Chapter Two #3
“Can I have this one, Mum?” he asked. She could hear eagerness in his voice and felt her heart constrict.
It wouldn’t take him long to want to live here all the time.
Or go to the school that would obviously be such a cut above the one in London, both in terms of facilities—all those playing fields and swimming pool and goodness knew what else—and of educational standard.
She wouldn’t have to worry about him falling behind.
And that wouldn’t be the only thing she’d not have to worry about.
No more bills to pay either, no more money worries…
Yes, putting herself into Xander’s hands would have its advantages.
Except that it came with Xander himself. Who condemned her as a thief…
“Mum! Look! There, at the back of the garden!” Dan exclaimed excitedly, interrupting her troubled thoughts.
She went across to him to see what he was seeing. At the far end of the garden, beyond the lawn which was easily big enough to kick a ball around in, was a wooden summer house. It would make a great den…
Just like this house would make a great home…
She turned away. “Shall we go out into the garden and take a look?” she suggested, her voice bright. But it was an effort to make it so. Unease was lapping at her. Xander was making it clear he was changing his son’s life, and hers would change with it.
How can I cope with any of it? Come to terms with it?
And it was not—she felt that sense of unease grip more tightly—the mere physical circumstances that Xander was changing that she was going to have to cope with.
It’s Xander—Xander himself! After everything that happened, I’ve spent seven years putting behind me!
And now he was back. Back in her life…
She could sense a hollow form inside her as she walked downstairs with Dan.
Xander was in the sitting room, opening the patio doors.
She felt her breath catch, eyes fastening on him.
Oh dear God, was it possible that she should still, still, after all he’d done to her, still react this way to him?
Still feel it like a blow to her solar plexus, taking in his tall lean strength, that sable hair, those planed features she had known so, so well…
Those dark, gold-glinting eyes resting on her…
Desiring her…
He slid the door back and turned towards them. And in his eyes, lancing at her, was not desire, but the same look she’d last seen in them, seven long years ago as he’d thrown her off his yacht.
A cold to chill her bones.
Xander flicked his eyes away, dropped them down to Dan. “Let’s take a look at the garden,” he said. As they went out, Dan running eagerly, Xander said over his shoulder to Laurel, “I’ve had a grocery delivery. You can pack it away.”
He didn’t bother to wait for an answer, just headed after Dan, who was purposefully targeting the summer house.
“Can I have this as my den?” Dan asked hopefully.
“Of course,” Xander said. He stepped up beside him on the little wooden veranda and went inside.
It was prettily set up, with garden furniture, a tiny kitchenette and colourful bunting decorating the wooden walls.
There was a chest in one corner, and opening it revealed a football, a croquet set and badminton rackets and shuttlecocks.
“Cool!” exclaimed Dan, seizing the football.
Moments later they were out on the level lawn, having a kick about. Emotion swept through Xander.
Playing football—with my son—
He felt his heart clench with it…
“Goal!” shouted Dan, as the ball shot past Xander. He gave a laugh, retrieved it, and kicked it back. His precious, precious son. Who would never, never be parted from him again…
His eyes went to the house. Through the kitchen windows he could see Laurel moving, unpacking the grocery delivery.
Emotion swept through him again, but it was not a kindly one…
Not kindly at all.
While Dan and Xander kicked a ball around, Laurel sorted the grocery delivery, stashing things away in the huge fridge and freezer and the ample cupboard space, making herself a cup of tea as she did so.
Then she went upstairs to unpack. She’d bought a selection of Dan’s favourite toys and some books, too, as well as clothes to wear.
Her thoughts were troubled, how could they not be?
She’d tacitly agreed to spend the Easter holidays here, but then what?
The sense of unease she’d felt earlier filled her again. Uncertainty, confusion—consternation.
Am I really prepared to do what Xander wants? Move here, make Dan’s life here?
She just didn’t know.
She drew a breath, closing the drawer she’d placed Dan’s T-shirts in. No, she didn’t know, and she couldn’t, not yet.
I just have to take it day at a time. It’s all I can do.
She went into the bedroom next to Dan’s that she’d chosen for her own.
It wasn’t the master, that was on the other side of the landing, but she wanted to be close to Dan.
For his sake. For hers. She unpacked her own things, trying to pretend this was just a hotel room, nothing more than that.
She couldn’t see the garden from her room.
It looked towards the village green, but she heard Dan calling from downstairs.
“Mum, I’m hungry! What’s for tea?”
She headed down. Fresh pasta, as well as sauces and parmesan, had been in the lavish delivery.
That was always a favourite for Dan. But as she went into the sitting room, where Xander was resting on one of the two sofas, tablet on his knee, Dan exclaimed, “Dad says we’re having pizzas! Come and choose yours!”
A blade slid into Laurel. Dan had called Xander “Dad.”
Xander’s eyes lifted, going to hers. As if he could read her reaction.
She swallowed. “That’s nice,” she managed to say.
“So, what kind of pizza do you want?” Xander said to her, his voice indifferent.
“Oh, margherita is fine,” she answered.
His dark eyes rested on her a moment. “Once, you liked fully loaded, as I recall,” he said. “That night we ate at a pizzeria—”
Laurel paled. She remembered the evening.
Remembered every evening she’d spent with Xander.
Every blissful evening. That particular night they’d docked at a popular tourist spot, and she’d insisted on treating him to dinner for a change.
She couldn’t run to the kind of gourmet restaurants he chose when they ate out, but she could run to pizzas.
So they had, eating them outdoors at the little pizzeria catering exclusively for tourists, their table covered with a paper cloth, the wine homegrown and served in earthenware carafes, the pizzas on wooden plates.
Hers had definitely been fully loaded—mushrooms, anchovies, olives, extra mozzarella, peppers and chorizo.
“You had red onion and goats’ cheese,” she heard herself say.
“So I did,” he acknowledged.
For a moment, just a fraction of a moment, their eyes held. For a moment, a fraction of a second, Laurel felt weakness wash through her…
A weakness she had felt every time Xander had looked at her like that…
“Mum, can I have ham and pineapple?” Dan’s piping voice brought her back.
“Of course!” she said brightly.
“And dough balls?” he added hopefully.
“If you share them with your dad,” she said.
She said it deliberately—“dad.” Forced herself to.
He’s Dan’s father. On one of those nights—those passion-filled, incredible nights that I can hardly believe now ever happened—Dan was conceived. And he’s here now, with the both of us, and I have to—have to!—accept that even if I don’t want to.
“Order complete.” Xander shut down his tablet, put it aside. “Delivery in twenty minutes. They’re coming over from the market town.” He got to his feet, went over to the huge TV in the corner. “Okay, Dan, let’s see if we can get this going.” He hunkered down, and Dan went over to him.
Laurel went into the kitchen, set the table there. Pizza didn’t warrant the dining room. Outside the dusk was gathering fast. She stared out into it. Heart full.
But with what she did not know. Could not tell.
Only that it was powerful and disturbing.
And that she could not deal with it. But must.
“Dan, bath-time in five, okay?” Laurel’s voice came from the door to the kitchen beside the patio door.
Xander ignored it, but Dan did not.
“But the film isn’t finished,” he protested.
Tea finished, pizzas polished off, he was sitting on the floor, cross-legged, and Xander had sat down beside him to keep him company, leaning back against the sofa, long legs extended while they watched a downloaded kid’s film on the TV.
Dan had requested it, and Xander had gone along with it, even though it seemed to be about a lot of fantastical cartoon creatures having improbable adventures that went on and on.
“You can see the rest of it tomorrow,” Laurel said from the doorway. “Besides, you know it inside out!”
“But Dad doesn’t,” said Dan.
“I’m sure he can wait till tomorrow too,” she said dryly.
Xander turned his head to her.
“This is one of Dan’s current favourites,” she told him. “He can watch it endlessly.”
Her expression was limpid. For a second, just a second, Xander almost…almost…smiled at the implication.
Then her attention went back to Dan. “Five minutes,” she reminded him. “I’m going up to run your bath.”
She disappeared.
“Five minutes,” Xander confirmed. Dan had already smothered a yawn. It had been a long day for him.
Five minutes coincided with a break in the story line, and Dan stood up, Xander limbering to his feet as well, turning off the TV. They headed upstairs to the sound of water running in the bathroom. Laurel emerged.
“Well done.” She smiled.
It was a smile for Dan, but Xander stilled. From the moment he’d hauled her into his car to confront her over his stolen son, her expression had only been stony-faced. Or tense and drawn. Or filled with a false brightness.
Now, something caught at him.
I’d forgotten how she smiled. How it lit her face. Took my breath away.
For a moment, just a moment, memory pierced him. Just as it had when he’d reminded her about eating pizza in Greece.
Why the hell did I do that? Dragging back the past. Remembering a time I had to consign to oblivion.
He was flooded with anger at himself. Then he realised she was speaking.
“Dan’s pretty tired tonight,” she was saying.
“So it’s best if I put him to bed. But tomorrow—” she seemed to be making a visible effort, an obviously stiffly unwilling concession “—you can lend a hand if you want.” She paused, then went on, her voice awkward.
“Where…where are you staying? You didn’t say. ”
For a moment, just a moment, Xander found himself wanting to say that there were three bedrooms to the cottage and he’d take the master…
But that was the last thing he wanted. Once Dan was in bed he had no use for Laurel’s company. No wish or desire for it. Why would he?
“I’m booked into a nearby hotel,” he said. “I’ll head off now.”
He lifted his hand to ruffle Dan’s hair lightly. “See you tomorrow. Today’s been good, hasn’t it?”
Dan nodded, another yawn escaping. “Yes,” he said.
Xander headed downstairs, giving Dan a last wave, not bothering to say anything more to Laurel. She was irrelevant to him, superfluous in her existence for any purpose but for the good of the son she’d kept from him for seven long years.
Anger bit at him again, familiar and acidic, eating into him as he let himself out of the house. Cold, unforgiving anger.
Laurel lay in bed. Though her window was open there was scarcely a sound in the night, only the occasional haunting hoot of an owl. Dan had gone out like a light after his bath and bedside read. She’d kissed him goodnight, faithful Mr. Teds, battered but much loved, snuggled beside him.
I like this holiday, Mum had been his last, sleepy words. With you and my dad.
They had wrung her heart.
Now, as she lay in her own bed, sleep would not come. Only thoughts she should not have. Pointless thoughts. But they came all the same.
What if that damn bracelet had never gone missing? Xander wouldn’t hate me then. Nor I him.
But that would be all though. Xander was a married man.
Missing bracelet or no missing bracelet, Dan could only ever be his secret son or, at best, his unintended love child, or whatever the coy term was.
Not that love had ever come into it. Seven years ago she and Xander had had a heady, passionate fling—that was all.
Olympia’s arrival at the end had simply confirmed that, with all her snide insinuations that she was lined up to be Xander’s fiancée any time soon.
I never expected anything more than what we had, Xander and I, even before Olympia turned up and her bracelet went missing. I knew it and faced it.
She shifted restlessly, pulled the duvet over her head, and turned onto her side.
So, what did it matter if Xander still thought of her as a thief and she was still bitter at his accusation? All that was important was making herself cope with the bombshell that Xander’s reappearance into her life had caused.
Take it day at a time. It’s all you can do.
The mantra was still running through her head as she finally sank into a heavy, uneasy sleep.