Chapter 12 #2
But . . . on the other hand, asking Haven to stay for Christmas could help resolve the conversation about custody, and make the path clearer for how we proceed.
Miles is busy separating his M&Ms again, and Hendricks is flicking through a stack of papers, but I know both of them are biding their time until I come to the decision they want me to make.
They used to do this all the time as teenagers, especially to our mother—approach from separate angles, convince her that any plan was her idea, and walk away with exactly what they wanted.
I’m just not sure what Haven staying here for Christmas has to do with them.
“You think I should ask her to stay longer?”
Hendricks nods. “I think that as Everly is family, she should have her first Christmas in Valentine Nook—”
“And,” says Miles, his fist stuffed into the jar, “it means you’ll stay here instead of pulling your usual disappearing act.”
Ah.
That’s why they want me to ask Haven.
I don’t know whether to be annoyed or touched. Because if Haven’s here, then I will be as well. And I know that my avoidance of Christmas upsets my family as much as Christmas upsets me.
But perhaps, like last year, the festivities won’t seem quite so bad if I don’t have to do them alone.
“Do you think she’ll stay if I ask?”
Miles nods. “I do.”
I turn to Hendricks. “What do you think? I don’t want to jeopardize anything.”
“I think spending as much time as you can with Everly is only a good thing.”
I swallow and nod, trying not to let my fantasies carry me away because Christmas is a little over a month away. And anything can happen in a month.
“I’ll think about it.”
“Excellent.” Miles claps his hands. “And while we’re on the subject of excellence, I heard the duke got covered in shit yesterday. Please tell me you have photos.”
I snort. “It was fucking funny. No photos, though.”
“Bollocks. I’ll have to find something else to put on my Christmas card this year,” he says with utmost seriousness. Every year, Miles finds the most hideous photo of one of us, prints it up with Season’s Greetings across the front, and sends it out to everyone he knows.
He’s such a dick.
Slapping his thighs, he stands. “Right, well, I have work to do now. You two staying here?”
I shake my head. I’ve had enough of being at my desk and hiding from Haven. “No, I’ll come too.”
“Well, I’m not staying here by myself,” Hendricks grumbles. “Actually, I need to check on the donkeys.”
As the three of us walk out into the yard, I spot Clementine walking out of the gates, and an idea pops into my brain.
“Hey Clem, wait up, will you?” I call out as the twins walk off in the direction of the stables.
She waits for me to catch up with her, and when I do, she slings her arm around my shoulders. “What’s up, big bro? Where’ve the terrible two gone?”
“Who knows.” I shrug. “Anyway. You know how I’m your favorite brother?”
Clementine pauses her stride and hums quietly. Her mouth twists while she thinks—too fucking long in my opinion—but I need a favor, so I’m not going to rise to it.
“Jury’s still out. But please go ahead with whatever you need.”
I roll my eyes. After Miles, she’s easily the most dramatic. “Can you take Haven to that place you and Mum go to? The one with the massages and stuff?”
Her brows shoot up. Now I have her attention, though they’re equal parts interested and bemused. “The spa?”
“Yes. There.”
“Sure, why?”
“Because . . .” I shrug. “Why do women go to spas? To relax, I guess. She’s just had a baby. Can you go to a spa if you’ve just had a baby?”
She stares at me, and it’s obvious she wants more of an explanation. I’m not sure I want to admit the rest of my reasoning, but I also know Clementine will stand and wait all day for it because she’s as stubborn as the rest of us.
“I had Everly for the first time last night . . . in my room . . . sleeping . . . and she woke up once,” I tell her. “It was stressful.”
Stressful is an understatement.
I don’t know if it was coupled with the “almost kiss,” but I barely got a wink of sleep. No wonder Haven’s exhausted if she spends most of the night watching our daughter sleeping. I’ve done it for one night, and she’s been doing it for two months.
I also haven’t forgotten our meeting in the coffee shop when she told me she’d cried every day. The loneliness in her eyes, or the pain written all over her face as she told me about Everly’s birth.
I don’t ever want to see that look again.
“And can you get her nails done too? If she wants.”
That’s something else I’ve noticed since she’s been in England.
Her nails are bare. One of the things I distinctly remember about her last year was them being painted like Christmas—red and green with festive pictures.
I specifically remember them when her hand was wrapped around my cock, but I’ve been trying not to think about that.
I look down at Clemmie’s nails. They’re painted black, and they’re a little chipped around the edges.
“You could do with getting yours done too.”
My sister steps back and drums said nails against her chin.
“So what you’re saying is, you’re paying for Haven and me to have a full deluxe spa day, including a mani / pedi and facials?
Hot stone massages . . . some lymphatic drainage perhaps.
Ooh, maybe a seaweed wrap . . . some laser.
Come to think of it, they might have a new mummy package.
I don’t know what the rules are for mums, but I’ll find out. ”
God, it’s like we’re speaking another language. “Isn’t that just what I said?”
“And what will you be doing all day?”
My chest puffs as I answer, “I’ll be spending the day with my daughter.”
“Wow, Al. Spoken like a real girl dad.”
“A what?”
“A girl dad. A dad with a daughter. You’re going to need to learn the names of spa treatments, though, at the bare minimum. We’ll work on the rest later.”
“Fine, but can you take her?” I repeat because she’s still not confirmed, then add “tomorrow,” so she understands the urgency.
“Tomorrow?”
“Do you have plans?”
It dawns on me that I’m actually not sure what Clementine does with her days. She graduated from university at the beginning of the summer and still hasn’t decided on her future.
She shakes her head. “No.”
“Good, so you’ll do it?” I plead once more. “I’ll owe you.”
“I’m happy to do it, anything for my favorite brother, right?”
I let out a sigh of relief, pull her into a hug, and plant a kiss on her cheek. “Exactly. Favorite brother.”
“Just don’t tell Miles.”
When I walk into the house thirty minutes later after having grabbed some lunch for us from The Valentine Cook, I find Haven and Everly on the floor of the den where Everly is practicing her tummy time and staring at her reflection in a mirror.
The smile I get from Haven is almost as good as the gurgle Everly lets out when she sees me.
But it’s only Everly I get to pick up and kiss.
In fact, I go out of my way to scoop her up at an angle that keeps me as far away from Haven as is possible in this situation. She’s lying on the floor in a pair of leggings that hugs her arse far too well, and I have to actively force myself not to stare.
I just wish my brain would stop reminding me what it felt like to hold in my hands, pulling her close enough for her legs to wrap around me, sweat dripping down our bodies.
Helpfully, Everly’s hand on my cheek halts my trip down memory lane.
“Are you the fairest of them all?” I ask, only for a spit bubble to be blown in my face.
Crouching down on the other side of the rug, I shift her into the position I know she loves and turn to Haven again. There’s something about the way she looks at me when I’m holding Everly that makes me feel like I’m ten feet tall, having summited Everest.
But it’s ruined by Hendricks’s voice in my ear about being weak.
Fucking Hendricks.
“How has your morning been?”
“It was good. We went for a little walk to the coffee shop and came back to read some books and have a nap.” She laughs. “Both of us. I really need to start packing things up, but it can wait until tomorrow I guess.”
I smile, even though the thought makes my brain hurt because I still haven’t decided whether asking her to stay for Christmas is a clever idea.
Because it’ll mean I’ll be home in Valentine Nook for the first time in over a decade, but more importantly, I don’t want to risk anything with Everly.
“Tomorrow, you have other plans. Clementine is taking you to the spa for a . . . um . . . massage, a wrap up . . . Things like that.”
Haven pauses, and her eyes widen, enough that it makes me worry I’ve fucked up somehow, but then an excited smile breaks across her face.
“Wow, really?”
I give myself an internal high five, feeling all kinds of smug, and peer at my daughter. “Really.”
That’s right, I’m not just a dad. I’m a girl dad.