chimed in. ‘And biscuit.’
‘He needs breakfast, he must be starving.’
‘So do you. Come on.’
And he led her inside, sent her into the study with Buttercup and tapped on the door a few minutes later. ‘Room service,’ he murmured, and she opened the door a crack and stuck her head round it.
‘Tea and toast,’ he said, and handed them to her one at a time so she could take them from behind the door. Breastfeeding was one thing. Being connected to the pump was quite another, and she felt ridiculously shy and self-conscious.
She thanked him and shut the door, sat down again at her desk and while Buttercup did her job, Emily looked through Nick’s file and studied the brief for her next contract.
It was mercifully simple, but it needed to be stunning and she didn’t have it in her to be stunning at the moment. She rested her head on the desk, closed her eyes and sighed. ‘Just a few minutes,’ she murmured to herself. ‘Then I’ll do it…’
She’d been ages. He couldn’t believe how long she’d been in there, and he could hear the pump still running.
‘Em?’
He tapped on the door and opened it a crack, then said her name again, but there was no reply, so he stuck his head round the door and saw her slumped forward on her arms, fast asleep.
‘Em?’ he murmured, stroking her shoulder gently, and she woke with a start and sat up, her arms flying up to cover her breasts, cheeks burning.
‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘Um…’
‘I’ll go,’ he said, sensing her discomfort at his presence, and he went out and shut the door, resting his head back against it with a sigh.
It was crazy. She was worn out, and helping him with Kizzy wasn’t doing her any good at all.
Behind his back he heard the door opening, and he straightened and turned, to find her there with all the pump’s paraphernalia in her hands. ‘Oh,’ she said, and he held out his hands and she put the stuff into them, her cheeks still flushed.
That could have been with sleep, of course, but maybe it was just because she was shy. And he’d pushed her into something she wasn’t comfortable with.
She touched his hand. ‘Harry, don’t look like that, it was my idea to feed her.’
‘Well, it’s time it stopped. I’ll get her back on formula—mix them, perhaps. And the decorators will be done tomorrow, and the carpets come on Wednesday, and the furniture’s due then as well. And we’ll move out, and you won’t have us underfoot or keeping you awake all night any more, and you’ll be able to get on with your life. Now, go to bed and get some sleep.’
And he turned on his heel and walked into the kitchen, leaving her there with a lost and mournful expression on her face.
‘Fine,’ she said softly, and, turning round, she went upstairs to bed.
Kizzy was having none of it.
The best-laid plans and all that, he thought wearily, and went back to the fridge for the real McCoy.
He was exhausted. He’d spent the day in the garden with Dan, lifting the slabs on the patio and breaking up the concrete path that led to it, and in the