Chapter 10
Molly
I’m admiring a tray of flawless brioches, their glazed tops dotted with tiny sugar lumps, when Sadie sashays over to me.
‘You look obnoxiously good this morning for someone who has a baby,’ I say. Her pale blonde bob is teased to perfection, her makeup immaculate, and her black polo neck and tartan kilt adorable beyond belief.
‘Thanks.’ She pats her hair. ‘Ned looks after Isabelle while I get ready. But I didn’t come over for compliments.’
‘That makes a change,’ I joke. I wouldn’t say Sadie’s vain, but she definitely understands the power of her looks. As well she should.
‘Hilarious. Now, please tell me why there is an incredibly attractive and weirdly familiar-looking guy with a bloody nose asking for you at reception?’
I gasp. ‘Oh my God. It must be Max. Is he okay?’ I spin to go before remembering to tug off my apron. ‘How do I look?’ The second the words are out of my mouth, I mentally kick myself.
Sadie’s eyes widen. ‘You look great, as always, but I’m interested that you care. Who is Max?’
I crane my head towards the entrance, trying to get a glimpse of him at the Oast House reception.
‘He’s Angus’ brother. My ex. He—’
‘What?’
‘You knew I went out with Angus’ brother. Years ago.’ I gesture impatiently. ‘That’s how I know Angus.’
‘I did not. I was on mat leave when you turned up, remember?’ She blows out a breath.
‘God, I missed out on so much gossip when I was out. How long did you date Mr I’m-Hot-and-May-Have-Punched-Someone-Before-Breakfast for?
And he’s Angus’ brother. Fascinating. That’s who he reminded me of—but he’s bigger than Angus, no? I mean, he looks totally built.’
I stride out of the kitchen, and she follows. Annoyingly, her legs are longer than mine, even without her gorgeous suede stiletto boots, so she keeps up just fine.
I think. ‘Three years. No, four. We lived together for three.’
‘That’s a long time. And you broke up why?’
‘He didn’t want kids. I did.’ I spot Max. He’s holding something white to his nose. ‘Now you’re up to speed. Please make yourself scarce.’
‘Why is he back? Tell me, then I’ll leave.’
‘He came back to see Angus. But he didn’t realise they were refurbing Belvedere, so he’s staying with me and helping me with my kids in the mornings for a few weeks.’ Max has clocked me. I give him a little wave. ‘And yes, I’m aware of the irony. My life is like a bad comedy. Now shoo.’
‘He’s very sexy,’ she says in my ear. ‘Maybe you should give him another chance.’
‘He’s a commitment-phobe,’ I say, though that’s not remotely fair. His commitment to me never wavered. Ever. He just didn’t want our family to go beyond the two of us. ‘Maybe you should go and annoy your husband.’
Max points to me and Carmel at reception waves him through.
‘Good idea. I’ll go and distract him from his spreadsheets.’ She bats her eyelids at me, and I get a sense that Ned’s morning is about to get better. ‘But this isn’t over. I need a full debrief. Soon. With wine.’
I wave her off and hurry over to Max. On closer inspection, the white thing is a bloody tissue.
Oh my God.
‘Are you okay?’ I ask. He doesn’t look okay. Far from it. His nose is swelling up across the bridge. I put a hand on his arm. ‘Are the kids all right?’
‘They’re fine,’ he says wearily. ‘They’re at school. This looks worse than it is—putting Daisy’s tights on didn’t go so well.’
I clamp a hand over my mouth. ‘Fuck,’ I say through my fingers. ‘I’m so sorry. Come on—sit down.’
I steer him to the first table I see and practically push him into the chair. ‘Can I see?’
He removes the tissue from his nose and I lean in to get a closer look. Phew. It’s not as bad as I thought—bruised and a bit bloody, but nothing more. Definitely not what he needed first thing this morning, though. I wince as I imagine how things must have gone with the kids.
‘It doesn’t feel broken, does it?’
He gives a little laugh and rubs his hand over his eyes. He looks utterly exhausted. ‘Nah. It’ll be fine. Honestly.’
‘Good.’ I blow out a breath. ‘I can’t believe she kicked you in the nose. Little beast.’
‘She didn’t do it on purpose. She just lashed out—I couldn’t get the damn things on properly. They were all twisted, and she wasn’t having it. So I ended up handing them to the teacher to put on her.’ He’s still rubbing his eyes, massaging his sockets with his fingertips.
‘Are you okay, otherwise?’
‘Yeah. I don’t know. I feel a bit traumatised.’ He looks up. ‘I realise that’s ridiculous. But it’s stressful, trying to get them processed and out of the house with that time pressure. I didn’t leave enough margin for error, and everything that could go wrong did go wrong.’
I grimace. ‘It really is stressful. And it’s horrible being outnumbered, and basically being totally at their mercy. Especially Daze. If she decides she doesn’t want to play ball, then you’re fucked.’
‘Exactly. And she did not want to play ball this morning. The poor kid was exhausted. And Toby was getting more and more anxious—I could feel it rolling off him in waves, which made me more stressed, and—ugh.’ He buries his face in his hands.
‘Is it normal to feel like you need a drink after the school run?’
God. I feel awful. Just awful. It’s like I threw him to a pack of lions with zero preparation.
‘I’ve been there a million times.’ I put a hand on his arm again.
‘And not only have I craved booze many, many times, but there was this one time that was so bad I actually went home and had a glass of wine. Isn’t that awful?
Daisy had such a bad tantrum, and she wouldn’t put any clothes on. Not a single thing.
‘So I handed her over to her teacher in just her vest and pants, with her dressing gown kind of wrapped around her shoulders as best as I could get it, and I had tears streaming down my face. I went home and had a glass of wine. I’m amazed no one’s ever called social services.’
‘Jesus. That’s horrific.’
‘Yep. And the most annoying thing was that the minute she saw her teacher, she was absolutely fine. All smiles. Meanwhile, I was traumatised for the rest of the day.’
‘Un-fucking-believable.’
‘This is the part where you say I told you so.’
He stares at me. ‘What do you mean?’
‘You told me not to have kids.’
‘Jesus, Mol. I wasn’t thinking that at all.’
‘But you were thinking thank fuck this is temporary.’
He grins tiredly, his hazel eyes crinkling in that trademark Rutherford style, and I let my gaze sweep over his face. He really is gorgeous, damn him.
‘You got me there.’
I smile stupidly at him before coming to my senses and looking around for a server. I call Remi over.
‘An Irish coffee for this fine gentleman, and a nice big bacon bap. Oh, and an icepack please, my dear. He’s been in the wars today.’
‘So I see,’ Remi croons, giving Max an appraising once-over. ‘Coming right up.’
‘I bet he has that Irish coffee ready in seconds,’ I remark. ‘You’ve got that whole wounded hero thing going on.’
‘That’s exactly how I feel,’ he grumbles. ‘Just don’t tell anyone the enemy was a four-year-old girl. And I lost.’
I press my lips together to stop myself from laughing.
I am one hundred percent Team Max in this situation.
‘Daisy can be a piece of work. It’s worse when she’s tired, and it’s so hard getting them out of bed at this time of year.
’ I pause. ‘And I hate to admit it, but her behavioural issues have been worse since her dad walked out. I’m sure it’s textbook attention-seeking, but that doesn’t make it any easier. ’
‘Shit, Mol.’ He reaches over and squeezes my hand, and I’m ashamed at how much I like the warmth. The sense that we’re in this together, even if that together takes a very different form from our previous relationship. ‘That’s so rough for all of you.’
He gives my hand one last squeeze before releasing it, and I feel strangely bereft.
‘Do you want to tell me exactly how the morning went, or is it too painful to relive?’
He laughs. ‘Maybe it’s good for me to share. It might give me nightmares, otherwise.’
He launches into a tale of farcical proportions, beginning with his LEGO moment in Toby’s room, which makes me physically flinch.
His morning really does sound like a slapstick comedy.
As he talks, Remi produces both his boozy coffee and an enormous bacon bap with a flourish, sliding a cheeky cappuccino over to me, and I watch something akin to pleasure wash over Max’s gorgeous features as he takes his first sip of his medicine.
By the time he gets to the part where he’s resisted flipping the bird at that Karen on parking duty and bundled Daisy into Miss Rawlin’s arms, I’m feeling guilty as hell for inflicting the school run of doom on him like that.
‘Is this the part where you tell me to go fuck myself and run for the hills?’ I ask, bracing myself for his answer.
He looks up at me through his eyelashes, both hands around the bap. His face is lowered towards the food in anticipation of what I know from experience will hit the spot perfectly.
‘I wouldn’t do that to you, Mol.’
‘Seriously. I know it’s a nightmare. It’s such a big ask, and all you’re doing is getting a stupid bed out of it.’
He’s chewing, so I wait for his answer, but he grins at me through his mouthful. I watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows, and there’s something so male about it that my inner thighs clench together.
‘Bloody hell, that’s good. Throw a few more shepherd’s pies my way, and I can keep the kiddie stuff going.’
‘Seriously?’
‘Seriously. Come to think of it, the shepherd’s pie’s quite appropriate, though this morning was more like herding fucking cats than sheep.’
This is the problem. This has always been the problem. He’s a thoroughly decent guy. A great guy, actually, whose desires for his life just didn’t match up with mine, no matter how hard we tried.
In the doomed Venn diagram of our relationship, the only thing our dream futures had in common was each other.
And it wasn’t enough.